Raw Deal

(photo taken from google.co.ke)

(www.irinnews.org)

Life is always unpredictable, you never know what will happen next. A storm, a breeze, sunshine, rain, blizzard or hailstones. We are all a part of the unknown. You never know what tomorrow will have and reaching tomorrow is never a guarantee.

Jaymo walked down the rundown neighborhood whistling. He jumped over muddy potholes and sewage furrows, until he came up the murram road leading home. Today was a good day. He had just successfully finished registering for his graduation from the local college and he was excited that he was now going to the world educated, empowered and ready for the next stage.

He passed through Washy estate as a short cut. He had never done this before. He had heard rumors that this was the murder capital city of the county and a lot happened in these streets. Every single crime imaginable you could always find it at Washy Estate. His gut told him to stop, turn back and use the long way around, but he was too happy to care. He was oblivious of the sets of gangs holding standing on corners ready to make a quick shilling in the tough world, the hoes standing completely nude waiting for clients, as their pimps watched, the smell of 20 different drugs being huffed and puffed in broad daylight; used and bloody needles on the street and the smell of rotting flesh.

As he passed by one of the houses a mature lady probably her 40s or 50s  called out to him to assist her carry a huge bag to her car. He hesitated, but when she insisted he was drawn because “he was a kind enough fellow and she didn’t look that bad.”

He carried the bags as hard as he could sweating in the evening sun. When he was going to carry the last bag he heard commotion at the gate of the house. He was confused and unable to run, that is when the police showed up and asked him to surrender. He felt a cold chill down his spine.

“Kijana weka mikono juu. Wewe ndio unauuza bangi? Eh?” He was given a hard slap and he fell to the ground.

“Apana afande, nina msaidai mama kuweka vitu zake kwa gari”

“Ooh. Hebu fungua hiyo bag. Hii ni nini, unga?”

Jaymo was speechless. He had no idea what it was. However, since it was Washy Estate, what else could it be if not heroine? He was pushed into the waiting land cruiser, the lady beside him smiling.

“Boss, we ni mjinga kiasi gani kutembea Washy Estate bila mpango. We ni duanzi nini? Karibu life. Watu kwa jela wanapenda fresh meat.”

He was still shocked and unable to load what was going on. He wanted to cry, but looking at the villains and hooligans stuffed in the car with him, he could hardly breathe. It was then that he remembered his mother who would be embarrassed as the mother of the drug dealer; His father, who was a drunkard and barely paid his college school fee, was going to gloat at how he had told his mother numerous times her son was a criminal; his little sister who looked up to him, his friends, his relatives, his teachers.

The land cruiser continued its rounds collecting criminals who could not pay for ‘chai’ or were unknown to the police. It seemed the goal was to fill the car until there was no more room.

When it was done it left Washy Estate and passed through a rocky road which threw everyone in the air and landed on the cold steel of the back of the land cruiser. Jaymo got injured and started nose bleeding. All he could do was hold his nose and pray he would not die of Anemia.

Most of the crooks just laughed and made jokes. This was their life. It was something they had gotten used to. Those in gangs knew they would be bailed out, prostitutes knew they only needed to give a quickie or have a gangbang and they were off, while others prepared to call their rich relatives to release them, other were accustomed to prison cells so they were happy to go and see their friends again.

The land cruiser drove for hours. Some criminals began feeling suspicious. The closest police station was 30 minutes away. They expressed their concerns to one of the police officer who turned and smirked.

It was dark and wherever they were driving had no street lights or cars passing through.

That is when some of the crooks began wailing

“Wooooooiiiiii, tumekufa”

“Ngai, kwa nini? Afande tafadhali, sitarudia”

“Mungu wangu tusaidie, woii, tumekufa,”

“Nyamazenia ama tuanze saa hii”

There came an eerie silence.

“Kijana pole. Sikuatka uuliwe.” The mature lady apologized to Jaymo who was still confused about the whole matter.

The car pulled over and the cops started asking them to come down one by one. Some tried taking to their heels but were immediately returned with kicks, blows, punches and the threat of shots being fired in the air. They were all lead into a house and stripped to their underwear. They were washed with cold water and dusted with white powder. And put in different rooms, men on one side, women on the other and the lights were turned off.

Jaymo found himself in the middle of some of the toughest and wildest criminals he had ever seen. He was afraid that if he slept someone would try something fishy. It was not all quiet, nearly everyone was sobbing, wailing and praying for miracle.

It was then that Jaymo remembered the stories his cousin told him, of how cops arrested people who never made it to the cell but were “killed” in a foiled attempted robbery or gunfight gone wrong. He felt a cold icy feeling sprawling down his neck.

Morning and Jaymo was shaking. He was scared and moreover he was half naked. Most of the other ‘prisoners had come closer to keep warm.

The door creaked open and a hefty gentleman entered accompanied by two police officers, who were armed.

“Welcome my slaves. Your new life has just began. Some of you will go as long as India, others will be lucky if you get sold here, others will have the privilege of working for me. But, that is not my problem, my problem is that you are now mine to do with whatever I want to. Kila mtu afanye kazi vizuri otherwise, my friends watawapea retirement benefits. Sawa?”

They stuttered to mutter, but there came a loud “ndio” when one of the officers raised his gun and cocked it