Christmas At Kirikiri
12.35pm
December 21, 2011
The days glide…
One into another
Like waves, washing on the beach
Rising, and falling
Grasping the sand,
Eating away the coastline
So do the endless hours
Eat away my life
No no no. Eat away my life ke. Gosh, it’s this hunger that’s making me write rubbish. Let me use something else.
The days glide
One into another
Like waves, crashing on the beach
Rising, and falling
Grasping at the sand,
Washing away it’s future
Eating away the coastline
So do the endless hours
Eat away my life
One over the other
Eroding my existence
Time trims the tendrils of hope
Respite will never come
And yet, in this,
I find my peace-
“Professor! You get visitor!” The warden’s gruff voice broke my train of thought. Years ago, when I still had my fight, I’d have looked at him with disdain. I looked over to him and smiled. He smiled back. It’s unusual to be friends with wardens, but somehow, over the years they had softened up towards me. I closed my notebook and followed the warden out of the reading room the Prison passed off as a Library.
***
“You’re innocent! And I will get you out of here! I will! I promise!” Elizabeth said. The earnestness in her eyes was so believable. Haha! I almost believed it. I mean, I know I am innocent. I know that. But it’s more than just that. I held her hand in mine, and I kissed it. She was one of those justice types that studied Law because they believe in it. In Nigeria? Law don’t live here no more. I smiled at her, the words failing me.
“Every day that passes, I am grateful to be alive. We weren’t made to live forever, so when ever I go is fine” I say to her with a benevolent smile. It’s the smile you give to your son when he asks why he doesn’t have beards, as he watches you shave. I remember how we met. She came with the Church people every other month, to share supplies, food and the gospel. We got only the gospel and a small portion of the supplies. The benches would still be warm after the departure of the Church people when the wardens would collect said food. We could not complain of course.
On a random day, she had been the one to share the word with me. She was shocked as they usually all were by how educated I was. Many people have the impression that it’s the uneducated that get imprisoned. I told her my story. How I was working in a bank. I was engaged, due to be married the following year. It was Christmas and we had to round up accounts for the year. I got into my neighborhood late that night.
Armed robbers had struck and killed a police officer. I was walking towards my apartment late at night dressed in office clothes. Who else could be the suspect save for me? I wasn’t allowed to contact my family or friends. Seeing as my phones were seized. I was arraigned promptly. The Public Defender the court appointed had better things to do than bother with me. As far as The Sun was concerned I was guilty. Their headline of the story they did on me said it all. I am Innocent! — Police Killing Armed Robber says. I think it would have hurt a little less if the journalist hadn’t acted like he was interested in my plight.
Justice Olutade Ogunmefun was an upright man, who frowned on Murderers especially ones who killed policemen. Sentenced to death by hanging. Justice was swift. In less than 3 months after I was kidnapped by the police on my way home from work, I was awaiting my death.
Elizabeth was aghast, and had devoted herself to my cause. Amnesty International had been interested in my case, as they were with many others. The Nigerian arm was spread really thin over the many injustices in the system. They funded both appeals, and the returns were the same. I can’t remember an exact time, it must be the hours spent with my thoughts to accompany me, but I thought of her more; the way her brows furrowed when she said something earnestly or her smile when she saw me or the look she had in her eyes when she bore bad news.
I fell for her. The prison walls did nothing to cage my heart. And I could see she felt the same way. But she tried to be professional, so she kept it to herself. I didn’t mind, but my heart warmed every minute we spent together. She had come in this afternoon, bearing good news. She had an audience with the Governor and he would be granting pardons for Christmas. The embers of hope in my heart had died a long time ago. We’re all going to die, blessed is the man that knows when. I knew when: Christmas Day 2011.
***
4.30am
December 25, 2011
My dream mocks me
In it,
I am but a wailing lawn
Mowed into subjection
By a lawnmower with black ribbons
I wake up covered in perspiration
Without a doubt as to its meaning
Sleep mocks me
My last night
And I can read its graffitti on the wall
You can sleep when you die
Death, his cousin mocks me
I come for you soon
I’ll take your breath away
And make you mine
My fellow prisoners mock me
Sleep has been merciful to them
The snores around me, a symphony
And I at it’s center, the conductor
The mosquitoes provide a whine
Like violins with strings of silk
Hope keeps me up
Babatunde, the merciful
Never has anyone granted amnesty for Christmas
Freedom for the birth of a savior
If he spares my life,
He’ll be my very own savior
***
3.08pm
December 25th 2011
Is it easier for a hangman
To hang in there,
In the face of adversity?
How does he sleep at night?
Do the souls of the departed,
Hang him in his sleep?
Is he surly?
Is he short and stocky?
Do jowls hang, over his chin?
“Hello, Mr. Segun Akinpelu” I hear the voice from behind me. “The wardens told me I would find you here.”
“Good afternoon, sir” I say with a smile. He’s well dressed. He looks out of place in Kirikiri’s Library but his charm is infectious and puts me at ease. I put away the poem I’m writing for the hangman I am waiting for.
“Did Elizabeth send you, sir?”
“Oh no. Not at all, not like I know Elizabeth is. I’m Santini Muerte, and I will be hanging you today.” He said easily and with a smile at the end like he was gauging my response. He walks from across the room, and tripped once on his untied shoelaces on his way over. The way he recovered his composure reeked of one with brimming confidence. I did wonder why he didn’t bother to lace the shoes that had caused him to almost fall flat on his face.
But I betray nothing of the surprise and turmoil inside of me. “That’s an odd name for a Nigerian hangman” He laughs.
“I like your sense of humor, Segun. Few people about to die hardly possess it”
“It’s the only thing asides hope, I have left.”
“ah yes, you’re one of those. You believe you’re innocent, and Jesus is coming to save you, yes?”
I smile at him
“Oh forgive me, I never answered your question. I read your case file on my way here, and it is not my place to question the system or how you got here. I am an end of life therapy expert that also doubles as a hangman.”
“But you… you’re so well dressed”
“The president is my cousin and since Nigeria had only one hangman up until last year, so I took this position that suddenly became; how should I say? Lucrative.”
“So you chose this life? Killing people?”
***
This hemp fibre rope binds my hands
But not my mind or my senses
So my mind takes flight
The past
The hopes,
The dreams,
And aspirations of a naïve young man
This black cloth over my head
Cannot darken my heart
In the darkest of nights
The firefly is a beam of light
In the midst of the thorns
The rose blooms
I found love
This stool I am made to climb.
Will not be my downfall
I will rise and rise
On the wind currents of love and hope
I will fly high when soul is set free
If I live or I die
This noose around my neck
Cannot take my life
“STOP!” I had no idea I was holding my breath until that time. I heard sighs of relief all around me. I wasn’t the only one that didn’t want me to die.
“I have the Governor’s letter of amnesty here!” I heard Elizabeth say breathlessly. God bless her heart. Oh dear God, my own Christmas miracle. My heart and my mind took flight. My freedom!
“Can I see the letter please?” Santini said from behind me. He left the noose on my neck then seemed to move toward Elizabeth, who had run unto the platform. I held my breath again. I heard Santini’s shoes come to a halt and I could hear her heavy breathing. “It would seem you’re a free man, Mr. Akinpelu. Please wait for us down there while we set him loose” Santini said, walking towards me.
The sound of his shoes on the wooden platform, was the only sound save for my breathing I could hear. The soundtrack to my freedom. He was almost near me now. And then he tripped. I heard him try to regain balance and traction. And he did. Only it was at my expense. I felt my balance wobble as Santini used the stool under me. He must have realized that his balance would be the death of me I heard a shout from him quite unlike the composed man I had met earlier.
Elizabeth’s screams were the last thing I heard as my broken neck stopped the flow of blood to my brain.
We were born to die anyways.
***
(-__-)
I couldn’t help myself. That’s all I can say.
Just remember this: a good number of Nigerians will be spending Christmas in Prisons all over the country for crimes they did not commit.
Oh yeah, I give to the next writer Rose yellow and white gold charm bracelet.
Merry Christmas everyone!
- @JibolaL
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8-)
Usual Jibola with his beautiful but sad stories ….
Not everyone gets a christmas miracle
Suspected this sad ending from the mention of shoe laces…. Another reality check…. Sad though…
No. He just had to die. *sobs*. Why did he have to die. I was thinking: 'yay!!!!! He's going to leave prison and she will marry him and they will have 2 children and live happily ever after'
"…No no no. Eat away my life ke. Gosh, it’s this hunger that’s making me write rubbish. Let me use something else." Got 2 this point & i knew immediately it wz The Jibster :D Lemme go & finish…:)
This is just sad! He just got hope for life, only to have it snatched away from him by a silly accident.
This post reminds me of a Tenant who was imprisoned for stealing equipments from d ministry of agric. He was innocent.
He went to jail for 3 years.
After his 3 year term, he came back home, and his wife and 3 boys smiled again.
3 months later, he took a bike to go and pick his kids from school, and he had a heart attack and died. No warning whatsoever.
I truly felt sorrow! His family had just got him back, only for him to die like that.
The justice system failed him.
I just pray someday, today, that Nigeria's justice system will improve.
Santini Muerte eh? As always, it's the li'l things bout Jibola's stories that do it 4 me. (y)
& now my '12 days' are, 2 all intents & purposes, over.
Nice!! I loved this, and yes, the ending was obvious but it didn't take the shine off the story…
I love sad stories. I loved the poetry most of all…
Beautiful sad story. @jibolaL is witty tho! What?!
My guy Jibola is a great man indeed. Phew I actually caught myself exclaiming when I read the end. Great story, Great poetry, excellent rendering.
Great job bro
The poetry…the poetry…Good God, such brilliance!
Haha! I saw that one coming. Beautifully written as always Jibz! Brilliant poetry.
I just had to comment. Jibola knows what I'll say. Beautifully written but the overriding sadness of the story though..
*SOB* *SOB* Errrrrr hmmmm do we get to hang the hangman now that he has killed someone????? he has committed murder rite? NO? sigh!!! Nice one tho.
:( :(
Tragic
I just remembered 'the executor's dream'. . .
Jibola Akalamagbo. . .this 'sadness' is ur other 'personality' u were asking about
love love love. My fav 12 days of Christmas post.
I just knew this story could not have a happy ending! I just knew it! Beautiful story tho..shame not everyone will have a happy christmas :(
Nice Jibola. Wasn't expecting less from u niways. I added u on bb pls accept.
nice one @jibolaL. my best 12days of Christmas post so far…
Prose and poetry. Interesting.
I was more interested in how the writer would use the gift passed on by the previous writer – a lawnmower with black ribbons.
The recital of this poem on stage would be something.
"Jibster" muhahahaha…ogbeni Jibola yii ti ya weyrey sha sugbon o daa… Baba, ti é pó! Kparo lò. Tuaile!!!
This was very interesting…you just had to kill the Professor….why evils??
JibolaL loves "tragedies" iSigh :(
Moral of this story- next time I see someone with untied shoe-laces, cause it could lead to my death. I love Jibola(did I just say that?) Well I do sha!
Splendid!!!!
This Ȋ̝̊̅§ cool! Damn made me cry! I remba'd this time eight years ago twas sad xmas4mama was sick……….saw ma friends go abt wit their new cloths eatin xmas rice n all I wished4 was ma ma2be well at 12 I already knew d worth of ma mom! Tragic storY buh really nyce one! The moral Ȋ̝̊̅§ ofcourse4us2be grateful4wat we ave! Pple die everyday4tinz they don't even knw abt………merry xmas. jibola nyce one
Waoh! I love the Poetry. If Professor could interpret his dream he would have known he was going to die,'Mowed into subjection By a lawnmower with black ribbons'
The hang man should be tried for Involuntary Manslaughter,but he is the Presidents Cousin so he has Immunity
Dis was beautiful!!!evrytin bout it wish it didn't have a sad endin tho buh luvly all d same
Great story.
The poems were the best part.
Next time I see a kid with untied shoelaces, Imma bitch slap the little sardine.
Oh! And of course, Jibola weds Dania is a story coming soon…
And Oh! Your story drew me in; I lost myself while reading. Few people do that to me. Cool!
This is too much. You're good, man. The poems, the story…….WOW!!!
This is a beautiful story, and a compelling ending. Great work.
Suggestions though. Spend more time in having d characters tell their own story themselves, then in u doing it 4 dem. Also, I feel the 1st part of d story cld be written. I was just waiting for the story 2 land, cos all dat background info was boring and, I feel, negligible.
Also, u wrote in past tense. 4 a story written 4rm the 1st POV, r we 2 assume it is d man's ghost/soul talking, seeing as he's dead? I feel, either u rewrite this in present tense, or you change the POV.
Over all, great work!
Jibola!u made me cry….did he av to die?( -̩̩̩͡˛ -̩̩̩͡ ) Beautiful,very beautiful..I don't even know what to say….the system in Nigeria is so fucked up!Just keep it up!"A lawnmower with black ribbons" wow!
If anyone else was writing, I'd have expected a happy ending.
Wonderful story. Absolutely.
The poetry in this piece,did it for me….nice touch there,the tragedy….
This is an excellently written sad story. A really, really, sad story. *sobbing*
This was an awesome story, d writer put α lot σf thought into it….ds is d best story ve ever read on ds site…thumbs up dude!!!
Cold…..you could have made him snap an ankle or something mate…..cold……….
Hi everyone! I don't even know what to say. I am very grateful for all the love, kind thoughts and pointers. Thanks guys.
I'm glad y'all enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it.
I truly appreciate it.
I love the poetry .
In my final year in uni, my department went on an excursion to kirikiri, there I met a man, who was awaiting trial for a crime he did not commit, that was in 2010 and he had been awaiting trial for 12yrs, he was cheerful & hopefully on the outside, he was even active in the church, but I am sure deep down he had given up.
i just knew the prof was going to die…….. i liked it.
sad story, and even sadder reality that people die for crimes they didn't commit.
:( But I guess it had to be done…
Jibola, you are amazing.
I never knew there were beautiful writers till I started reading blogs
Well….can't stop thinking abr d hangman, it d story continued am sure he wld go unpunished since he's d president's cousin. Iranu
*sigh* I'm too sad to even say what I should really say. All hail the King of Sad, Prof Jibs.