Iman Bashar | Thirty-six
THE MINES OF DEATH
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The prison mines was a two-hour ride away from the capital city of Ara. I, alongside twenty other prisoners, was transported in a bamboo cage by enforcers, with chains around our wrists and ankles.
The only black person in the cage, a young man around my age or a few years older, wore a rosary around his neck. I recognized it from the days I spent protecting Christians during their hours of worship. He toyed with the cross attached to it, his eyes closed with the back of his head resting against the bamboo cage. The only reason a man like him would be shipped off to the mines was if he too was found guilty of blasphemy. The rosary around his neck with a cross was enough to implicate him. From the looks of him, he was no high born.
His eyes fluttered open and I turned my gaze to the cracks between the bamboo. We were now on the outskirts of the capital, where the roads were not as smooth or as wide. The cage rocked us all from side to side. As time passed, the lines of huts morphed into lines of trees and open farmland, then that morphed into large gray mountains.
The noise of the city was now far behind us, leaving only the sounds of throttling horses and the lazy swaggering wheels of our cage, rolling over stone and sand. There was nothing else for me to see out there. Nothing but large vast mountains with sharp pointed edges, piercing the orange sun in the sky.
"Halt!" a deep voice yelled and we throttled to a stop. I swallowed, glancing about. We had arrived.
A few prison guards walked around the bamboo cage, examining it, before one asked, "How many?"
"Twenty," replied an enforcer, then he jumped off his horse.
They spoke for a few more minutes before the prison guard put two fingers under his tongue and whistled. A deep croaking noise filled the air as gates I could not see from the tiny spaces between the bamboo were being pulled apart. The bamboo cage was loosened from the enforcers' horses and transferred to those of the prison guards, and our journey continued.
It wasn't until we were crossing the gates I was able to get a good sight of it. It was like crossing the valley of death. The gates were made of iron, at least four floors high, and wide enough to cast a long shadow that just stretched on. We continued in for a few minutes before reaching the second gate with similar resemblance to the first. Once we were past the second gate, it was shut behind us. The prison guard jumped off his horse, and the sound of jangling keys followed him to the door of our cage.
"Get out! Line up!" shouted the pot-bellied, heavily bearded guard, once he'd unlocked the cage. We obeyed, jumping out and staggering to maintain our footing. "Keep it moving, we haven't all day!" he screamed. "Straight line! Straight line!"
We lined up as best we could with the chains around our ankles and wrists hindering easy movement, my eyes darting everywhere, memorizing every corner it could reach. I knew once we were in the mining caves, there would be no seeing daylight for too long. We could hear the clanking noises, axes' and hammers slamming into stone. Iron hitting against iron.
The air was hazy, thick, and smelt of iron and smoke. The dust tormented our lungs with each breath, there was coughing and sneezing among us and my eyes watered. It was all iron and wood and stone. All gray and ash with no greenery. I had barely gotten a good sight of the prison, but it was already living up to its reputation as one of the most dreadful places in all of Arjana.
"You'll ease into, alright," the pot-bellied guard said, moving his belt in place, allowing him unhook another set of hanging keys.
A thin scruffy white boy came running out of the caves, his tiny hands shielding his eyes from the sun. He was dirty, his pale skin covered in brown patches, his sack clothes that should have been white in color appeared to be smeared all over with coal, and his feet were calloused and covered in blisters. When he arrived and bowed before the pot-bellied guard, the guard tapped him on the shoulder, then handed him the keys to our chains. Without needing anymore commands, the boy began unlocking our chains.
"The rules are simple. Mining begins before sunrise every day. You will have breakfast at noon and resume working at 1 pm. You will have lunch and dinner and 9 pm, lights out at 10 pm. You must mine twenty baskets of coal a day and will be allowed a bath once a week. No talking during mining hours. No talking during sleeping hours. Questions," the prison guard concluded. A woman raised her hand and he nodded at her.
"And if we do not make twenty baskets a day?" she stuttered.
"No sleeping hours. No dinner," he stated in a final tone.
"What happens if we finish earlier?"
"More free time."
"And..." she chewed her lips. "What happens when I have my monthly bleeding."
He shrugged. "Any other questions." No one else spoke as his eyes traveled West then East. "Listen up," he stepped forward, "This will be your worst nightmare. If you are lucky, a judiciary will hear your case in a month. Until then, keep your heads low, and do your work." He slammed his hand on the shoulder of the scrawny boy who had just finished unlocking all our chains. "This is Tom. She will show you the ropes." He turned and started towards the wooden stairs behind him that led to an upper chamber I supposed was just for prison guards.
I kept my eyes on Tom, the portrait her mother had given me was nothing like she looked. Her hair was short and her cheek sunken. I confused her for a boy at first glance.
"Jookwah, I be Tom," she introduced in broken English with a smile, flashing butter-yellow teeth with pride.
"Tom. I am Iman. Jookwah."
"Jookwah," she replied.
"My name is Elota," the black Christian man stepped forward. "Jookwah."
I turned to the rest of the twenty, nodding them over. They circled Tom and began sharing names and greetings.
"I know say e no look good," Tom began, "but e no dey bad like that. You go see. And twenty baskets of coal no too much like that." She smiled again, trying to put us at ease. Of course, she would say that, it was the only life she had ever known. Her gaze fluttered upwards. "The only thing weh you suppose fear." The only thing you should be afraid of.
I turned to where her eyes had trailed to and found a seven-foot-tall woman, cloaked in a tiger skin coat, tearing into us with a stare. "Who?" I asked.
"Na the prison warden. Bow," she instructed, and we all did. "Now come, make I show una where you go sleep." She led the way "The prison guard weh bring una, e name na Oga Tunde. Na good man e be. Na Oga Tunde weh ask warden make una no work today. Una go work tomorrow." Now come, let me show you where you all where you will sleep. The prison guard that brought you all, his name is Oga Tunde. He is a good man. Oga Tunde asked the warden so you don't have to work today. You all will begin work tomorrow.
We followed Tom into the mountain and found nothing but darkness. Snagging a torch from the wall, she led the way into the cave, a deep tunnel of hazy blackness. The deeper we traveled, the louder the banging grew. More coughing and sneezing amongst my battalion.
"E dey okay!" It is okay, Tom said, "You go get used to am!" You will get used to it! She tried speaking over the loud noises. "Una no go fit wash today, today no be washing day. But water to drink go come after dinner! Better people dey here! People weh no too good dey as well! But most na better people! Everyone dey keep to their sef, no take their quietness personal! Dem don suffer too much!" she continued in and we followed in her footsteps.
Today is not washing day! So you can't wash today! But drinking water after dinner! There are lots of good people here! Lots of bad people too! But mainly good! Everyone tries to keep to themselves, don't take cold should shoulders personally! They have all been through a lot!"
It was a fifteen-minute trek before we arrived in where Tom called the heart of the mine.
"E dey Beautiful abi?" Beautiful isn't it? Tom was smiling.
It was like staring at a thousand fireflies, sprawled over a large mountain, only those fireflies were people, hammering into the mountain while a little lantern lit their paths.
"Make we go your sleeping quarters." Let's go to your sleeping quarters. Tom turned into another passage and we followed.
The mine wine was a dark maze of stone and coal, every route we took looked exactly the same, rows upon rows of mountain roughness. Up long stairs, we traveled. Then we took another turn to the right into a long passageway stacked with hay.
"Na here," It is here. Tom said.
"That's it?" Elota asked.
"Una dey lucky! Na today we put new hay weh fresh, una go sleep on top soft hay tonight." You lot are lucky! We just restocked the hay, you will be sleeping on top of soft hay tonight.
Tom was smiling but everyone else was flabbergasted. Not as flabbergasted as Elota of course, he was a black man, no matter how poor he was, he had never been 'sleeping in a hay' kind of poor. That was for us. I smirked and continued into the sleeping pen. Sleeping on hay, in my opinion, was more comfortable than sleeping on a mat. Shortly after, others followed in.
"Una go get mining tools tomorrow. Make una try keep am safe. If you una lose anyone, dem go send una down to clean the river weh dead body dey pack. No be something you want." You will get your mining tools tomorrow, make sure to keep them safe. If you lose anyone, you will be sent down to clean out the river of dead bodies. You do not want that.
I turned sharply to Tom, "The river? I thought only a select few could enter?"
"Dem change the law years back. The river block. To dey swim for inside river weh dead body and shit full no dey good. Try keep your tools safe." The laws changed a few years ago, the river got too clogged. Swimming in a river where dead bodies and excrement are piled is a horrible affair. Keep your tools safe.
"Of course. I fit ask something, Tom?" Can I ask a question, Tom?
Her eyes brightened, "Yes! I'm... happy to need me!" She chuckled. "Sorry, my English no good. But I hear it."
I smiled and stepped forward. "I fit speak pidgin, Tom, no worry. Where I fit find one Jamilah Yusuf?"
"You know Aunty Jamilah?"
"I am an old friend?"
Nodding she said, "Ah, that mean say e don tey when una see." Must be quite some time since you saw her then.
I had never seen Jamilah Yusuf. I hadn't the slightest clue who she was, only that she was the one the oracle employed me to rescue. A mission for a dream Jamilah was. "Yes, e don tey." Yes, it has been long.
"Na Aunty Jamilah dey run kitchen now. She no dey stay for this side." Aunty Jamilah runs the kitchen now. She doesn't stay on this side of the prison.
"Which side she dey?" Where does she stay?
"She fit dey kitchen now." She is probably in the kitchen now.
"You fit take me to her?" Can you take me to her?
"No no no, e dey against rules, na only people weh dey cook dey enter kitchen." No no no, its against the rules. Only cooks are allowed in the kitchen.
I sighed, my face dropping. "I understand."
"But I fit take you to her side after we don chop dinner." But I can take you to where she sleeps after we have eaten dinner.
"You fit?" You can?
"Price dey sha," There is a price, she said with a cute pout and I smiled.
"Name it."
"Your rat meat."
My brows elevated. "R–rat, meat?"
Tom nodded, waving me closer and I lowered myself to her height, bringing my ear to her lips. "Make I tell you something, Aunty Jamilah dey cook yam porridge today. Rat meat dey inside." I will tell you a secret. Aunty Jamilah is making yam porridge today. There will be rat meat in it. She giggled, seeming very happy.
I giggled with her and then we shook on it. "You can have all the rat meat you wish."
From what her mother had told me about her, Tom should have been at least twenty-one. But her days in the mines had stunted her growth in a way I could not quite explain. There were many things childlike about her. She was a heart too pure for a place so dreary.
It was dinner before she returned to get us, and in her usual fashion talked all the way through, pointing here and there. The mine was a town of its own, with cultures and traditions unique to the way of life of its people. Just like Tom had warned, the people mostly kept to themselves. She showed us the pee wall where everyone came to pee and told us she'd bring stool calabashes after dinner after explaining in a rather agonizing detail how excretions are collected every three days.
We arrived inside a large cave for dinner where hundreds of prisoners gathered in large numbers for food. A long ever growing line was formed and I was surprised to find no one trying to cheat the line.
"Up there," Tom pointed when I asked why. I looked up and found a dozen prison guards high up on the cave walls, pointing arrows downwards. "Stay for line, or dem go shoot." Stay right on the line or they will shoot.
I nodded. "Got it."
We were served the most watery yam porridge I had ever seen, nothing but a horrid mixture of palm oil, water, and a few miserable pieces of yam. At least it looked like yam. The second I sat, Tom moved her plate across to me, chirpy as ever.
"Rat meat no dey," There is no rat meat, I said.
"Put your spoon. Turn am around."
I ran my wooden spoon around the plate and hit something. Her rat meat. I scooped it up and almost gagged at the sight. "What is that?"
"Put it, put it," she lifted her plate, "abeg! You promised." Please, you promised.
I dumped it into her plate and she dove right in. The rest of my battalion giggled when I lifted my face in horror. One scoop and I sure as hell would have filled up my excrement calabash that night.
"You go eat am?" Will you eat it? Tom asked when she saw I hadn't touched my plate.
"Not so hungry," I shifted it to her and she jumped right after licking her plate clean. I patted her head and watched her with concern. She ate rather quickly, drinking the oil and water mixture with joy. I couldn't get everyone out. But Tom, I needed to, at least her.
After dinner, she got us all drinking water, then took my hand and said, "Lights go soon off. If you still wan see Aunty Jamilah, we suppose dey go now." It will soon be lights out. If you still want to see Aunty Jamilah, we have to go now. She led the way.
Her steps were quick and quiet, and soon I realized she was avoiding prison guards with ease. As a prison child, she knew her way around the prison like I knew my way around a sword. In minutes we are in a whole different section, one that was tidier, cleaner, and more fragrant. The residents wore more colorful clothes and slept in small wooden beds. This was where one percent of prisoners lived.
"Aunty Jamilah," she called, her steps quickening towards a round table where the game of Ayo was being played by four laughing women.
"Tom Tom!" a dark skin chubby woman, who made the rest of the women around the table appear too large opened her arms to Tom. Amongst them, she was the thinnest, but her body was a mountain in comparison to Tom's. "I don warn you make you stop to dey come here before lights out." She wiped Tom's face with the side of her wrapper.
"I know, I know. I say make I bring your friend." Tom turned to me and Jamilah's eyes studied me from head to toe.
"My friend ke? Who you be?" My friend? Who are you? she asked.
"Iman Bashar, Jookwah." I bowed a little.
"I do not know an Iman Bashar," she stated in pure English, rising from her seat. "I do not know you."
My gaze trailed to her hand where a dagger slipped out from under her long-sleeved blouse.
"No, you do not. But it would be wise to hear me out."
"Because?"
I heaved a sigh and stepped forward, stopping when she pressed the dagger into my abdomen.
"You will need me to escape this hell," I whispered.
***
New Chapter Tomorrow 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾