Adamu always felt encapsulated by the four corners of his bathroom. Even now he stepped inside, he felt trapped.
While his hands traveled his body, he threw his imagination how far it could go on how enormous his master's bathroom might be; the fancy ceramic bathtub sitting at the edge of the room, with different lotions neatly arranged on it.
However, his master didn't look like one who cared about his thick dark skin or the little bumps that appeared behind his head. His mistress on the other hand, had a finessed skin. She was like an over riped mango; she didn't color like he did or the master, at that, but she spoke fluent Hausa. Although one would instantly notice she wasn't from there.
When he was done bathing, he made to leave but retraced his steps and grabbed his toothbrush. He gazed at the clock hanging above his door; it was just five thirty am. There was enough time. He thought. He grabbed his school bag, brought out his book and leafed through it. He fell to reading a page he came to; pronouncing the words like Mrs. Bello had taught him.
His master had asked him that wet evening when the heavens wept heavily. "Adamu do you want to go to school?" Adamu's father had always talked about that place called school, and he was more than happy accepting the offer.
Adamu was enrolled in school the following week. His size drew parental attention; most parents had asked to switch their children's position. "I don't want my daughter sitting near that boy." A mother had complained. It was rational. Picturing some one of that size around your little daughter in class would be every mother's nightmare.
Adamu on the other hand couldn't understand most of what the parents or teachers said. He always had his lips torn in a friendly smile.
Some children like Sabo got along with him, while others kept their distance. However, time controls all things, and as it ticked down, his mental capacity grew up. Now he could say things like,
"Thanks you sir for...foo." He paused, bringing the piece of paper closer to his eyes. "Helin, helpi.."
"Helping?" His master threw in a wise guess.
"Yes, helping me." He looked up and smiled.
His pronunciations were poor, but his master patted his back and said, "I can see you are improving," then changed his gaze to his wife, Adamu's mistress, and said, "He is a fast learner."
His mistress smiled then motion to give Adamu his lunch box. "I added extra tofu." She spoke in fluent Hausa.
Adamu would then walk the concrete wounded path to the bus station and wait for the bus to arrive. Only if he knew today was different.
"Adamu, how are you." Musa, the driver asked as Adamu ascended the brief stairs into the bus.
"I am fine sah(sir)"
He had his friendly smiled glued to his face. He high-fived Sabo before making his way to the back pew where he sat alone. He placed his bag by his side and brought out his book to study.
For seven minute he tried pronouncing the word his master had corrected him earlier. As soon as he shaped his mouth right to emaciate the word, the unwilling press on the break pad made him jerk forward, but he supported himself with the sit in front.
He giraffed his neck and a nervous quiver ran through his body when he saw a man with an AK47 aiming straight at the driver.
"Come down!" The man yelled in Hausa.
It took at least one whole minute and several gunshots to the air before the bus clicked open. The slide-door roared open and a man with an AK stepped in, making the children shrink into their sit.
Without hesitation the man sent his first projectile to the driver and with an unconscious bow the driver placed his head on the steering wheel. Dead.
Adamu's forehead began to perspirate. The driver's door was open and he was thrown out.
Just as Mrs. Bello had taught, he counted the men. One...two...three, Silently. The bus went into motion again and when Adamu protruded his head, his gaze locked with one of the men. The man staring at him-like the other men-had his face wrapped in a scarf, leaving just his eyes, which was blood shot and conveyed only death.
Alarmed at seeing Adamu, the man charged Adamu-who now shielded his face with his palm-and knocked the lights out of him.
With a throbbing headache, itchy face, and midnight vision Adamu was conscious.
The strong tang of wet grass clouded his nose, and he could feel the tickling steps of insects explore his body. He felt the squeezing bond of ropes around his wrist and ankle.
Where am i?
He let his mind rake his memory...he was on his way to school then...and slowly it started coming to him.
The memory of the projectile cutting its way to the driver, and the somewhat confident and ruthless men that gained entrance to the school bus made him quiver.
He remembered most of what the men said before the lights was knocked off him. And they talked about freeing some kids.
"They are too much!" One of the men had debated back at the bus in fluent Hausa.
"No! We take all. Our message has to clear!"
"The missing ones would be the message."
It was a total blackout after that. Now the grimy hood over his head blocked every light out and he couldn't tell the time of the day.
With his regained senses, he became aware of the little children around him and their outpour. He couldn't understand most of what the children said which was more of cries than words. Then he grabbed 'hungry' from the words flying past his ears. Food. He was hungry.
Suddenly, the itchy hood was yanked off his head and his sight was blinded by the light coming from the bulb hanging from a bamboo stick with its wire traced into the bushes.
The man motioned down and cut the ropes around Adamu's wrist and legs. Adamu had thought he was in a field, but the tall trees stood like afro around them. He brushed his gaze on the children and they all had grimy hood over their head.
"Stand up!" The man yelled.
Adamu hesitated for a moment trying to decipher the language.
"Stand up fool!" the man involuntary yelled in Hausa.
Adamu sprung up. "Move!" the man said accompanied with a quack that made Adamu stagger forward. The man led Adamu through a narrow part to a squarely cleared area. Four bamboos standing like pillars hung a red trampoline that sank in the middle-probably from accommodating rain. Three similar face-wrapped men stood under the trampoline. "Move!" the man behind him pushed again.
ICT equipment sat on a table with their snaky wires tangling among each other. "Sit!" the man pressed Adamu's shoulder down. Some wires traced to a video recorder, which Adamu now sat across.
The man walking towards Adamu had a red scarf around his face. He held Adamu's shoulder and buried his fingers into his skin. He motioned down, handed him a piece of paper and said,
"You would read to the camera." He is pointing to it. The only word Adamu grabbed was, read. He craned and tried to pronounce the word quietly. In English, the red scarf man inquired, "Ready?" not looking at Adamu but the ICT man at the corner.
"Almost," the man punching the keyboard of a laptop said with a finger up. "Onee seconddd...we are online."
"Good." The man said under his breath. "Now read!" His fingers still buried in Adamu's shoulders while his other hand pointed to the camera. But Adamu stared dumbly at the piece in his hands.
"Read!" the man yelled in English then continued in Hausa. "Abi, you want to die?" his fingers etched deeper in Adamu's shoulder.
"Please don't kill me, please!"
Adamu tensed up.
"Don't look at me, look at the camera!"
"I am not sure he can read." The man behind the laptop observed.
"Are we on air?" Red scarf enquired.
"Yes!"
"Shit! cut...Cut it!"
Adamu watched as the red scarf man charged at the man who quacked him all the way, squeezing tight on his neck.
"Why would you bring someone that can't read?!"
"He was dressed in a uniform like the others! I wouldn't have guessed that... Look at him," everybody's gazed fell on Adamu. "He looks nineteen!" Adamu craned; embarrassed. He knew they asked him to read and he was sad he couldn't. Fear clipped his tongue.
The red scarf man let go and huffed loudly before saying, "Nnamdi go and feed the children. Opera, David and..." he fanned out orders but the ICT guy interrupted.
"Sir the video is already causing traffic on the internet!"
"What?!" the red scarf man exclaimed taking long strides to the ICT table. Bending over the ICT guy's shoulder, he caused. "Take it down!"
"I have, but it was streamed on a popular media page...people already saved it."
The man that was called Nnamdi-the same one that led Adamu here-tugged at his arm and led him back to the squarely cleared area where the other children stayed. Nnamdi pushed him to the ground and tied his wrist and ankle tighter than before. Adamu brushed his gaze for Sabo before the grimy hood roughly swallowed his head.
The sides of Adamu's stomach gripped with hunger. He couldn't even squeeze on his stomach if he wanted to. After a long four minutes that felt like a prison sentence, a sharp aroma pierced his nose, transported by the cool air that made the trees cheer.
"Iheanacho said not to feed this one." A hoarse voice said.
While the children ate with their mouth, Adamu ate with his nose; deeply inhaling the aroma around him.
The cheering trees got louder and Adamu jolted when the first drop of rain touched his body. It was different from the tickling steps of insects exploring his body. It was eerily cold. Another drop hit his skin.
"Brothers!" Adamu cried out. There was no response. The needling drops of rain increased it's pressure, pelting through and eating the soil-he could feel it. The children let out loud screams but most of it was covered by the loud rustling sound of trees and the heavy drops of rain.
What am I doing here? Kill me? He even knew the word in English.
He lets his mind rake back to the piece of paper he held some forty minutes ago. He was familiar with so many words but fear had clipped his tongue.
The rain stopped as fast as it started, but the rustling trees above sent down little droplets from time to time.
The squarely cleared area where the children were kept took the form of mud. The aroma had cleared out and the smell of wet leaves clouded Adamu's nose once more. Numerous incest crawled all over the children's body and what Adamu guessed to be a spider crawled into his hood. "Brothers!" Adamu yelled again but the only response he got was the cries from the children.
Trying to be calm, he let his mind rake seven years back, when his father stood over an ironing board, carefully sailing his iron on fabric.
"Adamu what is the time?" his father asked.
Adamu motioned to his father's pocket watch, a gift from his father's master.
"Three, six."Adamu said in Hausa.
"Let me see that." His father reached for the watch. He looked at it for another ten seconds before saying, "Come," His father gestured, and then leveled the watch at his stomach. "This short..."
The door squeaked and his father's master-who his father also said was his master-materialized. His father jolted. "Master."
"Are the clothes ready?" his master's voice was as calm as a flowing stream.
"Almost sir."
"Almost?" One could see disgust etch in the lines on his fat black face. "What is the time?"
Adamu watched his father gaze at the watch again although he didn't understand what they said.
"Fifteen past six." His father said after seconds of studying the watch.
His master sighed, "Bring them in as soon as possible."
Now Adamu is in primary five and he understands the full mechanism of the clock. So he guessed it was at least seven o'clock. Because when the hood was yanked off his head the sky had a yellowish-red color: means the sun was dying, but the thick bushes around them made it look dark.
A stinging bite made Adamu shiver and his mind's eye once again pictured his location.
"Brothers!" Adamu yelled again.
Just right after, footsteps squashed into the mud. Adamu's hair stood on ends. The footsteps came closer and his heart slammed harder. "Brothers?" his voice was low and laced with fear now.
"Tarh...who is your brother? So you don't want us to rest, abi?" it was the same voice that instructed not to give him food.
"Please...I am...sor..sorry" Adamu stammered in English.
"Go and beg your government to leave our lands alone."
Adamu kept quiet. Suddenly the man grabbed his wrist. There was no use being resistant so Adamu let go. He wasn't expecting the sharp pain of the needle that pierced his skin or the icy feel of whatever that was pumped into his veins. Later he would feel the waves expanding in his head, but for now, he noticed that he couldn't feel the stinging bites of ants or hear the worries the children effused. It all faded away. With an unconscious blink, his eyes shuttered and gradually his lids slid closed.
Adamu eyes flew open but fell into a squint; blinded by the rush of light from above. The smell of iodoform filled his nose. Distant chattering became audible, "He needs rest from stressful activities...even school." Adamu blinked incessantly, gradually registering his surroundings and with a blurry vision he saw the pure white ceiling. And when he southern his gaze he saw his master and mistress talking to a woman clad in white coat. "He is awake." His mistress informed pointing to him.
"Adamu how are you?" The white-clad woman walked to him then motioned to place a stethoscope on his chest.
"Fine." Adamu barely uttered. He brushed his gaze around the vast hall dotted with beds and dozens of Soldiers armed to their teeth, padding around the hall. He was glad to see Sabo and the well-wishers around him, he was glad he wasn't hearing the rustling sound of tress or the stinging feel of bites. He was glad when a nurse motioned, "Here," She handed him a cup of water. His shoulders ached as he motioned his arm. He gulped the water at once then the sound from the TV drew his attention. Looking over the rim of the cup, his gaze caught a motion picture of him looking down at a piece of paper.
"You are safe now...you are safe," his master motioned and tapped his back. "This is a new day, you are safe."
*
End
Did you like this story?
Thank you so much for reading...
Proceed to the next story!