Taduno's Song

by Odafe Atogun

  ‘Not at all! You have done very well. I appreciate all your efforts.’

  Vulcaniser’s face brightened. ‘We will not stop looking. We will continue to keep our eyes and ears open. If TK is still in the city, somebody will see him or hear something about him eventually.’

  Taduno nodded and thanked him once again.

  They shook hands warmly.

  After Vulcaniser had left, Taduno picked up his guitar, which he had successfully mended. For a while, he simply paced the living room holding the guitar in one hand. Then he played one of his old songs. Although the guitar was as good as it was before, the music refused to come together. He tried for several hours without success. And then, realising that his house was no longer a place where beautiful music could be made, his heart began to beat with fear.

  *

  Aroli was not there to share his fear; he was busy chasing one property deal or the other all over the city. So, feeling somewhat desolate, Taduno left for TBS earlier than usual that day. The place was teeming when he arrived there. For several hours he jostled among the crowd, acknowledging greetings here and there. And then he bumped into Thaddeus, who was panting as if he had just completed a marathon.

  ‘Thank God you are here!’ Thaddeus said, gasping for breath. He pulled Taduno away from the crowd.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Taduno asked anxiously.

  ‘I saw TK. I called out to him but he disappeared into the crowd.’

  ‘When did you see him?’ His mouth was dry.

  ‘About an hour ago. I have been searching through the crowd for him ever since, without luck.’

  ‘Are you sure he is the one you saw?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. Even though he has cut his Afro, I feel certain he is the one I saw.’

  Taduno shook with excitement. He had not mentioned to Thaddeus that TK no longer wore his Afro.

  ‘What did he look like without his Afro?’ he asked.

  ‘He looked forlorn. I cannot describe it – almost as if he was no longer of this world.’

  ‘Why didn’t you stop him?’

  ‘I tried to get to him but my movement was hampered and he disappeared into the crowd. I believe he is running away from something.’

  ‘He is a free man now. He doesn’t have to run!’ There was utter dejection in Taduno’s voice.

  Thaddeus looked lost. He wondered what Taduno meant, but not wanting to ask any questions, he said: ‘Maybe he will sleep at the square tonight.’

  ‘I hope he does. But in the meantime let’s continue to search for him, please.’ Taduno’s voice was urgent.

  They agreed to comb the crowd in opposite directions. And they went about it as swiftly as they could.

  *

  They got back together on an old bench that creaked under their weight. Their search had been fruitless.

  Soon the homeless men started to converge. And then it was time for him to regale them with music.

  ‘I don’t feel like playing tonight,’ he whispered to Thaddeus.

  ‘You cannot let us down!’ Thaddeus whispered back. ‘We look forward to this every night. It is about the only thing we look forward to. It makes sleeping in this square bearable.’

  He sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

  So he played his guitar.

  Because his mind wasn’t settled, he finished earlier than usual. Then he went round with Thaddeus, staring at the faces of his audience one after the other. TK was not among them. They went round a second time, still without any luck.

  ‘But I saw him,’ Thaddeus said.

  Taduno suppressed a sigh of frustration.

  *

  It was a strange night. Even though he rehearsed with the minimum volume, the sound of his music seemed to fill the square.

  He was still playing way past midnight when a car pulled up in the darkness. He heard the screech of tyres. Soon, he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and he could tell that they were the footsteps of a very important man. He continued to play, unconcerned about who the approaching man could be. His music became louder, the sound of snoring dropped a notch – but they continued to combine well in the grand music that resonated in the square.

  And then he heard a voice, and only then did he realise who was now standing before him.

  ‘I see you are working hard to discover your voice.’

  Taduno stopped playing and looked up in surprise at the President. He rose slowly to his feet and looked fearfully around.

  ‘Don’t worry, I came alone,’ the President said.

  ‘Alone?’ Taduno repeated incredulously. ‘You venture out at this time of night alone?’

  ‘Why not? After all, I’m a General. I have fought many wars and I have tasted countless victories. Why should I be afraid to explore my own territory?’

  Taduno swallowed. ‘Do you want to sit down?’ he asked politely.

  ‘No, thank you. I have not come to sit down. I have come to remind you, in case you have forgotten, that you have less than two weeks to go. See, I have kept my own part of the deal so far. I have withdrawn my men from the streets. I have allowed TK to be. But I have yet to see any commitment on your part. So I thought I should come to remind you, in case you have forgotten. It is so easy to forget, you know, so easy to break a promise.’

  ‘As you can see, I’m working hard to regain my voice. But my progress has been slow because I have not been able to find TK. He went into hiding after I was arrested, and no one has seen him since.’

  ‘Well, I could go on TV and announce that I have given him a reprieve. Maybe that would encourage him to come out of hiding,’ the President suggested.

  ‘I don’t think that is a good idea. If you give him a reprieve in a public announcement, and then he comes out to help me make music to praise your government, he would be seen as a sell-out and any music we make will not be well received by the public. Moreover, TK wouldn’t have access to a TV in his present circumstances.’

  The President thought for a moment. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I will leave it to you. Just remember, you have less than two weeks to deliver.’

  ‘Please don’t hurt Lela. I will praise your government with a hit song within two weeks.’

  ‘Well, you know the stakes. But just as a reminder, my men will give you a small dose of hospitality tomorrow. And because I’m a very amenable man, I will send my Negotiator and Mathematician to see you too.’

  ‘Negotiator and Mathematician?’ he asked.

  The President nodded.

  ‘What have your Negotiator and Mathematician got to do with any of this?’

  ‘You will know when they come to see you tomorrow,’ the President replied. ‘As I said, I’m a very amenable man. I like giving options to people.’ He flashed a dark smile. Then he turned swiftly and was soon lost in the night.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The limo picked him up in the morning, not long after he returned home from the square where he had rehearsed all night. The presence of the long car drew the attention of his neighbours. But unlike the last time, they refused to come close. Instead, they watched curiously from afar, sensing that something wasn’t quite right.

  He allowed them to shove him and his guitar into the limo without any struggle. Through the window he saw Aroli hurrying over to see what was amiss. The limo took off in a cloud of dust before Aroli could get to it.

  He sank back in the comfortable leather seat, and then he heard quiet snivelling next to him. He turned to look at his companion, and his heart froze when he discovered it was Judah. For a moment he closed his eyes. And then he drew the boy close to him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Judah. All will be well.’

  Judah continued to cry quietly, frightened that, like his sister, he may not see his home in a very long time. ‘Where are they taking us?’ he sobbed.

  ‘What has the boy got to do with any of this?’ he shouted at the soldiers who stared morosely at him.

  ‘Don’t worry, we won’t keep you fo
r long this time. It is going to be a very brief visit,’ a soldier said.

  ‘A very brief visit indeed!’ he sneered.

  ‘Yes, a very brief visit,’ the soldier said patiently. ‘We are taking the boy along so he will have more stories to share with his friends. We understand he has been doing a lot of storytelling lately about his last experience. Mr President thought it would be a good idea to give the boy something very nice to say about him.’

  ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves dragging a child into a matter that does not concern him.’

  ‘Watch your mouth!’ the soldier snarled.

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or I will break your guitar.’

  *

  They took him to the same underground cell where they kept him last time, while Judah was taken to an unknown destination.

  The soldiers stared at him with hostile eyes, and it soon became clear that they were not afraid of his guitar. They were not the same set of soldiers he encountered last time. His new captors spoke in deep-throated voices, like stoned area boys. He watched helplessly as they took his guitar from him before pushing him into the cold cell. He felt defenceless.

  ‘You see, we are not afraid of you,’ one soldier taunted him.

  He did not respond.

  ‘What can you do now without your guitar?’ another asked. ‘Answer me!’

  He had no answer. He just stared hopelessly at his tormentors.

  ‘Let us know if you need anything,’ the first soldier said. ‘You are lucky, Mr President instructed us to treat you well. But you might not be so lucky next time.’

  He ignored the soldier’s threat. ‘Where is the boy?’ he asked. ‘Don’t do anything to him, please.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the boy. I’m sure he is having fun as we speak. Worry about yourself. Worry about what will happen to you and your girl if Mr President is not happy with you in the end.’

  They left him on the cold floor. They closed the gate with a heavy clank and turned off the single bulb. He closed his eyes to shut out the darkness. He could hear the evil echo of their footsteps in the dark endless corridor.

  *

  He felt completely dejected. The cell grew colder and darker. He was too frightened to attempt to rise from the floor. So he just stayed there in a heap, his eyes fixed on the gate, not knowing what they were planning to do with him this time. He hoped it would not be a repeat of his last experience. Without his guitar it would be unbearable for him. He shivered at the thought of having to stay in that cold cell for days and weeks. And he wondered how Lela had been coping all this time. Given a second chance, he promised himself that he would hasten to praise the regime with a song.

  The light was turned on about an hour later, and a soldier came into the cell with food and water. He accepted the food and water to please his captors.

  ‘We want you to be in very good health,’ the soldier said as he dropped the food and water on the floor of the cell. ‘Eat and drink!’ he commanded.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied and ate quietly.

  The soldier watched him curiously. What sort of moron would make trouble with Mr President? he was thinking. He shook his head in irritation.

  Taduno finished eating and looked up at his captor. ‘Thank you,’ he said, once again.

  ‘Don’t thank me, thank Mr President. Left to me, you will not get anything to eat.’

  ‘Thank Mr President for me,’ he responded.

  ‘Now I understand the sort of moron you are,’ the soldier said with disbelief, as he picked up the dishes. He clanked the gate shut. Then he turned off the light and left.

  *

  Darkness engulfed him once again. He slept and woke and slept again. He thought several days had passed since they brought him to that cell. But in fact, it had been only a matter of hours.

  He had drifted off to sleep again when the bulb came on, blotting out the darkness in the cell. He rubbed his eyes against the light and sat up eagerly on the floor. A moment later, a soldier opened the gate. And then another soldier dragged Lela in.

  She was now a shadow of her former self. She looked disoriented as she stared round the cell, as if she was heavily sedated. Most of her hair had fallen out and her eyes were like black balls in deep holes. He could not believe how badly she had deteriorated since the last time he saw her. He was too shocked to utter a word. He simply stared at her as if she was an apparition conjured in a terrible nightmare. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  He was surprised when Lela focused her eyes upon him and whispered his name. ‘Taduno!’ Her voice was fierce and gentle at the same time.

  Instant hope leapt into his eyes. He scrambled to his feet and ran to her. They embraced silently, and they held on to each other tightly for several moments before a soldier tore them apart.

  ‘We only brought her so that you will see how she is doing. Now we must take her back.’

  ‘Taduno, please help me,’ Lela cried out, stretching her hand towards him.

  A feeling of desperation gripped him. He told himself he must not allow them to take her away again. He saw that the soldiers carried no guns, and the sudden thought occurred to him to break out of jail with Lela. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he charged at the first soldier and got him down with a swift blow to the head. The second soldier came at him. They exchanged a flurry of punches before locking into a vicious wrestling grip. For several moments they struggled and growled like two wild animals. And then a blow to the back of the head, delivered by the first soldier, knocked Taduno to the floor.

  For a while, the soldiers kicked him angrily on the floor, deaf to Lela’s pleas and cry of agony.

  From a dizzy depth of pain, Taduno heard the gate clank. The light went off. And the departing footsteps soon became distant echoes as they took Lela away.

  *

  He sat up in a corner of the cell. Even though his entire body was sore with pain, he did not notice. He felt very angry with himself for his failed attempt at jailbreak. He prayed that they would not punish Lela for his action.

  He waited.

  And then a new set of soldiers with guns and clubs brought in Sergeant Bello. He was the last person Taduno expected them to bring to his cell.

  The Sergeant was badly bruised and battered. He kept groaning in agony. His shirt and trousers hung on him in tatters, as if shredded by a lion. He could barely keep his swollen eyes open, and he had to lean on the soldiers who brought him to remain on his feet.

  ‘Somebody help me!’ Sergeant Bello moaned, groping in the air with both hands. ‘I cannot see!’

  ‘What have you done to him?’ Taduno hissed. ‘He is an innocent man.’ His anger brought back some of his strength, but he knew better this time.

  ‘He is not innocent,’ a soldier replied. ‘He confided in someone that he lent his voice to the murmurings of the people. When we interrogated him, he confessed every state secret he sold to you. So you see, he is not an innocent man. He will be charged with treason in the end. And you know that treason is punishable by death.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ was all Taduno could whisper.

  ‘We want to extract more information from him. The idea is to get him to identify you as the man he sold government secrets to before taking him back for more interrogation. But unfortunately he has lost his sight.’

  Another soldier took over. ‘Since he cannot identify you, we would like you to identify him. Do you know this man?’ he asked.

  Taduno’s anguish was too much for him. He hid his face in his hands on the floor of the cell. He became deaf to all their words. He stayed like that until they closed the gate, turned off the light, and took Sergeant Bello away.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The Negotiator came next, a tall grey man in his late fifties, bent by many years of rigorous negotiations on behalf of an amenable dictator. The man was so grey even his eyebrows were grey, and they stood out stiffly like a trademark that distinguished him from all other species of mankind. Taduno wond
ered what species of human being he was.

  The man came in with a black briefcase. He was smartly dressed in a pinstriped suit and wore rubber-soled shoes that made his approach soundless – the way Negotiators like to walk.

  Two plastic chairs were brought into the cell. The man sat down in one, then he nodded to Taduno to take a seat in the other. He obeyed silently, his mind raw with anguish, his body aching. He looked like a man battered by death itself.

  ‘My name is Professor Black,’ the man introduced himself. ‘I am a negotiator and I’m here to see you on behalf of Mr President. I believe you are already aware of my coming.’

  Taduno nodded indifferently.

  ‘Good. My job is to put Mr President’s options on the table before you. After I have done that, Mr President’s Mathematician will come to help you make what I will call a crucial mathematical decision. Then I will come back to help you and Mr President reach a mutually beneficial agreement. I hope I have made myself clear?’

  ‘Not exactly. But please go ahead. I’m listening.’

  ‘Very good!’ Professor Black clapped his hands with satisfaction. He opened his briefcase, brought out several sheets of paper and made a big deal of going through them, adjusting his glasses precariously on the edge of his nose. Minutes later, he looked up from the papers in his hand, took off his glasses and fixed a soft gaze upon Taduno. ‘Mr President wants to make you an offer,’ he said.

  ‘An offer? Why does he want to make me an offer?’

  ‘Because he is a very amenable man. In fact, he wants to be your friend. He likes you a lot and thinks you are a very intelligent man. If you ask me, I would say he is a very loyal friend.’

  Taduno sighed. He could tell that Professor Black was a very seasoned negotiator indeed, his grey personality a testimony to how well he had done over the years. He shook his head. ‘I still do not understand why he wants to make me an offer. And what offer does he want to make me? Even if he makes me an offer, he is known to be a man who never keeps his word.’

  ‘Look, this time he will keep his word. I will spell it out for you. He is prepared to make you the richest musician alive.’