by Helon Habila
—The first thing I saw on the screen was the madam’s face, she was missing, and then my own face, the last person she was seen with when leaving the European Club in her car. And I remembered I had left the car at the motel, and I began to worry. What if somebody stumbled upon it, my uncle or one of his workers?
The same story was on all the stations: Isabel Floode, only six months in the country, abducted on the way home from the European Club, her driver, Salomon, wanted for questioning. He felt trapped in his room, unsure what to do. The plan had been for him to take the ransom note to Floode’s office in the morning and to drop it there without being seen; Jamabo had drafted the note with clear instructions as to where to bring the money and how to get the woman back. But this was now too dangerous and would have to change.
He couldn’t stay in his room any longer, so he quickly gathered together a few things and took a bus back to the motel.
—I went straight to number nineteen and knocked on the door. I could see the curtain shake as a figure observed me from inside. I shouted, It is me, Salomon, open up quickly. Jamabo opened the door and dragged me inside, telling me to keep my voice down. I looked around and he was alone. I went to the adjoining room where the madam was, and it was empty. Jamabo is sitting on a chair in the first room, waiting for me. Sit down, he told me, there is a change in plans. What do you mean, there is a change in plans? I shouted at him. Who is making the plans, is it not me? He said, Sit down, I am making the plans now. Listen, we think the million dollars you are asking is too small for this operation. But that is bigger than you are ever going to earn in all your life as a policeman. Besides, this is not a real kidnapping, I said. Isn’t it? he asked. My friend, kidnapping is kidnapping. Did you see the news? I am thinking that is why you came back so quickly, isn’t it? Where is she? I asked. Don’t worry, she is being taken somewhere safe as we speak. I saw the news and I knew she couldn’t stay here any longer, so I called a friend of mine who owns a boat and now he is taking her to an island not far from here. No one can find her there. We’ll soon join her. But before we go, I want to make sure you are with us. This is not a game anymore. That is why we are asking for three million instead of one. Last week, a foreign family was kidnapped, a man and his wife, their company paid three million ransom for them. Cash. This woman is worth nothing less than that, but if they decide to negotiate, we can go down to two million. Are you coming with us? You decide. But, I said to him, this is not a real kidnapping. But it is, he said, we will get the same prison sentence regardless of how much we ask for. You are a kidnapper already. Well, I had no option. And we left. First I went and checked out of the motel room, as if nothing was wrong, then we took the car and dumped it in front of a supermarket, then we set out for Agbuki Island. That was where she was being taken by Bassey.
—I know the place. I was there with other reporters. We met nothing there but dead bodies and burned-down houses, I said.
—We went there in a speedboat, and I was surprised at how glad she was to see me. I promised her everything would be all right. They had locked her up by herself in one of the huts and she looked terrified. Well, in the morning we wrote the new ransom note and sent it to the husband, but we didn’t hear back from him, nothing. Two days we were there and by now the lady was beginning to fall sick and the army was out there patrolling the river trying to find her and we didn’t know how long we could remain undetected. Jamabo said we should go and meet the husband with a picture of her as proof. He wanted me to do it since I was the driver and the husband knew me. The other two said we should seek help from other gangs, bigger gangs who have done this kind of thing before, like the Professor. There was constant argument and fighting, and all the time, when I go to give her her food, she’d urge me to take her back home, that she’d make sure her husband paid me my share of the ransom money no matter how much it was. She said she’d not mention my part in it. But I told her I couldn’t. The others were watching us all the time and they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me if they suspected anything. Besides, I couldn’t see myself taking the husband’s money like that: I still hated him. Anyway, things were resolved for us the next day when the whole island was surrounded by boats. It was the Professor. His men came out shooting into the air, they shot at goats and dogs and chickens just like that. They went from door to door till they came to us. We were all in the same hut, the hostage and Bassey and me and Jamabo and Paul, the man with the boat who Jamabo hired. Well, the Professor came in and I was surprised to see how small and ordinary he looked. I had read about him in all the papers and I always assumed he would be a big man. He sat down and he didn’t look at us, but he said to the madam, Are they treating you well? I hope they are, because if they are not, then they will be giving all of us a bad name. Kidnapping is not for amateurs, they make a mess, people get killed, and when they do the papers have a field day. They call us barbaric, and it spoils business for everyone. Jamabo quickly jumped in and said, We are taking care of her very well. Everything is under control. Ah, so you are the leader, the Professor said, turning and looking up at Jamabo. Jamabo nodded eagerly. And you think you can just kidnap people here in my territory, without letting me know? The Professor spoke very mildly, he didn’t raise his voice. And Jamabo kept nodding and even smiling, he said, Haba, Professor, we were going to contact you after everything has been settled. We will give you your share . . . And the Professor raised his hand and said to his men who were standing there holding guns, Take him out. And they grabbed Jamabo and took him out and after a minute we heard a scream, then a gunshot. Just like that. Well, everyone fell silent. We couldn’t believe what had just happened. But we never saw Jamabo again. Not even his dead body. The madam was holding my hand, and she was trying to hide behind me and she was whimpering like this, Mmmh, mmmmh, on and on, and she didn’t even know she was doing it. He looked at me and at her and he said, We are taking you off the hands of these idiots. But she was still whimpering and shaking her head and holding my hand and saying, Please, please, no. And he said, Believe me, you are more likely to get hurt in the hands of these idiots than with us. We will get in touch with your family and everything will be settled in a few days. We want this over as soon as possible. He looked at me and said, You must be the driver. She seems to trust you, so you will come with us. You are in charge of her welfare. And then Bassey raised his hand and said, Please, Oga Professor, I want to join you too. You are welcome, said the Professor. And we left together. They blindfolded me, and Isabel and Bassey. We were taken onto a boat and then we were on the water. It was a fairly long boat journey and when the blindfold was finally removed, we were on a strange beach with statues facing the water. They call it Irikefe.
I nodded.
—I know Irikefe.
—That day the Professor called me and said, How much were you idiots asking for?
—And I said three million, and he shook his head and said, Idiot. She is worth more than that. At least five million. We will send them her hair, that should convince them we have her. If it doesn’t, we will send an ear. But I hope it never gets to that, not good for business. She does have rather distinctive hair, so the husband should know it is hers. At the moment she is all over the news. That is good. The more publicity, the more money the company is willing to pay; if they refuse to pay, they will be seen in a bad light. So we will send the hair, then we will arrange a viewing. We will call the media to come in two days.
—The plan was to bring you reporters first to Agbuki, and then to Irikefe, where she was being held. And I was left with her because I was the only one she would talk to, and she was really falling sick by now. Vomiting all the time. She couldn’t eat the food. The Professor went with two boatloads of his men to Agbuki to wait for the media. He loves the media, he loves talking about his war for the environment and he wanted to receive the media personally and lead them to the worshippers’ island. But somehow the army had found out what was going on and were w
aiting for him when he got there. They thought he was with the woman. Many men were killed. But the Professor got away, they went back to Irikefe and that night we left the island with the hostage and came here.
—And what happened to your other partner?
—Bassey.
—Yes.
—He was killed by the soldiers on that island.
—Now tell me about the escape, how did you manage it?
He said although he was not confined in any way, he soon realized that he was as much a hostage in the forest as Isabel, and he grew scared. And meanwhile the woman grew sicker every day. After the attack at Agbuki, the Professor had raised the ransom money to ten million dollars, he had also grown more cautious and it didn’t look as if she’d be freed anytime soon. She grew more nervous, her face grew red and blotchy with insect bites and her clothes were all torn and dirty—they gave her a military jacket to put on when she washed her things. She cried more and more often, and more and more time went by, and at last Salomon gave in. He told her he would try to escape, but they had to plan carefully. The good thing was that even though general security was very tight, only one guard watched over them at any one time, because it didn’t seem conceivable that they’d make a break for it. Where would they go?
—It was not going to be easy. If we were able to leave the forest, we’d have to find one of the military camps out there, and if we didn’t find any, we’d have to find a village that would agree to hide us and help us get word to the military or to her husband. Hopefully they’d help us if we promised them money. I knew the people were more likely to betray us to the Professor—they fear the militants more than the army. But by now I was as desperate as she was to escape.
—How did you do it?
—At night, on a day when the camp was almost deserted, most of the men had gone on an operation, they do that all the time. I was in charge of her, as always. I knew where they keep the boats, over on that side, in a cave. There are always a few boats there; in case they are attacked suddenly by the army they can get away in the boats. And so that night she put on the military jacket and covered her hair and blackened her face a bit so she wouldn’t be recognized. The guard watching us always fell asleep around one p.m.; I guess he didn’t believe we would ever attempt to run away. So we waited till I was sure he was asleep, then we sneaked out. We almost made it to the boats when we were challenged by a voice right behind me. I didn’t think, I just threw myself at him, and luckily he didn’t have time to fire his gun. We fought and I bashed his head with a rock. I don’t know if he died. We rowed for many hours till we got to a village, and for a while luck was on our side. They were good people. They listened to our story, and they helped us.
21
When I woke up the next morning a man was kneeling over me, nudging me with his gun. I sat up quickly and the man stood up and moved back. The others were awake, except Salomon, who wasn’t anywhere to be seen. After our interview he had turned away from me and lain on his side, and he hadn’t gotten up even when our evening meal was brought by the same group that had fed us earlier. When I called to him to come and eat, he had said no, he wasn’t hungry. Now the man with the gun beckoned to me with one hand and turned and started toward the trees. For some reason I knew I was being taken to the Professor, and I was ready. In the time I had been here I had somehow managed to get over my initial fear and nervousness, and had finally come to believe what I always knew in my heart was true and yet had never taken consolation in: the Professor needed the press, and from all that I had heard about him, he wasn’t a madman who shot people for fun. He was a man with an agenda, and anything that could help him in that pursuit he’d treat with respect. I was that thing, and the more firmly I believed that, and behaved accordingly, the safer I would be.
The Professor was lying in a hammock hanging from two stunted mango trees, and he jumped down as soon as I was presented to him. There were about a dozen men around him, all armed, all looking distrustfully at me. Above us, through the tree branches, I could see the sun just breaking out of the eastern clouds. Most of the camp was still asleep.
—Journalist, it is a pity about your friend.
—My friend?
—The white woman’s driver. Didn’t they tell you? Didn’t anyone tell him? He tried to run away early this morning. He had done it once, and he thought it was going to be as easy as before, but you can’t fool the people all the time. My men saw him and gave chase and he lost his head. He jumped off the cliff and fell on the rocks below. He died instantly.
I closed my eyes.
—His body was taken away by the river. A tragedy, don’t you think?
—I find it hard to believe . . .
The Professor stepped forward till he was standing right in front of me, but the menace of this gesture was diminished by his short stature—his eyes were just about level with my chin. Two of his men stepped forward with him, and their combined presence forced me to take a step back, and yet I felt no fear.
—Are you calling me a liar, reporter?
—No, Professor. I am not. I don’t know you well enough to do that.
He looked at me for a while, and then he turned and hopped back into his hammock, his short legs swinging, his thick military boots clicking together, dropping bits of mud into the grass. He extended his arm and one of the men placed a rifle into the open hand.
—You reporters, you are always clever with words—me, I am a soldier, I know how to fight, and I will never stop fighting till I achieve my goal. Write that when you get back.
—I will do that.
—I called you here to set you free. You can go. There is a boat waiting for you. One of my men will take you to a nearby village and you will be on your own. We are going out on an operation; you may have noticed the whole camp getting ready. By this time tomorrow, one of the major oil depots will be burning. I want you to write about it, tell them I am responsible. I can’t tell you more than that, but I can tell you the war is just starting. We will make it so hot for the government and the oil companies that they will be forced to pull out. That is all I can say for now.
—What about the woman?
—The woman is safe, as you will see for yourself.
There was a movement behind the trees and two men appeared, leading Isabel. She looked as I had last seen her, still wearing the same clothes, her hair shockingly cropped short, but in her posture and in her gaze I detected a subtle change, a sort of resignation, a surrender to the strange and obscure forces that sometimes take over our lives, and which it is futile to resist. I made to go toward her but one of the men raised his gun and shook his head at me. My eyes met hers and I nodded, and she nodded, then she turned and was led away by the men.
—Take this envelope to her husband: it contains more of her hair. Tell him his wife is safe, but after two days, if we don’t hear from him, we can’t guarantee her safety anymore. We are getting impatient. Two days, final.
—There is another woman, from Irikefe. Her name is Gloria. Your men took her a few days ago . . .
—Ah, the nurse. She is gone. We set her free two days ago. Did you think we’d keep her here against her wish, rape her, maybe? We are not the barbarians the government propagandists say we are. We are for the people. Everything we do is for the people, what will we gain if we terrorize them? I am speaking for myself and my group, of course. I am aware that, out there, there are criminal elements looting and killing under the guise of freedom fighting, but we are different. Those kind of rebels, they are our enemies. That is why I am letting you go, so you can write the truth. And be careful, whatever you write, be careful. I am watching you. I have people everywhere.
—I will write only the truth.
He jumped down and came forward till his chin was almost touching my chest. This time he reached out a finger and poked me, his eyes locked with mine.
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—Write only the truth. Tell them about the flares you see at night, and the oil on the water. And the soldiers forcing us to escalate the violence every day. Tell them how we are hounded daily in our own land. Where do they want us to go, tell me, where? Tell them we are going nowhere. This land belongs to us. That is the truth, remember that. You can go.
I SAT UNDER a tree and watched the men come and go, some of them busy comparing guns, rolls of bullets draped around their shoulders like scarves. Some carried metal boxes that they passed down to the boats waiting in the river. They were on the warpath, and I was free. Soon I would have to set out on my own path, yet a heaviness lay on my heart, and I felt no exhilaration or joy or relief. I just felt tired, and hungry. I kept looking in the direction in which I had seen Isabel disappear, and I was tempted to go after her and assure her I would deliver the silent message she had passed to me with her eyes, and I would waste no time doing it. But she knew that already, I was sure.
OUR BOAT’S PROW broke into the dense, inscrutable mist, making for open water. It was an old wooden boat with an outboard motor that looked just about capable enough to take us to the next settlement. I looked back to the shore we had just left. A few militants stood in the mist, guns dangling by their sides, staring after our slowly disappearing boat. My escort left me on the other riverbank with a plastic bottle full of water. Behind me was a dense forest and my heart quivered just to think that I’d soon be traversing its depth on my way to where, he told me, I’d find a village and a boat to take me to Irikefe. The river curved in a big U, and the ground I’d be covering was the middle of the U; on the other side I’d meet the river again where it joined the sea and where the village was.
When I came out of the forest, I had no problem getting a boat, and after a ride of over two hours on the sea we arrived at Irikefe. I got down and thanked the villagers who had transported me. I joined a group standing by the water watching three fishermen in a boat slowly pulling up a big net full of wriggling fish. We cheered as the net came up, and then I left the group and headed for Gloria’s house.