The Gem and Your Dreams
Gloria Kembabazi Muhatane
You have probably noted your dreams down in a well decorated pad, in careful handwriting, one that you use only when it is something very important. You use a pen that was given to you as a gift or one that’s unique from all the other pens. You feel that if you use rare materials to write your dreams down, the faster they will be realized. You tear the paper out of the notebook, fold it and keep it under your pillow, where no one but you and God - who will help you achieve those dreams - can see.
Sometimes, you get the paper out, and reading through it, you wonder, ‘How will I ever achieve these dreams?’ You are a man, and one of your dreams is to find the right woman who you will spend the rest of your life with. At some point in your life, you feel Karen is the right woman for you. But you know Karen will want to be with a successful man. A successful man is one who can make more money than his wife can spend.
Y ou wonder how you are going to keep Karen. Y ou remember you lie d to her , told her that you had so much money, that your father was a minister, your mum a doctor and that your siblings lived in the United States - but you live with your auntie, have no siblings and you never knew your parents. The other items on the list are, building a mansion, buying a car - a 2000 model Nolan to be specific - running a few businesses and not having to work for anyone again in your life. All in all, your dreams need money to be obtained. How on earth will you find that money before Karen runs away with another man who is able to indulge her every whim?
You think of talking about your future plans with Karen. Maybe if she knows your ambitions, she might after all stay and support you. You call Karen on your katorchi phone and set a date with her, now, you’re all geared up to talk to her about both your futures.
Your aunt’s place is in Buwate, Najjera, though she is usually up-country on official duty. It’s a two roomed self-contained house with a kitchen and living room, garlanded with different species of flowers placed inside cracked plastic buckets, running round the house near its green sadolin colored wall. Plants with tendrils emanate from the broken concrete on the verandah and cling onto the wall accompanied by ivy. On the inside, the floor is maroon in color with a few cracks peeping through. The living room is completely free of dust. There’s a large wooden chair that seats three and two others that seat one. Their cushions are maroon and white, complementing the floor. A wooden yellowish table set stands in the middle of the room covered with hand knitted cloths, an empty flower vase sits on the main table. Pictures are stuck on the walls with tape which has been worn out by air over time.
You leave home dressed in the black trendy skinnies a buddy gave you and the red collared ill- fitting t-shirt you are fond of, which bears the words: I AM A BIG MAN. It’s a good luck t-shirt even though it sustained an injury through a nail hanging on the wall in your room. You cover it up with a jacket, pick something under your pillow and place it in the jacket pocket. You fit your feet into the sandals you always leave by the doorstep, pluck the key from the inside and make sure you lock the house on your way out.
Twenty minutes pass while you’re in a taxi and you find yourself at a cheap bar in Kiwatule. The bar - which has room for only ten people at any given time - holds an old black and white Panasonic TV that serves as the only entertainment. Judging from the bar’s shelves, the drinks are as good as done. The light source is a blue bulb; its soft glow is responsible for the slim cosiness of the bar. To
You have probably noted your dreams down in a well decorated pad, in careful handwriting, one that you use only when it is something very important. You use a pen that was given to you as a gift or one that’s unique from all the other pens. You feel that if you use rare materials to write your dreams down, the faster they will be realized. You tear the paper out of the notebook, fold it and keep it under your pillow, where no one but you and God - who will help you achieve those dreams - can see.
Sometimes, you get the paper out, and reading through it, you wonder, ‘How will I ever achieve these dreams?’ You are a man, and one of your dreams is to find the right woman who you will spend the rest of your life with. At some point in your life, you feel Karen is the right woman for you. But you know Karen will want to be with a successful man. A successful man is one who can make more money than his wife can spend.
Y ou wonder how you are going to keep Karen. Y ou remember you lie d to her , told her that you had so much money, that your father was a minister, your mum a doctor and that your siblings lived in the United States - but you live with your auntie, have no siblings and you never knew your parents. The other items on the list are, building a mansion, buying a car - a 2000 model Nolan to be specific - running a few businesses and not having to work for anyone again in your life. All in all, your dreams need money to be obtained. How on earth will you find that money before Karen runs away with another man who is able to indulge her every whim?
You think of talking about your future plans with Karen. Maybe if she knows your ambitions, she might after all stay and support you. You call Karen on your katorchi phone and set a date with her, now, you’re all geared up to talk to her about both your futures.
Your aunt’s place is in Buwate, Najjera, though she is usually up-country on official duty. It’s a two roomed self-contained house with a kitchen and living room, garlanded with different species of flowers placed inside cracked plastic buckets, running round the house near its green sadolin colored wall. Plants with tendrils emanate from the broken concrete on the verandah and cling onto the wall accompanied by ivy. On the inside, the floor is maroon in color with a few cracks peeping through. The living room is completely free of dust. There’s a large wooden chair that seats three and two others that seat one. Their cushions are maroon and white, complementing the floor. A wooden yellowish table set stands in the middle of the room covered with hand knitted cloths, an empty flower vase sits on the main table. Pictures are stuck on the walls with tape which has been worn out by air over time.
You leave home dressed in the black trendy skinnies a buddy gave you and the red collared ill- fitting t-shirt you are fond of, which bears the words: I AM A BIG MAN. It’s a good luck t-shirt even though it sustained an injury through a nail hanging on the wall in your room. You cover it up with a jacket, pick something under your pillow and place it in the jacket pocket. You fit your feet into the sandals you always leave by the doorstep, pluck the key from the inside and make sure you lock the house on your way out.
Twenty minutes pass while you’re in a taxi and you find yourself at a cheap bar in Kiwatule. The bar - which has room for only ten people at any given time - holds an old black and white Panasonic TV that serves as the only entertainment. Judging from the bar’s shelves, the drinks are as good as done. The light source is a blue bulb; its soft glow is responsible for the slim cosiness of the bar. To
12
your surprise, Karen is already there, sipping on a Sprite. She perceives an image of you, gets up to
massage your body with a passionate cuddle that you’ve missed. You both get ensconced in the
chairs. You waste no time in trying to achieve the main goal of the meeting.
‘Hey baby, I have been meaning to talk to you about something’. You look down at the table and wonder how you are going to start.
‘Hey, you’re frightening me, is it something that could destroy us?’ She is filled with consternation, her face is all crumpled. How are you going to make a clean breast of whatever you perjured before and at the same time tell her about your dreams?
‘No, no, it’s nothing to worry about. Everything is Ok.’ You look at the relieved face of the beautiful woman seated across the table and suddenly you wondered how you’ll be able to confess what a broke-ass you are?! But you have to say something, to cover up what you started.
‘Honey, I have been meaning to tell you that you are the first of my dreams to be achieved.
You are glad something came out right, and you hope it will be taken right.
‘Are you sure about that Sam?’ She smiles that smile you always see whenever you close your eyes
and think of her. ‘Prove it!’ she says. You’re glad she actually asked you to prove it. Even more glad that you carried along with you the paper on which your dreams are written.
‘Here, read here’. You show her the paper, folding it such a way that all your other dreams are covered and she’ll only see the first one you wrote which is: To find the woman of my dreams. You even show her the date you wrote it which was almost a year ago.
‘I now believe you, sugar’, she smiles again and lifts her hands from her jeans wrapped thighs to rub her arms, making a cross on her chest; the way she does when she wants you to hold her. You move with your seat to be closer to her. You lift her off her chair and cuddle her. And you wish the evening would never end. But it’s late, and she has to go home. Most lovers prefer to walk rather than use a boda-boda, especially when the distance is a short. You walk with your hand entwined in hers. You tell each other sweet nothings and before you know it, you have reached her doorstep. You peck her on the neck and say goodnight.
You head back home but this time you use a boda-boda. The distance being longer. When you arrive home the first thing you do is bang heavily on the door with your knuckles, as if it bears the fault for the lies you told Karen. In some way, you convince yourself that tomorrow you will find a way to start bringing those other dreams to fruition. The night is fairly peaceful.
The next day, it’s a Friday. In the afternoon you set out to meet your buddy, Nicko. Nicko is a hustler; you know that he will find work for you. You board a taxi to Kisasi and you arrive at Nicko’s in under ten minutes. He stays with his dad on the first floor of the famous five storey Yellow Apartments, separated from the murram road by a large fence. The apartments have maintained their vivid color, despite the ever settling dust shuffled about by undecided winds.
‘Hey, Nicko’. You shout out to him as soon as you walk through the gate. Nicko looks through the living room window to see who is calling him.
‘Hey Sam, my man, t’sup ma boy’. He greets you as soon as he reaches for the door. You shake hands and knock shoulders. You follow him to the living room and before you can spell out your problems or sit in one of his battered chairs he says excitedly, ‘Something has come up, you can’t miss it.’
‘What’s that man? Fill your boy in.’
You are hoping it’s a kyeyo of sorts as you squint at the environment. The apartment house is a mess; with dirty utensils under the table, you can hardly tell the original color of the paint on the walls, whether it’s cream or brown as both shades are visible. There’s a smell of something fermenting that you can’t quite recognise, it’s pinching your nose so you’re being forced to stop breathing at certain intervals. Dust is a steadfast companion to the cupboard, also to the window
‘Hey baby, I have been meaning to talk to you about something’. You look down at the table and wonder how you are going to start.
‘Hey, you’re frightening me, is it something that could destroy us?’ She is filled with consternation, her face is all crumpled. How are you going to make a clean breast of whatever you perjured before and at the same time tell her about your dreams?
‘No, no, it’s nothing to worry about. Everything is Ok.’ You look at the relieved face of the beautiful woman seated across the table and suddenly you wondered how you’ll be able to confess what a broke-ass you are?! But you have to say something, to cover up what you started.
‘Honey, I have been meaning to tell you that you are the first of my dreams to be achieved.
You are glad something came out right, and you hope it will be taken right.
‘Are you sure about that Sam?’ She smiles that smile you always see whenever you close your eyes
and think of her. ‘Prove it!’ she says. You’re glad she actually asked you to prove it. Even more glad that you carried along with you the paper on which your dreams are written.
‘Here, read here’. You show her the paper, folding it such a way that all your other dreams are covered and she’ll only see the first one you wrote which is: To find the woman of my dreams. You even show her the date you wrote it which was almost a year ago.
‘I now believe you, sugar’, she smiles again and lifts her hands from her jeans wrapped thighs to rub her arms, making a cross on her chest; the way she does when she wants you to hold her. You move with your seat to be closer to her. You lift her off her chair and cuddle her. And you wish the evening would never end. But it’s late, and she has to go home. Most lovers prefer to walk rather than use a boda-boda, especially when the distance is a short. You walk with your hand entwined in hers. You tell each other sweet nothings and before you know it, you have reached her doorstep. You peck her on the neck and say goodnight.
You head back home but this time you use a boda-boda. The distance being longer. When you arrive home the first thing you do is bang heavily on the door with your knuckles, as if it bears the fault for the lies you told Karen. In some way, you convince yourself that tomorrow you will find a way to start bringing those other dreams to fruition. The night is fairly peaceful.
The next day, it’s a Friday. In the afternoon you set out to meet your buddy, Nicko. Nicko is a hustler; you know that he will find work for you. You board a taxi to Kisasi and you arrive at Nicko’s in under ten minutes. He stays with his dad on the first floor of the famous five storey Yellow Apartments, separated from the murram road by a large fence. The apartments have maintained their vivid color, despite the ever settling dust shuffled about by undecided winds.
‘Hey, Nicko’. You shout out to him as soon as you walk through the gate. Nicko looks through the living room window to see who is calling him.
‘Hey Sam, my man, t’sup ma boy’. He greets you as soon as he reaches for the door. You shake hands and knock shoulders. You follow him to the living room and before you can spell out your problems or sit in one of his battered chairs he says excitedly, ‘Something has come up, you can’t miss it.’
‘What’s that man? Fill your boy in.’
You are hoping it’s a kyeyo of sorts as you squint at the environment. The apartment house is a mess; with dirty utensils under the table, you can hardly tell the original color of the paint on the walls, whether it’s cream or brown as both shades are visible. There’s a smell of something fermenting that you can’t quite recognise, it’s pinching your nose so you’re being forced to stop breathing at certain intervals. Dust is a steadfast companion to the cupboard, also to the window
13
seals, the television set and all other appliances in the room. The room is stuffy, but you decide you
can forgive Nicko’s grubby nature.
‘Guess who is throwing the par-ley tonight?’ Nicko teases as he picks up a toothpick from the glass table and places it in his mouth. He starts chewing it easily, as if it were palatable.
‘Dude, just tell me man. I’m not in guessing mood’. You’re only in the mood for blue collar jobs. You sit and lean back in the sofa, losing your interest in his talk.
‘I will save you the trouble,’ Nicko says as he places one foot on the table, not minding his dirty sandals. He leans forward, stares keenly at you, before he says anything, so that he will not miss the expression on your face when he makes his revelation, ‘The Nigerian billionaire is throwing a party at his mansion in Bugolobi and I managed to secure two invites’.
‘Wha...what!?’ You can’t believe your luck. You get out of the chair, your hands in the air, your eyes wide and your mouth open , but no sound comes out. Y ou’ re excited. Excited because people always talk about the rich man’s mansion and in your imagination, it’s paradise. And although you hadn’t included it on your list, it is one of your dreams to be there. You are going to dine with all the rich people in the city; feel important for the first time in your life and also squint at the billionaire’ s daughter . Y ou ha ve heard she is extraordinarily attractive though in your heart, she can never be more beautiful than Karen.
You suddenly remember you don’t have a proper outfit for the occasion.
‘Haa, man, Nicko, what am I going to wear?’ You know Nicko always has a way out.
‘Ah, don’t worry, man. You will dress up here. My old man usually keeps his suits ready to
wear’.
Nicko’s father is out of town for the weekend. He will definitely find a nice suit for you and him. Evening falls and you have got to get ready. The function starts at eight that evening, but you
would like to be there for seven.
‘We better start getting ready,’ Nicko says, ‘but please take a shower before you wear my father’s
suit’.
You have to do what Nicko says, or else he might not give you his dad’s suit. You realize though
that you’re without socks and shoes. You take the shower and you both get dressed. You are ready to go. But before you leave, Nicko notices how dirty the house is.
‘Eh, man, will you help me clean this house tomorrow, man, yo ma boy you know?’ He says, tilting his head to one side as each word pours out of his mouth.
‘Yeah, yeah, it’s cool, it’s cool.’ You know you are now a pawn on his chess board. You either say yes or start undressing. You leave the apartment, mount on one boda-boda and go to what for you is the party of your life.
You get to the gate and the askari gives you a mean look. You know the reason for his stare is because you didn’t arrive in a chauffeured, shiny black car like most of the guests. But all the same, the invite will guarantee you VIP treatment. Y ou are sho w ed ar ound paradise by a finely made -up girl, donning a knee length dark blue dress and silver stilettos. You can’t believe how outsized the estate is. About three large gardens make up the front of the house. The girl leaves you at the first entrance where you are transported by a cart to a second one. A suited usher directs you to a high, marvel-paved art gallery to join the rest. Its walls are garlanded with high-ceilinged pillars in azure, scarlet and white. Cool, white statues of West African subjects stand in the rooms’ four corners.
You immediately start admiring all the hangings on the walls. The portrait of his daughter created from multicoloured glass, one of him as a child made of wood. There is a Nigerian emblem made of shinning metal. You stare at the accolades he has collected throughout his life, which are kept behind glass cupboards. You notice the water fountain in the middle of the room which seems to be keeping the room cool.
‘Guess who is throwing the par-ley tonight?’ Nicko teases as he picks up a toothpick from the glass table and places it in his mouth. He starts chewing it easily, as if it were palatable.
‘Dude, just tell me man. I’m not in guessing mood’. You’re only in the mood for blue collar jobs. You sit and lean back in the sofa, losing your interest in his talk.
‘I will save you the trouble,’ Nicko says as he places one foot on the table, not minding his dirty sandals. He leans forward, stares keenly at you, before he says anything, so that he will not miss the expression on your face when he makes his revelation, ‘The Nigerian billionaire is throwing a party at his mansion in Bugolobi and I managed to secure two invites’.
‘Wha...what!?’ You can’t believe your luck. You get out of the chair, your hands in the air, your eyes wide and your mouth open , but no sound comes out. Y ou’ re excited. Excited because people always talk about the rich man’s mansion and in your imagination, it’s paradise. And although you hadn’t included it on your list, it is one of your dreams to be there. You are going to dine with all the rich people in the city; feel important for the first time in your life and also squint at the billionaire’ s daughter . Y ou ha ve heard she is extraordinarily attractive though in your heart, she can never be more beautiful than Karen.
You suddenly remember you don’t have a proper outfit for the occasion.
‘Haa, man, Nicko, what am I going to wear?’ You know Nicko always has a way out.
‘Ah, don’t worry, man. You will dress up here. My old man usually keeps his suits ready to
wear’.
Nicko’s father is out of town for the weekend. He will definitely find a nice suit for you and him. Evening falls and you have got to get ready. The function starts at eight that evening, but you
would like to be there for seven.
‘We better start getting ready,’ Nicko says, ‘but please take a shower before you wear my father’s
suit’.
You have to do what Nicko says, or else he might not give you his dad’s suit. You realize though
that you’re without socks and shoes. You take the shower and you both get dressed. You are ready to go. But before you leave, Nicko notices how dirty the house is.
‘Eh, man, will you help me clean this house tomorrow, man, yo ma boy you know?’ He says, tilting his head to one side as each word pours out of his mouth.
‘Yeah, yeah, it’s cool, it’s cool.’ You know you are now a pawn on his chess board. You either say yes or start undressing. You leave the apartment, mount on one boda-boda and go to what for you is the party of your life.
You get to the gate and the askari gives you a mean look. You know the reason for his stare is because you didn’t arrive in a chauffeured, shiny black car like most of the guests. But all the same, the invite will guarantee you VIP treatment. Y ou are sho w ed ar ound paradise by a finely made -up girl, donning a knee length dark blue dress and silver stilettos. You can’t believe how outsized the estate is. About three large gardens make up the front of the house. The girl leaves you at the first entrance where you are transported by a cart to a second one. A suited usher directs you to a high, marvel-paved art gallery to join the rest. Its walls are garlanded with high-ceilinged pillars in azure, scarlet and white. Cool, white statues of West African subjects stand in the rooms’ four corners.
You immediately start admiring all the hangings on the walls. The portrait of his daughter created from multicoloured glass, one of him as a child made of wood. There is a Nigerian emblem made of shinning metal. You stare at the accolades he has collected throughout his life, which are kept behind glass cupboards. You notice the water fountain in the middle of the room which seems to be keeping the room cool.
14
You continue walking around the room, looking at the same paintings and wondering if you
hadn’t seen them already. You notice many people’s attention in one place and wonder what they
are looking at. When you notice them leave, you go to have a look. You can’t believe what you see.
A gem!
You remember having seen it featured in the national newspaper’s section, ‘The Rich Men’s Possessions’. It’s the flawless star ruby. It’s red in color, medium dark tone about 15 carats in an oval cabochon cut. Its star shimmers over the surface of the stone and is visible when illuminated at an angle with a single light source. It has a strong florescence when exposed to ultra violet rays like those in sunlight and holds its vivid color under all lighting conditions. It has also been in the family for five generations and originated from Burma, now Myanmar. You recall it was worth almost $50,000 or something in that range.
Of course you can’t even convert that money in your head, but you know it’s a whole lot of money. Then your mind drifts back to that paper you keep under your pillow and then to Karen!
Your conscience goes on a trip! All you think of is how to get the ruby from its glass case. You look around to see if anyone is watching you. You envision Nicko in one of the corners busy talking to an incredibly beautiful young lady, you decide it’s the rich man’s daughter and at that moment it doesn’t matter. You look in all directions and notice that people are departing from the gallery through various exits. You now know it’s safe and you open the case as your heart races, threatening to pierce through your chest, you pick up the ruby and fix it in the pockets of Nicko’s father’s trouser.
As you walk around the house, you remember a Nigerian movie you watched, where a young man steals a diamond ring from a jeweller’s store, not knowing it had juju. The ring caused rapid deaths, bizarre illnesses and utter impoverishment in the young man’s family, until he decided to take it back. But you know witchcraft cannot affect you unless you believe in it. You convince yourself that your prayers will be stronger than any juju the gem could possibly bear. You forget that you actually just stole something and God might not hear your prayers.
You don’t even think about who will buy that gem, when all the news stations and newspapers throughout the country have already reported on the multi-dollar gem. Your body is frail, as if you are carrying a heavy boulder on your back. You lose interest in the party. You call Nicko and tell him, ‘Man, I’m leaving, I will return your father’s suit tomorrow and will help you clean the house’. Nicko can hardly understand why you have to leave so suddenly when the party has hardly started, but what matters more to him at that moment is basking in the aura of the billionaire’s daughter.
You walk successfully past all the three exits leading outside. You walk to the gate and smile at the askaris, knowing it’s the right thing to do since it shows appreciation for their work. And before you know it, your arms are behind your back, you feel chilly metal hug your wrists! Two heavily bodied men are holding your shoulders tight on both sides and they’re not saying a single word. You kick about with your legs but there is no way you can brush them off of you. Instead, the heavy bouncer puts Nicko’s father’s coat through the shredder as he gets a better grip of you. You are dumbfounded, but you are sure it has something to do with the ruby, its juju perhaps - in fact most definitely. You are taken back to the house and embarrassed in front of the guests. You are asked who you came with and you point at Nicko.
Nicko looks behind him only to see the wall - so it is definitely him being singled out ‘What! I don’t even know that man’. Nicko denies you, his boy. The sirens come closing in and you’re scared for your life. You are pushed out of the house and dumped into the back of a double cabin vehicle like garbage. Your boy, Nicko, is only worried about his father’s suit and how he will tidy up his house alone, not whether you will rot in jail.
You remember having seen it featured in the national newspaper’s section, ‘The Rich Men’s Possessions’. It’s the flawless star ruby. It’s red in color, medium dark tone about 15 carats in an oval cabochon cut. Its star shimmers over the surface of the stone and is visible when illuminated at an angle with a single light source. It has a strong florescence when exposed to ultra violet rays like those in sunlight and holds its vivid color under all lighting conditions. It has also been in the family for five generations and originated from Burma, now Myanmar. You recall it was worth almost $50,000 or something in that range.
Of course you can’t even convert that money in your head, but you know it’s a whole lot of money. Then your mind drifts back to that paper you keep under your pillow and then to Karen!
Your conscience goes on a trip! All you think of is how to get the ruby from its glass case. You look around to see if anyone is watching you. You envision Nicko in one of the corners busy talking to an incredibly beautiful young lady, you decide it’s the rich man’s daughter and at that moment it doesn’t matter. You look in all directions and notice that people are departing from the gallery through various exits. You now know it’s safe and you open the case as your heart races, threatening to pierce through your chest, you pick up the ruby and fix it in the pockets of Nicko’s father’s trouser.
As you walk around the house, you remember a Nigerian movie you watched, where a young man steals a diamond ring from a jeweller’s store, not knowing it had juju. The ring caused rapid deaths, bizarre illnesses and utter impoverishment in the young man’s family, until he decided to take it back. But you know witchcraft cannot affect you unless you believe in it. You convince yourself that your prayers will be stronger than any juju the gem could possibly bear. You forget that you actually just stole something and God might not hear your prayers.
You don’t even think about who will buy that gem, when all the news stations and newspapers throughout the country have already reported on the multi-dollar gem. Your body is frail, as if you are carrying a heavy boulder on your back. You lose interest in the party. You call Nicko and tell him, ‘Man, I’m leaving, I will return your father’s suit tomorrow and will help you clean the house’. Nicko can hardly understand why you have to leave so suddenly when the party has hardly started, but what matters more to him at that moment is basking in the aura of the billionaire’s daughter.
You walk successfully past all the three exits leading outside. You walk to the gate and smile at the askaris, knowing it’s the right thing to do since it shows appreciation for their work. And before you know it, your arms are behind your back, you feel chilly metal hug your wrists! Two heavily bodied men are holding your shoulders tight on both sides and they’re not saying a single word. You kick about with your legs but there is no way you can brush them off of you. Instead, the heavy bouncer puts Nicko’s father’s coat through the shredder as he gets a better grip of you. You are dumbfounded, but you are sure it has something to do with the ruby, its juju perhaps - in fact most definitely. You are taken back to the house and embarrassed in front of the guests. You are asked who you came with and you point at Nicko.
Nicko looks behind him only to see the wall - so it is definitely him being singled out ‘What! I don’t even know that man’. Nicko denies you, his boy. The sirens come closing in and you’re scared for your life. You are pushed out of the house and dumped into the back of a double cabin vehicle like garbage. Your boy, Nicko, is only worried about his father’s suit and how he will tidy up his house alone, not whether you will rot in jail.
15
The gem and your dreams are gone. Karen is gone!
The vehicle drives off at high speed as if it were carrying cash in transit, most definitely heading to Luzira maximum prison considering it’s the nearest to the vicinity. And you’re right. The vehicle stops moving and you are picked up by your wrists which are still behind your back. The physical pain and worry about ruining Nicko’s father’s suit is nothing compared to the thought that Karen is already in another man’s embrace.
You are pushed into a three walled unpainted cubicle with a single metallic door, a wooden bench in one corner and old newspaper cuttings rest uncomfortably on the walls. The door slams behind you, you fold your mighty thieving right hand into a fist that you ram into the walls and hiss through false teeth like a puff adder, ‘I’ll get out of here, damn it.’
Depression sets in as you try to deal with reality. Denial follows. You convince yourself it will only be a matter of time, maybe a week and then you will be set free. You put off the coat and place it on the bench. You affix your hands to Nicko’s father’s trouser pockets trying to analyze your situation in your mind and bang! The gem is still in the pockets. You wonder who is fooling who! You? Them? Juju? You are excited but fearful also. ‘Does it matter anyway?’ You ask yourself. You are locked in a cell, neither you nor the gem has a sense of freedom at the moment.
You move to the door that was harshly slammed behind you and wrap both your hands on its bars still trying to deal with reality. A certain electrifying feeling runs through your whole body instantly, exerting such a force on the heavy metals bars that the door lets off a cry. You stare thunderstruck - the door completely wide open. Freedom?! ‘Who’s fooling who?’
Perhaps your dreams are not ruined after all!
The vehicle drives off at high speed as if it were carrying cash in transit, most definitely heading to Luzira maximum prison considering it’s the nearest to the vicinity. And you’re right. The vehicle stops moving and you are picked up by your wrists which are still behind your back. The physical pain and worry about ruining Nicko’s father’s suit is nothing compared to the thought that Karen is already in another man’s embrace.
You are pushed into a three walled unpainted cubicle with a single metallic door, a wooden bench in one corner and old newspaper cuttings rest uncomfortably on the walls. The door slams behind you, you fold your mighty thieving right hand into a fist that you ram into the walls and hiss through false teeth like a puff adder, ‘I’ll get out of here, damn it.’
Depression sets in as you try to deal with reality. Denial follows. You convince yourself it will only be a matter of time, maybe a week and then you will be set free. You put off the coat and place it on the bench. You affix your hands to Nicko’s father’s trouser pockets trying to analyze your situation in your mind and bang! The gem is still in the pockets. You wonder who is fooling who! You? Them? Juju? You are excited but fearful also. ‘Does it matter anyway?’ You ask yourself. You are locked in a cell, neither you nor the gem has a sense of freedom at the moment.
You move to the door that was harshly slammed behind you and wrap both your hands on its bars still trying to deal with reality. A certain electrifying feeling runs through your whole body instantly, exerting such a force on the heavy metals bars that the door lets off a cry. You stare thunderstruck - the door completely wide open. Freedom?! ‘Who’s fooling who?’
Perhaps your dreams are not ruined after all!
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