"Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another."
- Ernest Hemingway.
When Adira was far below the average height, about two feet and a few inches, she watched a fellow human being torture and kill one of its own. It was one of the scariest things she'd ever seen in her life. Her mother had warned her about it. Her mother warned her about a lot of things but as usual, she never listened. She couldn't bring herself to sleep for days and when she finally did, she had nightmares.
They didn't make movies like that anymore.
It was a hot Saturday afternoon, but then, if Adira recalled, there wasn't a cold one. There were breezy some days, but not cold. And though it was a rainy season, when the sun came out, it felt as if it was the dry season all over again.
The sun was almost skinning her alive, burning into her skin as she protected her face with the palm of her hand. It was 10:00 AM and she was heading to the market.
She waited patiently under a mango tree for a bus, since it took her straight to her location.
"Mile one! Mile one! Mile one!" a bus conductor wailed frantically, pounding the body of the bus rhythmically.
Adira waved her hand at the incoming bus and it immediately came to a halt. She climbed steadily into it, greeting every older passenger her eyes rested on.
She found a seat close to the window and rested her small body on it. After then, she retrieved her market list to see if she got everything she and her family needed on the piece of paper.
Being content with what she had read, she pushed the paper into her trouser pocket and rested her head on the window frame.
The breeze that blew on her ears was hot and devouring. The only good thing it brought was the unabridged silence that matched the refreshing sound and voice of Eddy Grant as his song Hope played on the radio.
Minutes after minutes the bus conductor rasped the top of the bus twice to either collect move or to remove passengers. When it was her turned, she collected five hundred naira note from her purse and handed it to the man. He eyed her genuinely then grinned. She returned the smile.
Port Harcourt was a very beautiful place and the very market she arrived at brought back so many memories. The memory of wanting to grow up so fast, the memory of freedom, and self-experience.
When Adira was a teenager, she had an inevitable longing for freedom and adventure, but being the only child (at that time), her parents protected her so much that sometimes she forgot how to be alive. One day she dared herself to be adventurous even if it was for one day.
It was like one of those pagan love that was only read about in novels that were so dangerous and hopeless. It was like a love that was bound to never even exist, but the protagonist still took faith in it.
Adira had never lied, she had never stolen, she never ran away from home or disappointed her parents, but the day she did it - she did it all at once.
She lied about where she would be, stole her father's money, and she ran. She didn't run far but it was far enough for her to see things. She took the bus, just like she did today and when she arrived at the market, she was astonished by the whole view. She had come to understand why the protagonist had faith in a hopeless love because they could see the beauty in front of them.
The everlasting eye of the sky that painted everything blue and grey and every other thing anyone could imagine.
Little Adira didn't know what was more beautiful. Was it the sky or the beautiful people that spoke different languages but somehow still understood each other? Or maybe it was the umbrellas that shaded the sellers and their merchandises. They were a combination of colours. The colours of the rainbow and a little bit more. Adira admired not just the colour of the umbrellas but also of the people. When she had enough of the scene she strolled back to where the bus had stopped her and waited for another bus.
They were a lot of people on that spot too. Soon enough, a bus arrived and people started moving in.
"Express road! Express road! Express road!" the bus conductor cried. Adira jumped into the bus smiling. She knew she had achieved something that day without the help of her parents. She rested her head on the window frame, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
When she opened her eyes, she realised the bus was still moving but then the people in it didn't look familiar at all. They weren't the people she had met.
"Please, where are we?" she asked the bus conductor.
"Duncan road," he replied, not making eye contact.
Adira almost shouted. She felt the hot liquid rolled down her face. She didn't know how to get home from where she was. She had never even heard about the place.
"Please, when will we arrive Express road?" she tried.
"Ah!" the conductor exclaimed. "We don pass that side tey tey. You no sabi road again?"
She shook her head. He sighed and hit the bus twice. He helped her get out, gave her directions on how to get home and then he left, the bus zooming off.
Adira was grateful even when she didn't understand what he was saying. And there was a bigger problem - she didn't have enough money to get home. It was then she knew that she needed her parent's help.
Now she was a grown woman. She was making bigger mistakes and she didn't always have her parents to help her out.
After Adira had finished with what she had come for, she stood with the mass of people waiting for the next bus. All of a sudden, a cry came from the far end of the market.
"Thief! Thief!"
The voice belonged to a woman. She was a very good looking woman, who looked like she wasn't supposed to do what she was doing. The lady wore a pink loose blouse and a black skirt that was folded up to her knees.
The accused in person turned to her with worry in his eyes. "Madam, I didn't steal your money." he countered. "I swear I'm not a thief."
"Liar!" she shouted. That seemed to be the only thing she was good at. "Give me my money now!"
The man shook his head furiously. "I didn't take your money."
"Shut up!" she shouted again, landing a slap across his face. "Thief, thief o! This man stole my money."
The man didn't bother running. It was far more dangerous than standing. If he did run, the mobs will magically double in size. So he stood there, doing nothing more than trying to defend himself.
"Madam, how much wey this man steal?" a man came out from the crowd and asked.
"Six thousand naira! This thief here, he took all my money," the accuser replied, grateful she had gotten the attention she needed.
"Eh," the man exclaimed. "For this kind hard time," he turned to the accused and smiled. "Your own don finish be that."
Before the accused could say anything else, someone from the back shot a jab aimed at the side of his ribs then kicked him from the back with his knee. The man lunged forward, blood streaming from his nostrils. Another blow landed on his stomach.
The accused began convulsing on the floor, scratching and bleeding. The mobs held him up. He started coughing out blood as the uncontrolled blows landed on his body. When he screamed, urine trickled from him and crept on the floor.
Adira's eyes roamed on the mass of faces in confusion. They all watched piteously from afar. Everyone knew just how it will end.
"Comot him trouser!" someone spat.
More mobs came with sticks as they beat all around the naked body without contrition. His chest swelled in pain. His whole body turned purple as huge red marks covered his skin, appearing darker and blacker with time.
Adira was still watching, she didn't want to but she was glued to the scene. Her eyes were a light shade of red as she watched the man fold into a ball, all in hopes of protecting his organs. Then, someone hit him on the head. He wailed, agonized by everything. When he screamed, Adira noticed he had lost a tooth and then he looked at her. He was scared because he knew his end. She flinched, her heart so traumatized by his look that for the first time, she had to look away.
His eyes were swollen, just like when you cried at night then wake up in the morning and you couldn't recognize yourself anymore. Adira could hardly look at them but she knew he was staring at her. He was begging her to speak for him.
"Please, leave him alone," she screamed, shivering to herself.
"Who bin talk that kind thing?" the man who threw the first blow asked. His voice was everything but calm.
Adira didn't answer, she couldn't.
"Oh," the man laughed mockingly. "If na your thing wey him been steal or your mama or papa thing, you for fit talk that kind thing? If you carry mind, talk am again."
The accused breath was coming in quick and uneven. He spat blood out of his mouth, coughing as he rested on his knees and palms. He shook his head still trying to defend himself.
Someone struck him on the head again. He fell back, hugging his stomach.
It was a miracle he was still alive.
"Please, please," he mumbled, waving his hand and writhing in pain. "Just stop. I beg you, please."
Everybody went for his exposed groin with a stick. He didn't scream or move. His eyes rolled back in his head. He laid there stiff; unable to breathe, unable to be alive.
"I get tyre," someone called.
"I get fuel."
"I go bring matches."
"I didn't take her money. I swear," he cried.
Someone helped put his body into the tyre.
"Please, I beg you."
Someone poured fuel all over his body.
"Don't do it. I'm innocent," he struggled with his last word, blood fuming from his mouth. "Please."
The last person lit a matchstick. It flared in his hands as he dropped it on the body. The man screamed in pain but he was barely heard. His pain covered his pain. His body twisted as it slowly turned red, then grey, black skin falling off like burnt banana peel.
White entrails oozed from the body as blood and urine crept on the floor. A lot of faeces flowed out of him when the fire caught his buttocks. The fire bit into his flesh exposing his pelvic girdle. Everyone watched in pure horror. His eyes popped and melted as blood and mucus sprouted from them. The same scared eyes that stared at Adira.
There was silence as everyone watched the whole body twist with its last impulse of life.
Adira closed her eyes, the whole market smelt of blood and faeces.
What was life? Right in the middle of the market was a dead man who took his last breath not too long ago. What was life?
Just when everyone thought it was over, a child ran to the accuser. He stood in front of her panting.
"Auntie, see your money," he held out a copious amount of money in his hands. "It fell to the ground while you were walking. I was calling you but you didn't answer. You were running too."
The woman stood shivering. She turned wan just by the sheer silence of the crowd. She looked at the dead body as tears ran down her cheeks.
She wasn't crying for him, she was crying for herself.
"Witch!" someone yelled.
"Murderer."
"The devil herself."
"Kill her too."
"Kill her."
"Kill her."
"Follow kill am! Na she cause am."
The crowd kept on screaming.
"Chai. This woman na witch," someone murmured.
The man who struck the first blow came out again. He stared at her bitterly, irritated by her very presence.
"Please," she blubbered.
The man held her by the hair as she winced in pain.
"Please, don't do it. I beg you," she started, words coming out of her mouth as fast as she could let them. "I have money. I'll give you money. I promise. Please, don't touch me."
"Tyre too good for your body," he released his grip, flinging her to the ground.
"Stone her!"
Everyone grabbed a stone, even women did this time. The first one landed on her head, she fell to the ground, a patch of raw skin at the centre of her head.
Adira contoured her face in fear but she still stood there. She watched.
"You still dey go?" the bus conductor asked her, obviously unmoved by the whole scenario.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Okay!
Thank you for reading this chapter (seriously thanks). It was hard to write since I've never experienced JUNGLE JUSTICE before, but I wanted to write about something that actually happens, something that I'm afraid of.
Thanks again.
Don't forget to vote and comment. I'd really appreciate it.
Poetic Licence was used!!!
Shine!