The Sanctuary #9

djoi (59)in #fiction • 8 years ago

“Madam, why you dey disturb pesin peace?” an obviously angry policeman asked Beatrice, making Ngozi wince at his insensitivity. The woman just lost her children, all three of them! He should be a little easy on her, besides, they have written the statement they were asked to write. She expected that by now they would have been released.

Before Ngozi could speak up against the mistreatment, Beatrice replied the policeman with curses and insults. “God punish you there!” She shouted. “Which peace you wan get? Make una tell this woman make she give me my pikin dem. I nor do bad thing go her shop o, or una go hear am today.”
“Madam e get as you go talk na, I go put you for cell wey Sisi Kukere dey, you go use your eyes see your... Shun sir!”
It took a few seconds for Ngozi to understand that the policeman’s threat had been interrupted by another policeman who was obviously his superior.
“Officer Korodo what is going on here?” the superior asked. His calm voice sounding strange with the hostility in the air.
“Nothing sir. This woman was disturbing the peace of the neighbourhood, and we brought her and her accomplices here so they could be questioned,” Officer Korodo replied.
At any other time, Ngozi would have laughed at his name. It sounded like the name of an object, an ugly object. She would have laughed harder at the look of fear on his face, which was surprising considering that the superior officer didn’t look threatening in anyway.
Instead, he looked like one of those men who everyone agreed was handsome, even though they somehow managed to make many people angry. He kept a moustache which suited his face perfectly. As he turned to look at them where they sat on the floor as they had been ordered to, Ngozi could see that he had kind eyes which were brown instead of the common black.
She heard Calista catch her breath, and from the side of her eyes saw her smooth down her skirt to look as poise as was possible while seated on the floor.
Many things were filled with humour, and Ngozi would have laughed, if not for the serious matter which brought them to the station.
Ngozi knew Beatrice was right. Someone heard her complain about her children, wishing they were not, and her wish had been granted.
“Who was behind this?” she wondered. She wished she could put an end to this. She knew people were supposed to learn to mind their tongues and what they wished for, but this pain was getting too uncomfortable. Death was irrevocable, and whoever was responsible obviously enjoyed killing.
“I will always be in control. Always,” she heard the clear voice. Slightly nodding her head, she turned her attention to the handsome superior who was listening to Beatrice as she narrated her ordeal.
“I just want my children back, I never wished them dead,” Beatrice ended and burst into tears.
“Madam, where are the children now?” the handsome superior whose nametag read as ‘James Okechukwu’ asked Beatrice.
“I left them on the bed at home,” Beatrice replied. “I could not gaze at their dead bodies a second time”
Ngozi watched the transformation on Beatrice’s face as it dawned on her that the children were dead, when she referred to them as dead bodies. The ensuing silent sobs which wracked her body was more troubling than the wailings she had been letting out earlier.
“Madam please try as much as possible to hold yourself together,” Officer James said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than with a sobbing woman. “I wish there was something I could do, but there’s none,”
“Officer, you must arrest this woman,” Beatrice said pointing to Ngozi. “Different things have been happening at her shop.”
“Did you see her kill your children?” James asked.
“No, but you. ..”
“I will not arrest someone who is not yet proven guilty.”
“What kind of policeman are you?” Beatrice asked him, even as he ignored her.
Ngozi watched as they discussed her like she was not present. She wondered the cause of the steel in Officer James’ voice. It was either the fear of the thought that something so spooky was real, or a personal decision to only arrest those found truly guilty. If it was the latter, he must not be liked very much.

They were released after James insisted on a well written statement. He followed Beatrice to her house and after two hours, came back with a grim face.
“Korodo!” he hollered immediately he arrived the station.
“Sir!”
“Release this people. I don’t have time for such scary matters,” he ordered.
He stood at the door, watching as they walked out of the station.
Each lady walked out with a different thought.
“Why is he staring at me?” Amaka wondered.
“He is not even as strong as I thought he would be,” Calista mused
“Who is Sisi Kukere?” Ire wondered
“Now what next?” Ngozi asked
* * *

The sound of the ringing phone woke him up from his much needed sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he had six hours of sleep through a night, probably since his days as a corps member in the NYSC when he was a teacher.
He had hoped to get at least five hours this night. No such luck.
“Hello,” he said into the phone. Realizing his voice sounded gruff, he cleared his throat.
“Hello,” he repeated.
“It’s true,” the voice said.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. People say anything wished for in the shop happens, so long as it was said out loud.”
“I hope this is not what it looks like. This is only seen in movies!” he said as he sat up, his goal of getting six hours sleep forgotten. “Thank you. I will look into it.”
“You are welcome, at your service sir.” The voice said, then the call was ended.
He got up from the bed and started his daily workout. The time, at three a.m., was early for his regimen, but he knew he couldn’t go back to sleep. It wasn’t everyday one got such news.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel so bored.
There were crimes, and there were crimes.
Growing up, he had wanted to join the police force because he believed he could do better, but at the end he had joined the force as an alternative to joblessness. He got what he wanted.
He was not jobless, but he never achieved something he could be proud of. He sometimes felt ashamed to introduce himself as a police officer.
Maybe this was his chance. His chance to do something he would be proud of, a chance to make the Nigerian police appear more than mere bribe collectors at the checkpoints.
Two hours later, he was dressed for the day. He was always well dressed, which he believed was part of the reason for his promotions, as he always looked serious.
Just before he stepped out of his single-room apartment, he looked at the mirror and spoke to himself.
“I am James Okechukwu. I am a Nigerian Policeman. I swear to protect lives and properties of the Nigerian Population. This is my aim and duty, so help me God.”
He had formed this affirmation, when he was still a green boy in the police force. He knew many policemen would laugh at him if they found out he had such affirmation. That was why it was his secret.
As he stepped out of his room, he knew his life would never remain the same. This day would change it forever.