I held on to my manhood as if it was going to fall, yet it was still firmly there. I looked to the left and to the right, the mammoth crowd dazed me. And this was after I had been thoroughly beaten up by the crowd for making an attempt to rape a minor. Some of the market women were shouting that I should be burnt alive, and fewer opined that I should be handed to the appropriate authority for proper punishment. The voices of those wanting to do jungle justice overwhelmed those who were against! My organ which was big and thick like ponmo was as short and small like a kobo candy. Shrink was the best caption if I were to be a journalist.
My body ached, my shirt was soaked in the pool of blood arising from the beating. Despite the fact the pains in me were much, the best way to escape from further punishment filled my heart. I looked at the sight one of the loudest voices, a tall and huge man whom I guessed to be in his early 30s, wielding a huge rod gave me a deadly look; cold fear ran through my spine. “God, why am I always in this kind of situation”?
“Draw him to the centre. Let him lie straight on the ground. Turn to the centre properly” It was the voice of the friend of the mother of the nine-year-old child I wanted to rape. I knew this because she was the one that was first called when the pepper seller who had wanted to poo at the corner of the market waste-side, where I had lured the girl to , under the pretense that I needed a helping hand to assist me in carrying yam tubers to the fore.
“Beat him more and let him wake up at the gate of hell,” one Hausa man said not minding that his teeth were full of stains. His words got them more furious with me the more.
“What I am after is the cutting off of his organ. Let us make him useless………” I didn’t look up to see the face of the speaker, but it was a female voice.
” Yes, let us cut off the stupid and useless organ that the fool is using to cause havoc. I am sure he must have been doing this for many times. Oloriburuku, onyiberibe, donbrobaa, bastard”. I raised my head up due to the pebbles someone from the crowd threw at me. It was a fat woman with big and fat arms that spoke those words. Angers were vividly written all over her face. I was restless. The pains were getting too much and the saliva in my mouth was dried up.
At the end of the day, the Iyaloja, that is, the leader of the market women and men respectively ordered that I should be taken to the nearest police station. There were murmurs amongst the crowd, meaning, they were not satisfied with the verdict of their leader. All they wanted was a pound of my flesh. They wanted to render my organ useless or be cut off and be given to a hungry and deadly dog.
“I have spoken and that remains an order. Whoever is not pleased should pack his wares and relocate to another market. Imagine killing this man inside our market, what would people and government say? They would say that we have used him to perform a ritual. I don’t want any undeserved embarrassment. Not even with this rapist. Bad man,bad stigma and bad product. Please, get him out of this market,” the Iyaloja said with air of finality.
She looked at me from head to toe , spat at me, hissed aloud , as she left the scene.
“Gboa, gbam, gbash,” the beating continued as they lifted me up with deadly punches before taking me to a police station. Children trooped in large numbers to catch a glimpse of me. It was during the school closing hours. Nobody persuaded them to keep off.
The story changed when we got to the police station. The officers at the counter were opposed to me being detained there because they said that I was a chronic offender. Truly, I had been taken there many times on same issue. Yes, on rape issues. Some I did really, and some were just mere attempts. I was ashamed of myself.
“Officer, we have a rapist for you here. You will be glad to see his rotten face,” the leader of the group enthusiastically informed the Divisional Police Officer.
The officer whom I could see from afar came in briskly to where I knelt down as ordered by my captors. He was eager to detain me due to the allegations against me. Immediately he saw me, the expression on his face melted away. He was disappointed that I was the offender. He hissed on seeing my face.
“Is this the culprit? I am not interested in his case. He is a constant figure in this place. In fact, he is a dent on this community and we don’t want someone that will give our station a bad name. Please take him away to anywhere you like. We won’t detain him here,” he said looking more furious.
“ Haaaaa, so this idiot is a son of the beast” ? The second leader asked, looking directly into the DPO’s face.
“Yes, madam, in the last six months, he has been our visitor more than 32 times on account of raping. We have done our homework and concluded that he must have been cursed. No sane man at this age will engage in such an act. This is terrible,” he said while leaving where I was still kneeling down.
” So, you must have been cursed? Were ni e o. You are simply a mad man. You better don’t try this with any of my relatives because I will skin you alive. Let us go and leave this idiot here,”he said while giving me a blow.
They dispersed one by one, thus leaving me at the entrance of the police station. Efforts by the policemen to create fear in the minds of those who brought me there to take me back were nil. It was a pitiable condition. Flies were perching on my nose and eyes for a taste of the blood almost turning to greenish colour. My hands were too weak to scare them. But occasionally, I shook my head in total anticipation to scare them. Nobody pitied my condition.
Later, a benevolent female police officer, elderly with beautiful skin came to me , gave me handkerchief soaked in warm salty water to clean my bruises. She looked at me with pity, but said no word throughout the 20 minutes or thereabout.
She stayed with me, making sure that I looked a bit better before going away. She called on a younger officer who handed to me some amounts of money enough to take me to any destination in the town. Such is life, no matter what you would still get someone out of thousands to give you a shoulder to lean upon.
This has been part and parcel of me for the past 20 years. I am a rapist. But the problem is that I always don’t know what always came over me. I must have finished committing the crime and been beaten to a pulp before realising my mistake or coming back to my senses. It was at Orelope Market a few hours ago. What of the ones at Imoore Market, Oyigbo clubside, Agunlejika Bus Stop, Ajaratopo Fish Market and so on?
I needed help, but help was not coming anywhere. The bruises on my body, both fresh and old, were enough to earn me recognition. There was a day that I was thrown inside hot pepper soup out of anger by the crowd. This was when I went to the church to rape a five-year-old child who went to pee. It was countless. But how did it start. This is what you need to know.
It began in…………..
(To be continued)
