I am deeply vexed. Yes! It’s a crazy world! But I believe we know that already. Some persons are so insanely wicked. Again we know that too. Some of the details of the story I’m about to paint are based on hearsay (I wasn’t at the scene of the crime after all). However, that the young man I’ll be mentioning from time to time is now dead to this world isn’t hearsay. I saw him yesterday. Or maybe I should say I saw his corpse with my very own koro koro eyes. Yes! I saw those eyes open and lifeless; unseeing. I saw that young mouth hanging agape in agony. The mouth must have gasped as a fellow human being plunged a jagged-edged bottle straight into his heart. I saw the bloodied bandage around his chest. I saw the red gashes on his left hand. I’ve seen Marvellous before. In Church, singing psalms and leading the choir in choruses. But yesterday, the Marvellous I saw lay dead, soaked in his own blood. The vicious sight left a bad taste in my mouth and made me sick to my stomach…
Let’s not fully let the cat out of the bag just yet. I was somewhere with a colleague when he (my colleague) got a call. I wasn’t paying much attention at the time. Didn’t want to be eavesdropping. I started paying attention when my friend changed his tone. He mentioned ‘dead? When?’ By then my two ears were standing on their toes, I had to stop them from taking leave of my face…
Anyways, I soon gathered that a young man, Marvellous, had been stabbed to death right here in Abia, Iruekpen, Edo State. Now, don’t get me wrong. People die daily in this country. The menace of Boko Haram remains fresh on our minds. There’s a widespread insecurity of lives and property. But the death of this young man stands different. Why?
Those who killed Marvellous aren’t terrorists. They aren’t linked with Boko Haram or Isis or Al-Qaeda. These are ‘homies’; people living next door. Known people with faces. Young irresponsible self-aggrandised idiots. This is why I can’t sleep. This is why I have set my pen to paper (or should I say ‘my fingers to typewriter’?).
Friends, you can’t keep quiet. Something lawless has been done. The life of a young man has been nipped in the bud. The police in Iruekpen must rise. Those who should ensure that kids don’t get trigger/bottle/knife-happy must do their jobs. I know they aren’t paid much. I know they’ve almost been crippled by corruption, I know the system doesn’t work. But, in this case we must make it work. It could be my brother or sister tomorrow. God forbid it.
Yesterday some said that the late young man was so temperamental. They said it’s possible he got into a fight. But news reaching me as I sit on my desk reports otherwise. Marvellous didn’t get into a fight. He was trying to make peace between these hoodlums and his friend, who is said to have been at the centre of the fracas. This isn’t about his person. Or about his faith. It’s not even about his family, it’s about the sacredness of life. It’s about realising that you just can’t wake up one morning and go on a killing spree. It’s about JUSTICE!
What must we do? Instigate the police to do their job. Yes! And promptly too. In this situation, money mustn’t change hands. Witnesses saw with their eyes. They should not be afraid to name names and point fingers. Those who murdered Marvellous must be brought to book. I’m angry. Completely vexed. I can’t keep quiet. I must act. I gathered that the culprit has killed before and gone scot-free. This means that the indigenes here know him. I’m not an investigator. Let those assigned this duty do it. How can one who has killed before not kill again? Especially when he got away with it the first time?
In civilised countries, political rallies and campaigns are done with the brains. Yes! The candidates are asked serious questions on how they intend to tackle issues affecting the masses, and how they hope to make life more comfortable and bearable for the people (from the man/woman inside the mansion to the man/woman on the streets).
They are made to give televised, live media chats where the press can bombard them with more questions. Then they are made to engage in live debates, with each candidate explaining why he/she should be voted in place of the other….
Sadly, in my country, campaign sites are a complete jamboree. Candidates mount the podium and talk about everything else the other candidates can’t do. Then they gloss over what they intend to do (they know we’re not even listening). Finally, they insult the other parties again for good measure, then they call their boot lickers to sing their praises as though they were Obas or Olafins or even Ijies. Then they bow out of the stage accompanied by rounds of applause from people who don’t give a hoot about what has been said except what can be had immediately.
Even the old woman that comes to the scene with an umbrella or a broom expects to go back with some naira notes or nylons of rice (sometimes coolers of jolof rice). What about the young people? Many of them cheer and cheer these candidates. Why not? Neither the candidates nor they fully understand the problems of the nation not to mention solutions…
Rape Again?
Something happened today that made me reflect on an experience I had two years ago. A lay classmate of mine met a lady who was raped by an uncle, after series of molestations. Now she’s pregnant, what does she do? Her story is not unlike that of many young ladies around. Yes! MANY…
It was February 8th, 2013; about 8:pm at night. I was on my way from the campus (I was still an assistant chaplain at the time, at Ambrose Alli University Ekpoma), driving at top speed (the road was free and I wanted to flex my muscles a bit) when suddenly I saw her…
There was nothing unusual about a lone lady trying to flag down a vehicle at night. What was unusual was that this person was almost at the middle of the road, and she was stark naked. Adrenaline kicked into my veins, and I intended to blow past on ‘ghost mode’. However, my reason overcame my fear, and I stopped…
It was a moment of indecision. One mind told me that the lady was a distraction and that there were probably robbers hiding in the bushes. Another mind told me she was badly in need of the help (I could tell from the way she was waving her hands around like a mad woman). The third mind reminded me that I was a priest. How would I explain a naked lady in my car? A fourth mind told me to wait, but to be on super high alret. These thoughts flashed through my mind in seconds…
I decided to hang on to the last thought, and hung around a bit. That was all the lady needed. She quickly got into my car. As soon as her other feet left the ground I was off in a flash… To cut the long story short, she had been raped. Yes! A bike man that was supposed to take her to Eronmonsele Hospital to see her sick dad drove her elsewhere and raped her…
How many of our innocent children continue to be sexually molested and raped by wild animals posing as human beings? It’s even worse when it’s done by those who should protect them. The biology teacher pretending to be carrying out experiments; the lecturer claiming assessments that aren’t academic related; the father feigning special ‘daughterly’ love; the so called boyfriend who gets lost in lust; the doctor under the guise of ‘detailed check-ups’; even the holy man of God under the pretext of in-door counselling…
I’ll talk about the lady’s dilemma in my next write up, and the options that may be best available to her from the Christian perspective. Right now, my concern is with the root of the problem.
What’s this crazy libido that makes one forget that the lady out there is a human being? What’s this sex drive that turns human beings into dogs and wolves? We must be held responsible for our actions. Yes! All of us who are directly or indirectly guilty of sexual molestations, abuses and rapes.
Ladies, learn to make a stand! Please try to get over the shame, the guilt and the social stigma. God will definitely bring the healing. It may take time but it’s certain. Don’t give up. Talk to someone today. Don’t let rapists go unpunished. A crime is a crime!
Rev. Fr. Oselumhense K. Anetor
