Satans and Shaitans

by Obinna Udenwe

  ‘Your daughter will do the Brotherhood the honour. I hope you understand?’ the voice asked heavily and the line was silent. The voice was never questioned nor argued with when it made such demands.

  Chuba felt his chest tighten. He looked up and almost let out a cry – he did not recognize the terrified man who looked back at him from the mirror opposite the bed. It soon became blurred just as he noticed the stinging in his eyes. Adeline? But why? He had never even considered it might be her, he did not understand.

  ‘Peace… and love!’ the voice concluded. ‘May angels guide you. And may evil not swallow you.’ And with that, the line went dead.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Saturday, April 17th 2010

  Alhaji Abu Rabiu Mukhtar’s convoy travelled from Abuja to Jigawa. As they approached Dutse, they were flagged down by mobile police officers who had laid a blockade on the road. The Alhaji wondered if the policemen were blind not to notice his convoy. He was a very wealthy man and his compound in Dutse was three times larger than a football pitch. It sheltered hundreds of Almajiri and was where almost the whole community came for their lunch every day. With the lift of a finger, thousands of people were ready to kill in his name.

  It was a four-vehicle convoy. He was in a Rolls-Royce. The first vehicle was a Toyota Hilux, filled with armed policemen. The second was a Prado jeep carrying two of his friends and some of his aides. The vehicle behind the Rolls-Royce was a BMW, occupied by two aides and two armed policemen. The police officers who had blocked the road spoke to the man driving the Hilux and removed the blockade. It passed and gained speed, followed by the jeep, and then the blockade was closed again. The Rolls-Royce hit the blockade as the policemen opened fire on it and on the BMW, which collided with the back of the Alhaji’s car. More men appeared from the nearby bush and began to fire at the Hilux and the jeep.

  Through the window they shot the driver of the Rolls-Royce. They shot the two policemen in the BMW and dragged out the men in the back of the Rolls-Royce. They were bleeding.

  ‘Alhaji Mukhtar!’ one of them called. The Alhaji was wounded in the shoulder. He was numb. Other approaching vehicles were turning back swiftly and colliding with each other. Some of the assassins were still engaged in a shootout with the policemen in the Hilux.

  ‘Alhaji Mukhtar! This is for Umar Hassan!’ the assassin shouted, and fired four times into the man’s head. Alhaji Mukhtar’s skull shattered and his brain mixed with flesh and blood and splattered all over the highly polished Rolls-Royce. The assassins ran into the bush and disappeared. In all, three men survived, including the aide, who had heard the assassin’s words.

  Professor Saturday Effiong was reclining on a cane-chair in the evening, the day after the death of Alhaji Mukhtar. He had just returned from work at the University of Calabar Teaching Hospital, and was sipping a glass of orange juice, reading the papers, when he saw two men stroll down the alley and approach the front of his massive duplex.

  His chained dog noticed the men and began to bark roughly. He dropped the newspaper on a chair and sat up.

  ‘Good evening, Sir.’

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he responded. ‘How may I help you?’

  One of the men noticed his pockmarked face; it matched their target. The taller one said, ‘We are friends of Alhaji Umar Hassan.’ Professor Effiong made to stand and when the man drew out his silenced pistol the Professor’s eyes widened.

  ‘Alhaji Umar sends his best regards.’ And the bullet hit the Professor’s forehead once. It opened like a door, admitting the bullet. He fell backwards and his legs were thrown up and landed with a thud. A yelp of agony escaped his mouth before he died.

  The Professor’s security guard, who doubled as the gateman and who had admitted the men, convinced that they were doctors, saw what happened. He drew out his gun but one of the men was already running towards him, so he shot at the assailant twice but missed. The assailant dodged beside a hedge and they began to exchange fire. Another bodyguard ran out from the quarters, carrying an AK-47, but the tall assailant – Malik Hassan – was already close by, and before the bodyguard could fire a shot, he was gunned down. The gateman withdrew behind the building close to the gate. The two assailants ran towards the gate, expecting him to shoot but he didn’t, so they opened it and were free.

  Adeline’s hand trembled as she dialled Donaldo’s number. As the line was ringing she wondered what she was going to say – the news she had to deliver was very important.

  ‘Hi, Donaldo. Can I see you straight away?’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘There is big trouble, Donaldo… can I see you now?’

  Donaldo’s heart fell inside his stomach; he had never heard her sound so worried. ‘How will you get out? Aren’t your parents around?’

  ‘No. Please!’

  ‘All right,’ he agreed.

  Donaldo picked her up from her gate and drove her to his hut on the Island. It was still sunny that evening and there was no breeze. The grasses refused to swirl in different directions. The dried leaves on the ground did not drift into the air. It was as if the asha birds in the treetops caused everything to stay calm. Even the tiny insects were quiet.

  Donaldo made her sit down on one of the stones outside the hut. She was nervous. He was worried, as he had not been able to see her since his proposal and feared what his father might have done – there had been a big fight that night after the Chubas had left. His father knew something had happened, and had only promised to ‘take care of it’.

  ‘Donaldo, I am finished.’

  ‘Adeline, you are killing me with suspense. Tell me. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Donaldo…’ She stood up, but her legs buckled. He caught her before she fell and she sat down again. He was holding her tightly.

  ‘Adeline!’

  ‘I… I… I have not had my period,’ she told him.

  She wept. He was confused.

  ‘Okay, but what do you mean?’

  She stared at his face, at the silence in his eyes.

  ‘I am pregnant, Donaldo.’

  ‘Jesus!’ he exclaimed. He moved away from her and sat on a stool. His mind began to revolve around his life. Donaldo remembered the death of his mother, her unborn child. He remembered his father’s brutality. He remembered Madam Vero, her soft and calm words. His brain stopped working. He was in another realm.

  ‘Donaldo!’ He startled. ‘I am sorry.’ She was crying. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know, please… I am confused,’ he finally said. Tears were in his eyes. Beads of sweat dropped from his jaw to his chest. She stood and came to him.

  ‘Do you love me, Donaldo?’

  ‘You know the answer.’

  ‘Then marry me, Donaldo, marry me now.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We are already engaged, we can just marry sooner.’

  ‘It’s impossible for now, you know that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My father.’

  ‘I will call my father… no… no, I will call my mum and tell her. They will talk to him.’

  ‘No!’ They were quiet again. ‘Wait, please, tell no one. Just wait for a while.’

  ‘My dad will kill me.’

  ‘Don’t worry. He will not.’ He hugged her tenderly and their lips met. And he began to kiss her, gently first, then more urgently. Perhaps, if they stayed like this, just kissing, the pregnancy would disappear, the nightmare might just vanish.

  Adeline did not want to tell anybody, not even Miss Spencer. She withdrew from everyone. She did not talk with Miss Spencer or with the maids, she went to bed earlier than usual, and she cried quietly and secretly. She called Donaldo and he said he was still thinking – he sounded harassed and the fear that had begun to ravage her increased. She knew she had to do something, and Miss Spencer was the only person she could trust.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Saturday, 24th April 2010

  In a large sitting room in a mansion in the
centre of the ancient city of Kano, six men were sitting on very soft leather cushions. Outside, people were going about their business. At the gate, a man was working in a small kiosk, where he traded in snacks, cooking spices and stationery. Inside the house, the men were silent, each pondering the latest development.

  Abouzeid broke the silence. ‘That operation was carried out by professionals. That is all I can tell you. Based on the description I know the man who led it. I trained him in Chad, and I have received confirmation that he is in Nigeria.’

  ‘How good is he, Abouzeid?’ Sheikh Kabiru Ibrahim asked.

  ‘If I trained him, it means he is good. In fact, he was one of the best people I ever trained. Mia is a very ruthless boy. Very ruthless. That is bad. Very bad. May Allah guide everyone!’ Abouzeid shook his head several times.

  ‘Two people now. Alhaji Mukhtar and Professor Saturday Effiong. What is their plan? To wipe us out?’

  ‘My contact said that Malik Hassan’s plan is to punish us in revenge for his brother, then start up another group. He is recruiting.’ Abouzeid lowered his voice. ‘He has mentioned Sheikh Mohammed Seko to the Department of State Security. How he did it I do not know.’

  ‘I know. I know. The day State Security got the information, we were informed. We have men there. That is not a problem—’

  ‘There is a bigger problem, though,’ Abouzeid cut in, ‘they want to assassinate the Sheikh.’

  ‘Are you sure of this? Kajiko, did you hear me?’ Sheikh Kabiru Ibrahim was noticeably disturbed.

  ‘Ustaz, would I lie to you?’

  ‘Do we have a solution?’ another man spoke up. He had been quiet until now. It was Dr Bode Clark.

  ‘By Allah’s help, we do,’ Abouzeid said.

  ‘And what is it?’ the Sheikh asked.

  ‘Tell the Government to block the Nigeria–Chad border. But not before I have travelled to Chad. We will hold Mia and his men in Nigeria. Invade their camp and bomb it. Then they will scatter and in that confusion, I will contact him from Chad.’ The men in the room stared at the young man.

  ‘Why contact him from Chad?’ Dr Clark asked, cleaning his glasses with his sleeve.

  ‘Because I will be holding his family hostage. He has a young wife waiting for him at home.’ Donaldo was at the dining table. Since the day Adeline had told him her news, the only time Madam Vero saw him was when he came down to eat. He’d stopped going to his hut or even sitting in the living room.

  ‘Ma? If I do anything stupid… what do you think Chief would do?’

  Madam Vero was surprised. ‘Disown you, maybe, I don’t know; your father is mean. But it all depends on the degree of stupidity. If it is bad enough, your father is capable of anything.’ She looked at him and noticed the seriousness in his face. He played with the pounded yam and avoided her eyes. ‘Why do you ask, Donaldo?’ she added quickly.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He loves you, Donaldo, inugo? You hear?’ She wore an Ankara blouse and her hair was plaited and tied with a rubber band, but some tufts of grey hair still sprouted out.

  He washed his hands and headed for his room, closed the door behind him and stripped. He walked to the bathroom and filled the tub. When it was full he submerged himself in the water. Madam Vero had never lied to him before, and she was right. His father was capable of anything. He would kill him. If he destroyed the Amechi name, he was in deep trouble. He willed his brain to think faster.

  At the Chubas’ house, alone in Miss Spencer’s room, Adeline made Miss Spencer swear never to tell anyone about her love affair with Donaldo.

  ‘Do you love me?’ Adeline asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Miss Spencer answered, surprised.

  ‘And my happiness is your utmost concern?’

  ‘Yes, my dear.’

  ‘Then swear in the name of the Blessed Virgin Mary that you’ll never tell anyone, and that you’ll ensure that the staff will not tell anyone, no matter what. Unless I ask you to do otherwise.’

  ‘I don’t know why you are saying all this. Come here. Sit down.’

  ‘No. Do you swear?’

  Miss Spencer was worried. ‘Okay… I swear.’

  ‘Even if I die?’

  Miss Spencer was shocked by the statement. She knew Adeline very well, so something must be wrong.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she laughed nervously, locking and unlocking her hands in her agitation, ‘but you are not going to die, petite Adeline. What is wrong with you, why all this? Are you sick, my dear?’

  ‘No… but if you want my happiness, you must tell no one.’

  Miss Spencer was uncomfortable. What could be the problem? Adeline had been acting strange and she was losing weight. If taking the oath would make her happy, Miss Spencer was ready to do it. She had always prayed in her room every night for God to grant Adeline peace of mind.

  ‘Oh! So, you are afraid one of us would reveal your little secret to your parents. No, Adeline! How could we?’ Adeline just stared at her. ‘But will you cheer up and be happy if I do as you request?’

  ‘Yes… please.’ Adeline’s eyes were blinking.

  ‘I swear… if that will make my angel happy.’ She touched the holy statue to seal the oath. She saw new light appear in Adeline’s eyes and hugged her.

  When Donaldo told Adeline what he was thinking, she cried. God had not answered the prayers she had made every night and all the rosaries she had offered to the Blessed Virgin.

  ‘Donaldo, please.’ But he said nothing. He was afraid of what he had suggested – abortion was a grave act – but he was more afraid of his father. Even if his father did not kill him, he would lose everything, including his home on the Island. He would also lose his chance to become a renowned painter. He was afraid of Evangelist Chuba too. He hated himself for his cowardice.

  ‘This baby,’ she touched her stomach, ‘is the result of the unquenchable love I have for you, Donaldo.’

  ‘But it must not get in the way of our future, Adeline.’

  ‘What future, Donaldo? What future is brighter than our own child? She will be beautiful—’

  ‘She?’

  ‘Yes. I saw her in my dreams. I call her Menora. You gave her the name in my dream. She was in the hut with us. You held her—’

  ‘Stop it, Adeline! You are driving me mad.’

  She began to cry again and he went to her and held her, stroking her back.

  ‘I am sorry. You are right, how could I have suggested such a thing?’

  She looked up, hopeful. ‘I will not abort my baby, Donaldo. I am ready to face anything. Besides, abortion is evil, a crime, it is murder. I can’t do that, please. I will go to hell.’

  ‘Hush, don’t worry. We’ll work something out.’ Donaldo held her and soothed her, but he knew deep in his heart that the baby could not be born while Chief Donald Amechi lived.

  And if an evil whisper comes to you from Shaitan,

  then seek refuge with Allah.

  Verily, He is All-Hearer, All-Knower.

  Surah 7:200

  The Holy Qur’an

  TWENTY-NINE

  Thursday, 29th April 2010

  Mia Ngarta needed to undertake the strenuous journey back to Chad. His family lived in a squalid hut at Tibesti, close to the Aozou Strip. When he got the information that they had been kidnapped by a terrorist group, that they had his beautiful young wife, he took five of his men and hurriedly left Katsina. At the border, the Joint Security Tax Force, made up of soldiers, the Nigerian Immigration Service and mobile police officers, arrested all of them. Abouzeid had supplied his name and details to Dr Bode Clark who in turn sent it to his men at the Department of State Security.

  That afternoon, news spread across Nigeria that six terrorists were apprehended as they tried to escape to Chad. When they were paraded their faces were covered with hoods. But instead of six men, only five were paraded. The report said that one of them, their leader, had tried to escape and had been shot. He was Mia Ngarta. But he did not attempt to esca
pe. He never even imagined that he was going to be arrested, nor did he know that his friend, Abouzeid, had been in Nigeria for some time.

  That evening, as people were glued to their television screens, praising God that some of the terrorists had been captured, Donaldo sat thinking about his predicament. He loved Adeline, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but he was in danger – his life was in danger. He knew the only outcome was death if his father found out about Adeline’s pregnancy, for him, for his baby – or perhaps there was another option. He recalled that the Hausa people were known for their skill with poisons and charms. Donaldo rushed to find his car keys.

  He parked on the kerb, got out and leaned against his car. A Hausa man with tribal marks on his face that stretched to his jaw was roasting suya by the roadside. Donaldo bought some suya from him. He noticed that there was no one else around. He sat on a dirty bench and began to eat the meat.

  ‘Aren’t you afraid working here, at this lonely road junction all alone?’ he asked the suya seller.

  ‘I never be dey alone. Na now people dem dey comot. I no dey fear any person,’ the Hausa man responded. The smoke from the charcoal stung Donaldo’s eyes, but he was careful not to rub them because of the juices of the peppery beef on his fingers.

  ‘So what if thieves come… beat you, take your meat and money?’

  ‘Dey no go go free. I get machete, dagger and… haba, I go kill them.’

  Donaldo looked up at the dagger. ‘It’s not sharp. How can your dagger fight men who might come with guns? Be careful, brother. Make sure you go home early.’ He took another bite of the meat and, looking around again, he continued, ‘or do you have poison on the dagger that could be more lethal than a gun?’

  ‘Oga. Me I get charm, wey be say if I rub am for my dagger, kai for three minutes, anybody wey e cut e don die be that. No gun pass that one na.’ He shook his head and made a disapproving sound with his clenched teeth.