BAR TO JAIL

“Goodnight my friend. When I go home, the first thing tomorrow morning is to go to tell your mother that you’re doing well. I will reach out to your Abigail and tell her that you will be out soon,” he told him and then stares at the rusted roof of prison.

“You don’t need to do all that. My mother will be more broken when she sees you walk into her compound without me. Her heart will wear out for this abyss of solitude she has been going through. She will not attend to her cows. She will not believe that I will come out in the next eight months. She will never believe anything that comes out of your mouth. She is emotional. Very emotional,” he told Amum.

And then Amum leans his back on a skin-like mattress. It’s going to be his last time in jail. Okay, maybe his last time in jail because this world is cruel: and, anything that is associated to crime would be a DON’T GO ZONE for him – for better, or worse. He is going to be home at least; a place where lights are off at wills, food is never that filthy and of course, no one ever reminds you about the number of times you have become a felon or the petty misdemeanors the jury cites out of their drinking act.

Eight years ago, he was convicted for public incitement; actually, that [he], Amum, took part in the public demonstration – the demands for the regime change. The calls for the removable of the incomplete incumbent leaders who possess nothing beyond their exaggerated excellent appetite and the of audacity doing nothing in those air -conditioned offices.

“Jonathan Amum, how I wish this could be my last time to see you in this place, in this uniforms,” the man laments. “This place don’t deserves people like you, for Christ sake,” he continues. Amum was doing his clearance; somehow, in hastes, his sister was waiting. It’s the sister whom he left as a toddler when the law sends him to serve his spoonful of jail term behind bars who came to pick him. Those who used to be important to him including his wife and father and two brothers had forgotten all about him. Actually, they had given up in him. She is now an adult whose beauty makes men yodels when she pass around mini skirt. He was fill with joy because this is the first time to meet with his son whom he left when he was a year. This one too, is the only chance to meet some of the men who plotted him to go behind bars. It’s, again, the same chance to meet his wife, possibly, who abandoned their vulnerable son and joins the politician who swore to provide her with all the things she wants in the world: money, electronic accessories, posh cars and any other related materialistic thing that make woman Jezebel. For those of you who don’t know Jezebel, she is a wife of King Ahab in the bible.

“If I were you, I would rather come here day as a preacher or a political figure to give hope to inmates or even free them because not all criminals are culprits and not everyone that is not imprisoned is innocent,” and that, indeed, is the cycle the world takes to address big things like global warming, plowshares: religion against religion, skin tone stereotyping, ethnic against the other, and even the economic prejudice.

Amum, on his fateful day, his arrest was somewhat a shallow activity that could have sends everyone to laugh if at all, the state of affairs in the country had wanted a secondary assistance from the united state of somber minds (USOM): the “unprivileged” class to give solutions and analogy on things that matters to them and the state at large.

“Jonathan Amum,” the judge reads, ”you have been accused of several things: right from defaming the dignity of the president, publicly abusing him and attacking him and on your serial writing. You’re being accused, too, of organizing a protest: both in and out of the country for the president to resign. By the way, are you aware of the danger you are putting yourself? Now, Mr. Jonathan, are you guilty or not,” she asks. “On the other hand, you have been fighting unnecessary wars with your member of parliament, accusing him of having an affair with your wife, are you out of your mind?” asks again.

Partially, the judge has touched few things he had done but again, there was a bit of illicit content which really flabbergasted him; the degree of lies that were stain on his PR. First of all, he did not call for any protest or the resignation of the president. His main and personal problem was with him and his member of parliament. The man he described in one his articles as politically barren, a political appendix and glutton that sleep with women and his employees.

This case came to the public attention after they had meddled over a woman. Amum’s wife.

It was at the bar, not just a bar but also a popular bar that’s known of for the people of class. Not jargons that collects news. The career hawkers who hails from emotional society of economic humility who live through imaginary life.

“Excuse me,” the waiter whispered to Sharon’s ear. “ the gentleman over there send me to come and give this to you,” and then he pulls out a bottle of champagne.

“Who sends you?” she asked with shock.

“That man over there in grey suits.” The waiter pointed at the “Big Man”. “He said you should join his table if you think your friends will take long to come,” he said.

And then Amum who had gone out to answer an important call appears. “What’s going on here? I hope you’re not drinking that one, honey?” he says, as he was about to sit.

“Someone I barely know sends me this, baby,” she holds up the bottle of champagne. The waiter was still standing there, speechless just like a statue, waiting for Sharon to respond to her.

“Who was that?” he asks.

“The gentleman seated at the counter, wearing grey suits.” Waiter explains.

At once, Amum recognized him at once. The political harlot he has been degrading his political career. They both come from the same constituency and he is his parliamentary representative.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

“But we just got here?” asks Sharon innocently and confused.

“I w ill tell you more when we reaches home,” he says.

And then they left; his eyes reddening like a setting sun. He knew the war has has just began and this time, there will be uncountable bruises on their faces, knees, jaws will be broken or plug out. Once a politician, always and they never stop coming for you.

When they reach home, they found three men, who claimed they were working on their car near their fence. “Is everything okay, gentlemen?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s a minor problem but we will fix in a due time,” says one of them.

“Okay, fine. Wishing a good luck.” And then he wished them unappreciated good luck indeed. While he parks the  car, his wife was already advancing into the house when she was grab by the wig and then a cold metal was placed on her neck. “Shhhhh! Don’t even dare scream.” Says the masked guy. She remained mute like a log.

“Don’t forget to arrange my suits for the conference tomorrow, baby. I will have to wake up earlier in the morning and go through my work.” He was closing the door behind. He did not even bother to see where she was: bedroom, kitchen. He never because Sharon is never the type of a girl that would leave anything untouched: taps, lights and the backdoor, she makes sure that they’re all closed. As long as there was a light on, he thought she was there, waiting for him. When turns, there were about three men. One standing at the bedroom’s run way whilst the other two, sited at the helm of the couch. Sharon was still covering her eyes to avoid any sinister event that could happen to her young family.

“Don’t dare try to move. Not even any centimeter; you might regret this for the rest of your life,” said the guy standing in the runway.  And then they left his wife untouched, coiled in the couch and they all mushroomed on him. They beat him like a drum.

All the venoms that Hon. vaccinated them with were hissed on him. “If you have ears then clean them very well from today onwards,” and then they left him unhurt. That was that. And they thought he had ears to do it. A year later, he was in the same bar, same table but this time, not with his wife. She is a mother now and she cannot afford leaving home a small child to come and grab some beers anymore. What will the so-called in-laws will say if they see her in such places? Culture never decays that fast. Women always have a parameter to fence for their dignity. Men only bend low maybe when they’re begging political seats.

He did not stop defaming him. In fact, he became more furious and he gave the evidence of the man’s failure as he represents him in the parliament. As he leaves the bar, he ran into men who tortured him and sized him like a piece of shit and then threw him into the boot of the car and took him to the station where he was charged of robbery with violence and drug trafficking. Amum was served with a plateful of eight years jail term before he could celebrate his son’s first year birth anniversary.

“Go well and this time serve the nation with all your heart. You’re a great writer. You need to change people’s lives with your pen.” Amum was buttoning his shirt as he listens to the man. How do people understands his pain? His balls were squeezed eights ago to agree that he deals in drugs, the same nincompoops jailed him and convinced his wife to share a bed with him and now, this superintendent is here preaching change. What change? Is to accept that infidels are righteous people and they deserve a special corner? Or prison has now turns into a holiday camp? He rhetorically asked himself. “Thank you, sir.” He mumbled. His sister was standing outside. When he saw her, he almost shed tears of joy but he controlled himself. How can he just cry like a kid yet he’s a man? He controlled himself and then hugs his sister tight like it’s was the last she will last in his arms. She was sobbing silently. On the other side, a nine-year-old boy was standing. He was looking at a beautiful reunion. A sister and brother reunited.

“Oh, hey, meet my friend here,” his sister said.

He knew what she meant by that. They used to see each other before his mother ran away to pleased the Honorable.

“Hello, Son.”

“Hello, Daddy.”

And then the son ran to hug his father. They hug for the longest time ever. They were both happy and crying constantly in silence. They both sat at the back of the car as Amum’s sister drive them home.

Later, in the day, he went to his friend’s house and assure his mother that he is doing fine. It’s a childhood friend and the friendship has been in motion since then until now. That he will be out in less than a year and he should never be worried. He could see the hollowness in her heart. She was wearing. Tearing apart. She told him, “in several occasion

Stories were in the air about his release. His friends to join hands to welcome him. It’s they drove to a hotel. Not a bar. They chose a quite corner where they would avoid the obstructions from hotel attendants and the drinkers.

They all sat. And then one of them signaled the waitress to come and serve them. Amum, by then, had gone to the cloak to ease himself. A lady came to take their orders. Amum. Did not bother to look at her. The only thing he wants to know how sweet it’s to walk free. But, as he sits, he recognized her.

“Sharon?” he asks.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh my goodness! Amum!! This is you?”

“Yeah, this is me,” and then he stood up with the motive that he might asks him the billion questions. Sharon turned her back on him and then went straight to the counter, placed the table on the counter and then she entered into a small room written STAFF ONLY.

Everyone on the table was mesmerizes except one friend. The master planer who indeed wanted to send a message to Sharon that the olden adage used to say, “not all that glitters is gold.” The first few years, when Amum was still in prison and then she joined the family enemy, life became sweet. She was living a fancy life. She could travel to Paris and Rome and Dubai. However, during the next general election, her Hon. was charged with corruption scandals, which later ruined his political career and zeroed down his wealth. Again later, when he died of blood pressure, Sharon could never get even a slight of his wealth though they had two kids. Life began to teach her every lesson she skipped until she finds herself as a waitress in the bar.

“Excuse me, guys,” Amum said as he stood up. He had been listening to each word of the story as his friend narrates. He walked to the counter and then he was granted to enter the same room.

His friends waited hoping to see him to appear but he never did. They tried to call he could not respond.

Exeunt.