BOKO HARAM SPOILS MY DAY

In Write a story in which the lines between awake and dreaming are blurred.

      I swung round, startled, eyes widened in both fear and anger. To my left a powerful hissing sound of a cobra launching an attack gave an indication of serious trouble. Yes it was a cobra, a huge lithe limbed reptile darkened by both age and anger baring its horrible two inch fangs just a meter from my path. To my startled mind the length of the reptile fully stretched was ten meters, body size puffed up to fifty centimeters in diameter and standing a meter above the ground. Its neck was spread out into a sheet the size of two palms sitting side by side. This was serious trouble but luckily enough it did not look like my funeral for now. It was striking at some  target none human but a croaking frog standing from its pointed fangs only a few meters away, also pumped up to an abnormal size; probably the size of a football. I quickly escaped from this strange confrontation between two competitive species and fled towards the throbbing drums. Their beats added some lovely tempo to the cool night ushering out the tired December month. I wanted a share of the funny the mischievous characters were busy brewing to grace the New Year’s Eve.

     The sight of a boni fire and the noise of excited fellow youths cleared the numbing fear of the horrible cobra from my mind; I was now in human company where hissing is not a prelude to a venomous attack.   Quietly I went near the drum to watch the dancers as a way of beginning the exciting adventure for the evening. It was like everyone was happy that in a few more hours life would add a few more funny from the New Year. Probably the other reason to be happy about was that of having the privilege to haul some undesirable rubbish from the previous year into the New Year without fear of punishment

     The dancing was superb and since I am not gay, female dancers attracted me more than their male counterparts; yes the girls shaking their dropping bottoms as if hopping to come and pick them in the New Year. And then, did my heart miss a bit? Oh! Yes it actually did. Missed three bits not one, why?

     Wondering around, my eyes had picked a young woman who was dancing shyly looking securely defended by a shield of loneliness. Her eyes darted about furtively as if she feared the eyelids would peel off if she kept them stationary. The white teeth, yes the white teeth made her angelic face light up every time she smiled in tune with the song playing. The teeth were a beautiful set of white bones set in their place with – rare-to- see architectural skill. She undulated the heavenly body as she dance walked; yes that body which defined her woman hood. It was her trade mark asset any man would gladly die for. What a body, even Naomi Campbell would drop her beautiful jaw in bewilderment if she saw the curves, the steps and the unforgettable smooth skin glittering in the pale yellow flame...

   Surprisingly she burst out laughing just when I was still wondering why on a day meant to dump December into the dustbin of history a person should be that coy. The laugh was a brazen taunt at the way a boy nearby was twisting his waist in a woeful attempt at dancing. Her earlier shield of fear would have made a romantic assault on her difficult on grounds of sentimentality. But this wanton mockery she heaped on another person threw open a door for others to breach hers as well, I included. The revulsion gave me some courage; I went for her jugular vein.

      “Hi! Enjoying the funny, Ha?”I greeted her while weaving a calculated dancing maneuver to get myself closer to her. Her grimacing face and shuddering body flinch clearly showed that she was not amused at all. Within a fraction of a second, the once upon a time demure damsel had fled to the other side of the circle stealing glances at me between dance steps as if she had seen her own venomous cobra also. But like all other mortals one of her organs had made a terrible mistake, intentional or otherwise. Her eyes.

       She was slightly tall, attractively brown with a beautiful face any man would willingly die for. Her oval face shot out a slightly hooked nose and a mouth drawn into a curved line; evidence that once again the maker had used the right materials on a woman. She was moderately fat and possessed luscious curves with steak in the right places. Her dancing though was nothing special but who cares about the way a beautiful girl dances? What wrecked my peace completely, no not completely but irreversibly was the way she twisted her eyes when looking at me. I would gladly walk through a path crawling with thousands of cobras just to be near this girl, but who was she and why did she snub me that fast?

      The venue for the Party, Masompe Hall located next to the giant Hanyaana Departmental Stores with a bar behind was crawling with drunkards; especially this evening, now that it was the festive season. The beat blasting the night away was cool and attractive to all mortals, what more those whose brains were swimming in the universal enemy of boredom; alcohol? In no time a horde of the drunken species honored the place with their royal presence, in fact they took over the whole place; grabbing the dance floor to both entertain and disgust with their drunken wiggling.

     One drunk felt the funny of dancing alone was not adequate to overturn his sour mood, a task which alcohol had woefully failed to do. He threw his glazy eyeballs around wickedly and whom did they fall on? My girl. Before she realized what was coming next, the ogre had engulfed her completely in his arms and was trying to help her suck alcohol from his stupid lips. Her eyes widened in disgusted fear while her arms were flailing about in a desperate attempt at self protection. Her desperate struggle catapulted me to action immediately.

       Extracting some antiquated karate skills from some armory, I expertly edged between man and girl to free the damsel .The act was so quick that the other guy was thunderstruck; eyes bulged like an owl wondering what had happened. Ignoring the trembling girl for now, I quickly hauled the man aside, away from gyrating mortals. I whispered into his stupefied brain the stupidity of his actions; attempting to molest a married woman, not just a taboo but also a deadly mistake. The shock of the words seemingly drained the alcohol-induced mischief from the man- he apologized and reconditioned his staggered dancing to include no petticoats this time.

        The girl stood there watching the little man – to -man chat, her eyes dancing to an indescribable tune and then dance-walked like someone fleeing to sit on the chairs in the daylight glare of the tiller lamps. Just then the song ended and the dancers walked back to their seats. I followed her closely– deliberately squeezing myself into a seat next to hers. This was convenient enough for me to renew my efforts at ingratiating myself to her. She danced her eyes about wickedly as she searched my face, but without answering. I tried to introduce myself with eyes that seemed to remind the girl that it was I who saved her from some drunk but she just stared at my hand as if it had leprosy.

        Terribly frustrated, I grabbed her hand and tried to force her to talk but still she ignored me though she let me hold the hand without fighting. She was just rolling her eyes like a fool on parade. Finally she turned her face into a grimace of disgust; an annoying way a girl pushes her refusal to a man’s face.            Presently, the second number started playing and the whole place stood up in a rush going to the dance floors like hurricane winds. I followed her and joined behind- dancing closely enough to warn other suitors whose girl she was. As we danced silently again I tried to chat her up, but to no avail.

        Then like a scheming ogre, the drunken man appeared again with his staggering walk and started looking at her as if he would succeed if he renewed his attack. She panicked with real fear in her eyes when their eyes met; she was thrown into fidgeting like an impala cornered by a lion. This time the girl looked at me meekly, in fact she even started talking to me kindly.

      “But who are you?”She asked turning her neck so close that I could smell her breath. “You must be the same like that man.”

    “I am a friend who seeks your company.” I replied. “What is your name?”

    “My name is Kapwi.” She said. “What about you?”

    “My name is MacKay.” I said. “You are nice; I have taken a fancy at you.”

     “Thanks,” she said with eyes still wide from fright. It is like the man had given her real creeps. “I appreciate your saving me from the drunk,”

     “Actually you don’t need to thank me,” I said. “I did it for my own selfish reasons.”

    When she was sure that the drunk was gone she immediately became hostile getting back to her cocoon but this time I could not allow her to shove me aside again. Finally she smiled at me; a deadly smile and said,

       “Look I am running away from one beast to fall into the arms of another probably more wicked.”

        “At least the present beast is civilized enough to ask, not just grab” I said with a smile as well. My badly corroded teeth did not do much grace to the situation. She creased her brow into a frown of rejection, but after much persuasion she more like saw things from my point of view. I cursed wildly as all hell just broke loose.

    She had turned to look at me with glazed eyes burning with lust when our little privacy was invaded by yet another drunken man who came our way cursing loudly. He was staggering and acting dangerously weird. And before either of us could predict his next moves vomit shot out from his mouth like a shower drenching kapwi’s dress and covering her face with regurgitated Nshima stuff. Presently Kapwi started wiping her face with a face towel .Agonising frustration shone clearly from her beautiful face.

     “Stupid fools fooling around at parties,” the drunk shouted coming closer; unrepentant for the indescribable indiscretion. “And I know you don’t even have condoms for the ungodly act you intend to do, uncivilized bastards.”

    “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded as I hastily unleashed a karate kick aimed at the broad chest of the drunkard.

The drunkard was not a push over, he parried my kick with his right hand while swinging his torso sideways in a ducking movement before zooming close to have an eye-ball to eye ball clink into my eyes. And then he started rolling up his sleeves. He also tossed off the cow hide sandals while praising himself;

    “My name is Bwalya, I am a Bemba success story not you Tonga bastards who use cow dung for perfume,” he cursed as he staggered to avoid another blow.

     I danced around like Bruce Lee; “I am proud of being a Tonga, different from you Bemba thieves children of witches.”

     The other Bembas watching the fight for some funny if nothing else were incensed by my insults. They mobilized themselves to join the fight; “How can this Tonga bull insult all of us Bembas even though we have not done him any wrong?”

    The place degenerated into a cyclone of madness until a group of militias calling themselves Boko Haram in Zambia (BOHAZ) arrived. The group was so notorious for violence that everyone fled the party and went into hiding. Drums were thrown about and all food spilled down to prevent their use by the enemy

      Bwalya was elated with their arrival; he immediately welcomed them with complaints. He spoke directly to the leader who was calling himself Colonel Death.

    “Colonel, I have a small problem,’ he said.

   “We Bembas are superior to all other tribes, why should you have trouble my brother?”

  “There is this Tonga …….,”he could not even finish because the colonel shouted him down.

  “I specially hate that tribe, Tongas eat cow dung. But then, where is that particular bastard?”

       I was a bit too slow in fleeing; the beasts caught me as I tried to walk away. With slaps and other forms of body abuse they brought me to face the leader of these thugs Colonel Death.

   “Cut off his head,” Colonel Death looked me up like a butcher man sizing a cow for pricing.

      As they swung a panga to cut my head, Bwalya came pulling Kapwi towards the group. She was trembling all over very terrified. “This is Mackay’s girl; he wanted to chop her minus a condom……,”

Colonel Death again sprang up coming into my face; ‘Is that true, you pig?”

     “Yes she is my girl,” I said. “If you are man enough lets fight for her in the ring; you and me. Don’t hide behind numbers.”

     “A stupid Tonga cannot have such a nice girl; Tongas should just sleep with their cattle,” Bwalya was complaining on the touchline.

    I was so angry that I blindly ignored the ubiquitous AK 47, the machetes and huge knives Boko Haram was brandishing. The sight of tears in Kapwi’s beautiful eyes drove me crazy. Colonel Death did not expect his prisoner to launch a desperate attack and he paid dearly for that.

    I grabbed a machete from a Boko Haram militant who had broken down laughing at a joke their leader had cracked. The poor boy tried to regain the weapon but received a blow that sent his head flying like a discarded pumpkin. He was still groaning when I hacked the colonel’s head as well.

   When I cut off Colonel Death’s head, his AK47 clattered to the ground. One man tried to pick it but I cut off his head quickly. I was now armed with a gun while my heart was tortured by hatred. A deadly combination.

   “ta.ta.ta.ta.t…” the gun spoke as I cut down the Boko Haram indiscriminately. I respected no raised hands in surrender until the place remained quiet.

  Bwalya was the last to die. He had stood behind a pot of Nshima trying to hide. His shag hair betrayed him. When I spotted him he flung his hands up wailing;

“Mackay please listen…..”

   I had no time to listen to anyone. My AK47 spoke hurriedly ripping his chest with six bullets before he collapsed like a log. He was still jerking when I pumped three more bullets into his head to end his villainous life.

    “Stop now let’s go home,” a voice startled me from behind. I swung round the automatic already spitting bullets. I kept the finger pressed on the trigger firing but the sight of the person I was shooting at made me shout in alarm.

     “Darling! I am terribly sorry,” in my zeal I had forgotten all about Kapwi. The hail of bullets ripped through her shoulder but missed the critical areas because she collapsed fast. Her bleeding was a horrible sight. I cut off my shirt and bandaged her wound and by now she had fainted.

    I got afresh magazine from Colonel Death and shot the dead militias again in anger. My hope was to kill the thugs a second time.