FORGIVE ME PAST: Facing the Facts

His entire body, especially the face—at least as far as I could see—had been roughened with scars, of which some were still fresh. It was clear that he had been tortured of late. He had lost both weight and the look of authority that once nested in his visage. He looked like a street kid—a street adult for that matter. His skin was as black as coal, and his eyes, bloodshot.

I didn’t know what to say to him. How could I even speak first? The only thing in my mind was the fact that months ago, I had escaped without him. I couldn’t even tell if he had seen the message I was able to send before I left. But nurse Peace had told me about his abrupt departure…maybe he received and read it in time. But if that is so, why is he here, I thought. I ‘broke’ my legs and sat near him, flexing my knees to my bony chest. Silence.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return to the clinic. Things were heating up so fast, and I thought the best thing was to leave immediately,” I pleaded innocent before my ‘judge’. [Anyway, thanks to my opener because we talked about a lot after breaking the silence. By a lot, I mean a lot! I can’t remember everything but let me try to construct the whole conversation.]

“I should be the one to ask why you’re here,” he replied after a moment of thought. “I read your message and left the clinic immediately but the mistake I did was to return to our hood,” he quickly added before I could reply.

I took my time. “That was so unfortunate,” I almost whispered. After clearing my throat, I added, “I returned from where I was hiding to look for you.” That was part of the truth, but something was missing in it. I intentionally brought it that way to make him feel better. I realised he was so lonely and unhappy. I think Gerald the almighty was also afraid of a prison sentence—that’s funny because he was already in prison. Maybe the period of the sentence was the one that weighed down in his soul.

He smirked. That made me a bit uncomfortable. Before I knew it, he was smiling, and then laughing out loud. I think it was so obvious to him that what I had said was not the complete truth. “We both know that’s not possible,” he said after a minute of dry laughter. His face was still stained with a gay complexion. “I put you in bondage, and if there was a way of escaping from me, you’d take it and never turn back.”

He was partly right, but the way he brought it made it sound like he was saying I was a selfish man. “The life you gave me wasn’t the best, but you gave me a life nevertheless. I really appreciate that,” I found my way into the wave of regret in his heart. “I came back to look for you.” He was buying it—I could see it in his face. “…and Rachael,” I completed the truth after making sure we were breathing the same air.

“Now that sounds like a genuine reason to me,” he retorted after hearing Rachael’s name. “So, how far with the mission, Mr Romeo?” he added sarcastically, fetching me from a moment of blushing.

“I.. I didn’t… I was arrested before I could find her,” I finally constructed a lie amid stammers. I didn’t want to tell him I saw Rachael, pregnant, in fear of either making fun of me, or trashing my feelings with another round of laughter.

“When did you return, and when were you arrested?” he asked.

“I was arrested the very day I returned,” I replied, tilting my head in utter sadness. “About five weeks back, and was taken to Wandegeya Police Post. That’s where I’ve been.”

“That’s so unfortunate,” he returned the sympathy. It was so unbelievable that we were having a pity-party yet in a few hours we were obviously going to suffer an unlikely fate from just a word from a judge—it was guaranteed.

After a relatively long moment of silence, about two minutes later, I decided to surprise him. “Aha, guess who I saw in prison,” I elated his spirits.

“Stone,” he replied reluctantly. I never expected him to bring the dead in our conversation. I took three seconds of silence to usher Stone back to wherever Gerald had fetched him.

“May his soul rest in peace,” I whispered, and loudly, I broke the surprise into Gerald’s unready ears, “Ronnie.”

He immediately gave me a look of astonishment at the mention of that name. His eyes were no longer empty—they were filled with anger, bitterness, disappointment and hatred! “Are you serious?” he almost shouted. Before I could answer, he added, “That Judas! Did you talk to him?” He was starving—starving for whatever I was about to tell him, as long as it was something.

“He didn’t notice me, but whatever got him arrested must have been a very big reason,” I replied. He wanted more. “I saw him once—the day the inspector visited our prison, about three weeks back. I never saw him again afterwards.” He tilted his head and went silent. I think he was mourning over the impossibility of getting Ronnie in his hands. I think he wanted to revenge for all the latter had done to us. Silence. “Rachael is pregnant,” I changed the subject with equally surprising news.

“So you ate her before escaping,” he shouted, concluding the statement of mockery with a hearty laughter. I let him have his moment before breaking to him the heart of the matter.

“I have never had intercourse with her.” Tears were forming in my eyes.

“Then how did you do it, eh? Artifical insemination?” To him, it seemed to be the right moment to make fun of me. He didn’t take a second to think about the other possibilities.

“I saw her the day I returned, pregnant, yet we have never had sex,” I broke into tears. That was such an embarrassment! I felt the other prisoners’ eyes on me. “I mean the baby isn’t mine!” Gerald patted my shoulder when he heard that. His mockery and laughter had seen salvation. It was clear he was now feeling sorry for me.

“Man-up, Kuba,” he said, his hand gripping my shoulder-blade. “To be honest, I never thought that you were serious with that girl.” And there he was, saying the wrong words in such a sensitive moment. I didn’t mind about that nevertheless—I was working on the floods in my eyes. “I thought you were just having some fun.” This needed to stop. At least silence would do the trick if he didn’t know the right words to say at that time.

“Just know I loved her, man,” I crucified his annoying lines. “And I’m not done with her. I’m going to look for her and do what I’m supposed to do.” That was final. Silence.

“How are you going to get out of this, and what will you do afterwards if by any chance you succeed?” he inquired. I did not reply. There was grave silence for minutes. “Let me carry this cross,” he finally uttered the life-changing thought!

“What are you saying?” To be honest, I was surprised.

“I was the one who dragged you into the gangster life, taught you very bad things, and then I was forced to give in your name and appearance during police torture,” he regretted. “I’m not letting you go to jail because of my mistakes. You still have a life to live, questions to be answered, and, if fate aligns in your favor, a woman to love. Let me carry the burden I created.

Sincerely speaking, deep down in my heart, I had been blaming Gerald all along. Indeed he was the one who had led my life into such quagmire. But at that moment, I was feeling pity for him. I wanted to accept his ‘meaty offer’ there and then but on the other hand, I was willing to go through hell with him. Silence. My mouth was empty for words to say. I don’t want to go to jail, and God helps people in various ways, I thought.

“You know it’s now too late, Gerald,” I finally said.

“It’s not too late,” he retorted. I think God was making a way for me… How funny is the sound of that—God making a way for a murderer, a gangster, minus repentance. “When we enter the court, let me do the talking.” This was when I realised Gerald was serious. But there’s a possibility that he’s going to frame me for all things, I thought. “I want you to live your life fully. I know it won’t be easy but it’s easier than being in prison. You can even go to Dubai, work for a few years, and return with something to rebuild your life with,” he preached.

My mouth was zipped by the man’s seriousness. I became exclusively a listener. We shared what seemed to be a father-son moment afterwards for a reasonable time before the cell door was opened, and our names called. Moving out of the cell, we met a short dark man in spects, who the officer introduced as our lawyer. “I’m sorry I’m late, so we’re going to discuss some small matters, and we’ll be set for the court in a few minutes,” he announced, gesturing to us to follow him.