“Idiot you wan cover evidence abi” the policeman asked as he reached down and grabbed me by the neck, tightening his grip harder, he brought me close to his face and I looked down to avoid the stench of beer and cigarettes emitting out of his mouth.
When I raised my humble head up, I saw with the aid of the car lights that his eyes were bloodshot and his head was like an average woman’s behind, or more like a bicycles seat; he was a giant. My mates often referred to heads like that as “Igbo man head”. For some seconds, I fancied the head descending on mine, and then it happened, his head came crashing on mine furiously and harder as the time went; one….two…..three….four….five….
And I lost count, my eyes sparked, my eyeballs seemed to rotate, I also felt my neck bending and he butted me again and I turned around twice and fell downwards, completely prostrating on the wet dew. I felt my head was about to burst open.
My head was pounding hard inside; the policeman turned me over and my face now upwards, still on the ground. His leg found its way to my tight skin bag where the creator had stored my productive cells and tucked it between my legs and he smashed it. I groaned and shrieked in pain, my hand immediately went down between my legs and soothed the skin bag, feeling the two balls in it, one of the balls was sagging down and I pushed it up, readjusting it, it hurt badly.
The policeman dragged me up to my feet’s, the superior gave an order that I should be shot! I couldn’t wail or cry because of the shock my skin bag received, I put my hand into my boxers and was still soothing it; when the officer close to me cocked his gun, squeezed the trigger and pushed the gun into my stomach, I staggered back, a horrible expression on my face, the policemen laughed at me. I took my hands off my stomach, expecting to see blood on my hands. The gun wasn’t a loaded; “I was foolish, I should have jumped over and escaped”.
I cooked up the best story I could imagine; seasoned with lies, but lies always have loopholes, for they didn’t believe me at all, I was then asked to knell on stones and broken pieces of bottles; a policeman removed them from his pocket and spread them in a round small circle, and he pushed me to my knees into the circle.
“Sir…… pleeaaase, pity me naw; ‘ashe’ I said and groaned in pain due to the sharp piercing broken bottles and rough stones.
“Shut up! Fool, the superior roared, who is there” he asked?
“Sir, the nearest policeman answered.
“Any more word from him, knock his teeth’s out, pieces it!” The policeman smiled and tapped the butt of his gun.
I started crying and wailing like a small child at the moment.
“Eeiz, look me, the policeman who was close said, you the craze ; behave your serf ooo, you de hear so…. If I hear your voice again, I go take carry the nyash of this gun…… hit your head comot. This place resembles your fada hauz….. Wetin come dey worri u serf” the policeman hissed and turned away out of pity, I was sobbing, the tears all over my face, mucus coming out of my nose.
“Please… please sir, abeg; no do me lyk this, just free me make I go” I was still talking, ignoring his warning. I had already conformed to their Pidgin English to communicate better.
“you still the talk abi, I swear to GOD who made me, based on who I be baaa…… if I see that you mouth open again, I go use better punch clear your mouth; you de craze, the Yoruba policeman, amongst them threatened. I knew he was a Yoruba because of his accent.
“Confess oh” the superior said at last.
“Haaah, sir if you take me back to school, I will be expelled”
“Ooohoo, so you are student serf, the policeman who threatened to remove my head with his gun said.
“aah, we must take you back ooo, because if we release you; the next time you will still enter town and if sars happen to catch you the next time as you are on the fence, they will shoot and every chapter of your life close!
“Shikena” The Hausa police said.
“Mata end” The Yoruba police also commented.
They bundled me up into the back of the van, the Hausa and Yoruba policemen inside with me. The Yoruba policeman was holding a very thick and long fan belt, he gave me to hot lashes on the my bare
Back, they both forced me to lie-down flat facing up. I started developing cold feet’s. The car’s engine roared to life and in some seconds the vehicle headed for the school gate, the police superior driving switched on the siren and it was blaring loud and shrill. Just a little distance from the school gate the two policemen descended on me, the Yoruba policeman focused on my mouth; hitting it hard with his strong boots, while the Hausa policeman took to my legs, hitting it with the thick cane and on one occasion he hit my skin bag again with the cane and this time I felt it like an electricity shock.
On entering the school premises, the bell was rung for closure of night preps; they drove straight for the administrative block; one quarter of the staffs were there because the heard the siren, the preps coordinator who I had earlier dodged was also there. As I edged my way out of the car, all eyes were on me inquisitively, looking for an explanation. The police superior cleared his throat and told the audience that my case should be handled properly. The Yoruba man winked at me from the van as they drove away. I turned and met the angry faces of all the staffs and I swallowed hard and rehearsed my brain for a story to tell.
To be continued....