Title:- HELL ON EARTH

Jango leaned against the squalid wall, with its Fetor smell sticking to his new costume. The voice behind him was no longer panicking. Jango was blind. Not because he was blind, but the tunnel had made him blind. He was blind, but can still sight the light at the end of the tunnel. Light after a tunnel? Everyone would jump in, like it was a swimming pool, or maybe pool of Bethesda. But this was a different ball game and his legs wouldn't move. Why would he even try? Who would with his full sense of reasoning move into hell? That's why we would pray everyday, trying to be pure, maybe to be wrong candidates for hell. Mother would pray, with father giving a backing "Amen". We don't want to be candidates of the threat. Hell. Recorded in the bible.
The last time Amaka his little sister incautiously allowed a burning candle slip through her hands to the floor, he felt it's effect, not from the light, but from it's wax. It wasn't hot, it burns. He could imagine, if wax can burn, then the threat from the bible. That hell. What would its effect be? Burn? No not burn. Something much corrosive than burn. No word can explain.
Now would he intentionally move to the end of that tunnel, bright calling tunnel. Hell of a tunnel. Jango stood close to five minutes without a move. No! It means death. He never tried, not until a man came, a man with a masked face. How did he see Jango no one could tell. Maybe he was a human bat, who can see when everyone is blind. He had pushed Jango not to the end of the tunnel, but into a room connected to the tunnel.
The door forced open, and Jango thrown in like a luggage. It was little bright. Little brighter than the tunnel, but couldn't find anyone even though voices were crawling around.
It was a little rest, Jango found a little peace. But can one find peace in hell? No. Hell don't give peace, only the reverse. Jango was drown in thought. It was a little rest with his eyes closed, before a voice came calling.
"Who be you?"
It was a question from a deep voice. Jango got stuck in confusion. Would he answer the question first, or imagine the wrath from such voice. He opened his eyes but seeing no one. It was night blindness. Just now he thought the floor beneath his leg to quake, the floor became more solid. The particles of fear in the atmosphere was tense. Jango cried out
"I did not. I did n-"
"Shut up!" He was interrupted.
Little of fear had left Jango when he can now see the man behind the voice. Fierce looking man, sitting on the floor, with guards around him.
Could he be the devil? Jango imagined, looking at his bruised face...
"Oga, Who are you?"
The voice came asking again, with Jango wearing a frenzy look, before the voice came again, but this Time with Much re-enforcement.

"I said who are you!"
It sounded loudly, and the echo heard from the wall
"Jango, my name is Jango" he never knew when he answered, the words took him unexpectedly, maybe fear also grip them. Words not loyal.
Jango broke himself to the ground. He wept.
It was on a Sunday, he had just returned from Sunday service. Sometimes teaching can be prophetic, and revelations embedded in them.
Jango never knew the preacher had preached directly to him. Though the topic - AGENTS OF HELL got everybody. As they nod randomly whenever the preacher calls the devil. Jango never knew that Sunday was for him.
He had brought out some clothes to dry on the empty ropes tied for clothes outside, only to find out after ten minutes, he can only find Madam Iyabo's clothes, his clothes had gone hiding. He had moved towards the rope only to find his wet clothes hipped at one corner of the rope. His blood boiled. This same troublesome Iyabo? He imagined. Not reminding himself of the Sunday teaching.
Devil is truly on the side of Iyabo. Jango had prepared a battlefield. But here she is with her husband, as they walk majestically. Not having Jango noticed. He almost left her, but the devil in him spoke. That same devil.
"lyabo, you removed my clothes? I'll deal with you".
He said pointing to her face.
That was all he did. It was a threat. An empty one. But people's hands had already pointed at him, just like he pointed at Iyabo. She had told her husband of going to the market, but never returned.
"I did not do it!"
"I did not do it"
"I did not kidnap her" he said shouting to himself. Not knowing he was. But it had saved him. It did, who knows, as the door got opened.
"Jango come out" the officer said. Led him to a room to change into his clothes before moving to the counter.
The pasted "BAIL IS FREE" poster posted to the wall got his eyes. He resisted it quickly, like binding the devil. Bail can never be free in Nigeria. He knew it. So he turned his face to the other side of the wall just to find something more offensive. "THE POLICE IS YOUR FRIEND" posted on the wall. " the police my friend?" He imagined. A friend that'll push one into hell, to dine with the devil.
It was crazy, he thought before seeing his mum push a huge sum of money into the hand of the police officer standing. He never knew why. But the police officer told his mum and Iyabo's husband, they can now take Jango.
Madam Iyabo was back, she never was lost or kidnapped. She had decided to meet a friend, and had spent the night over there without duly informing her husband. It was a wrong accusation. The lawyer would call it a beautiful name "false imprisonment". Mrs Iyabo was back. But who was to be blamed? The neighbours? Iyabo's husband? Jango? Or his threat?.
Jango was now out. His soul rejoiced on seeing light once again. He could be dreaming. It was when he moved down from the little stairs, he was convinced it was reality. Only then he realised "The Nigeria police cell is not a place to wish for even an enemy".

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© 2017 Richard Sylvanus Tamunobere
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