Road trip to Benin

"Hurry! Hurry quickly before they see you." "My leg My leg" Francis whimpered, dragging an open mound of flesh behind him. Fresh blood poured out of his wound like an overflowing bath. The two boys crawled into the raggedy boot of an abandoned Peugeot. "Sorry sorry wait I'll let me tie the leg" Moses slid his sweat soaked shirt off and tied it around his comrades weeping flesh. Ra-ta-ta-Ra-ta-ta-ta! Gunshots eroded the night. Francis began to cry again. Moses hugged his friend so tight he felt his heart would bounce out of his back. They had escaped from armed robbers, now their only prayer was to not get caught if not merciless death was certain.

This palaver began two days ago when one of the friends got a love call. Francis came off the phone beaming with excitement. He would be visiting his girlfriend for the first time since she moved to school in September. It was January now, he had waiting long for this invite. They lived with their families in Port Harcourt city, a small metropolis in Nigeria. Benin was an exciting adventure ahead because they had never visited another country. They spent the next few days borrowing money from peers and withdrawing whatever they had in the bank. When they gathered what they felt enough the duo packed for a week long vacation and set off to the nearest bus park

Port Harcourt to Lagos state was a 7 hour road trip, they took the earliest bus out the next morning and would take another one from Lagos to cross Seme border into Benin republic. Sophie, the damsel sought after gained admission into the North American university in Benin, her and her sister Josephine whom Moses usually stayed up late at night with, beguiling and wooing. They got to the border crossing at about 6pm that evening, bribing their passport-less selves through immigration they were set on getting to thier destination which was less than three hours away. On a rickety bike two miles from the last military check point sporadic shooting begun. The bus infront of them came to an abrupt stop as the passengers jumped down from the doors and windows. The bike driver engulfed in fear let the bike drop as he fled for his dear life. It was open space, there was almost no place to hide.

Soon the gunmen rounded up the unfortunate travellers, Francis and Moses included. Stripped of their possessions and forced to lay in suffocating dust children wept and women wailed until the loudest woman got shot. A fearsome warning to the rest. There was silence for what seemed like forever before the agitated gunmen lunged forward to battle with equally armed soldiers. It was during this battle the boys seized the chance to escape their captors. As they ran frantically with no destination in mind, a flying bulled logged itself in Francis' thigh. He screamed in pain. Moses sighted an abandoned taxi and dragged his friend into the open boot, deciding the inside of the car was too unsafe. Crammed into the boot, the smell of dust, engine oil and iron embraced them.

After another forever passed, only ragged breathing could be heard. Everything was so still until suddenly the lid of the boot flung open. Exhausted and frightened eyes stared up at stern bloodshot eyes. The military man with a rifle in one hand and the boot lid in the other, saw two young boys one shirtless, glued together in a pool of blood. The other one looked barely conscious. He spoke frantic French but they looked at him afraid and bewildered. He bekoned to another soldier. They carried the wounded boy into their van, his second staggering behind. At the van they joined other wounded people, old and young. It was morning now, early in the morning. The huge clock in front of the hospital read 4:46. People covered in blood and bruises were ushered into the building by nurses in blue and white uniforms. Moses supported Francis unto an empty bed in the overcrowded ICU. The place smelled of harsh disinfectant. Nurses and doctors rushed about with bandages and scissors looking things, speaking French and cleaning up wounds. Soon Francis was cleaned up, the bullet taken out and bandage replaced the shirt that was once bright green. A drip line sent healing fluid from a translucent bag into his veins. Moses sat shirtless beside the bed and watched his unconscious friend. His mind blank, unable to process the sudden change of events, he too fell asleep in a white plastic chair.

Francis opened his tired eyes, though less tire than they were last night. It no longer felt like his life was slowly sucked out of his body, now he felt like it was slowly coming back. He stared at his bestfriend for a while, slowly accepting the reality he was currently trapped in. Just then Moses' eyes opened. They just stared at each other wordless. "Do you know Sophie's number off hand? " Moses broke the silence. "Yes". He walked round the hospital holding a scrap piece of bandage with her number written on it. He didn't speak French. It was a very local hospital and few nurses spoke broken English, soon enough he convinced one of them after much pleading to use her phone. He stood at a window facing the maternity wing, carefully in the phone owners veiw and waited as the call rang for it to be answered.

Finally Sophie's voice echoed through the phone speaker. "Moses? I've been calling since yesterday what happened" "we're at Kupe general hospital" he answered weakly "please bring food and clothes, we were attacked by robbers, Francis is really hurt. He could hear her choking and sobbing in the background as she whispered ok and hung up. Forty-five minutes later she came rushing in with Josephine beside her both holding yellow polytene bags. Her eyes filed with renewed tears as she saw Francis, half his usual size with his left thigh covered in thick bandages.