A life like his...

Life isn't easy in Monrovia. From the dusty red roads to the crumbling mud hostels on the side of the crowded footpaths. The polluted sky has a foul stench of rotten eggs and acrid burning, the sound of cheap cars honking at each other fills the air and I wonder if the whole world is like this. My uncle Moses once told me about his travels to the lush French island of Réunion. He told me it was full of palm trees and perfect, fine, white sand that lay under the dazzling rays of the sun. He told me about the cyan and sapphire waves that crashed against the shore and that everyone was nice there, there was never any danger, people were well paid and it never rained. I live there in my dreams.

I hear a baby cry. Perhaps it doesn't have enough food and water. Water is hard to come by in this desolate part of Liberia and when you do get it, it is dirty and polluted. In some parts even a murky brown. As I walk through the streets in the searing heat, I hear gunshots in the distance and though I hate to admit it, this is normal. It happens all the time and many people get hurt.

I finally reach my lonely dwelling, a crumbling housing block riddled with bullet holes and grime. Rats crawl around the floors, diving under the rotted floorboards and climbing up the sagging walls. It is one of the worst areas of the city, a ghetto in a ghetto in a way. I lie down on my thin mattress that is gangrenous with lice and age. More so lice than age though, and manage to catch a few hours of precious sleep.

I am already half way to work when the sun peeks its head over the polluted horizon. I work at some obsure Indian diner as a waiter and I can’t say it pays me well. A few dollars a day a most, depending on my boss's mood. Barely enough to feed me, let alone pay my rent. My uncle told me that where he used to live some people got paid much more that I earn in my wildest dreams. Definitely more tan a few dollars. A few hours and a lot of curry later, my life changes completely. Perhaps for the better, probably for the worse. My shift ends and I take a small break. There isn't really a staff area in the restaurant, so I squat in my usual spot at the back of the kitchen and take a long swig of water, trying not to be phased by the abnormal bugs crawling on the walls. I decide to take a nap, which isn't hard considering the amount I sleep per night.

A piercing scream awakes me from my slumber. I follow the sound and it leads me to the decayed bathrooms. As I open the door I see an ocean of scarlet blood on the floor, all my instincts tell me to run but I feel a need to see what is going on. I enter and see a man lying motionless on the floor, another, still alive, leans against the wall. His gray eyes wild and a gun in his hand. I am rooted in shock. He looks around the room as if searching for something and before I know what is happened, I have been pushed into the blood and the man is gone.

I am still standing there when my boss comes in and, I already know what he’s thinking.

“Oh good lord, what have you done!” he whimpers, his arms at the ready.

“He went that way! This wasn't me, I promise,”I stammer.

“I thought I knew you, you were an innocent young man but now, now I see the darker side in you. I'm keeping you in here until the cops arrive."

So I run. Shoving him out of the way, I sprint out of the restaurant and onto the high street. This morning I walked this pavement a free man, now, every time I hear a siren my heart will beat a little faster. I am on the run.

A few hours later, I run past another derelict pub and pear through the tarnished windows, scouring for my name on the ancient TV. Even if only for a split second, I swear I see it. I imagine the crime tape around that obscure Indian restaurant, now a little bit more known. Should I get out of the country? I wouldn't be any better off. There is nothing left for me here and yet, in a sense there never has been. A single tear trickles down my grimy face.

I am still walking when the sun goes down and, just as I fear, my back lights up with icy blue and crimson lights and I hear car doors open.

“Get on the ground and put your hands behind your back!” a voice shouts in the distance.

I hear hurried footsteps approaching and I'm thrown on the hard concrete, metal cuffs ripping into my skin. This is the end. As the truck starts up I feel my freedom slowly getting ripped away from me. My life wasn't meant to turn out like this, I am being tossed around like I am someone’s property. I think of my old boss with remorse.

The police truck comes to a halt and I think of my home. I had a home, a life and perhaps even a future, now I have nothing. Oh gosh, I am going to be in prison a long time. I get yanked out of the truck and my eyes lay on a freshly painted metal building encircled by haunting barbed wire.

“Welcome to the your new home. You've been a bad boy haven't you, have fun digging yourself out of this grave," says a security guard, an infuriating grin on his worn down face.

I don’t object. I don’t have the energy, here I am, helpless. Making enemies won't do anything except land me in solitary confinement, or dead. They drag me past army personnel in dark green commando uniforms, carrying threatening rifles. Their eyes pierce my weak soul like a dagger and I imagine the bullets from their guns hitting me. What have I done to deserve this?

Time goes by slower than anything I've ever imagined but somehow, weeks go by and day by day, I am getting thinner, day by day I look less like myself and more like a stranger stuck in hell on Earth.

Day number 23. My tally chart states that it's been a few weeks but to be honest, it's felt like months. It's been dismal but I've ended up always having at least one plate of food a day. Even if it tastes like slop and is slop. An overwhelming sense of despair travels through my aching limbs and as the monotonous, dreary days pass by. I feel destitute, then melancholy, enraged, and then finally dazed. Furthermore, I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting towards uncle Moses. Maybe he has connections in the police, has heard about my arrest and is on his way to save me...

One day, I am lying in my room daydreaming about all the different possible outcomes that could have happened on that faithless day when a jangle of keys gives way to a stern looking prison guard. Three more uniformed policemen follow, pursued by kevlar clad swats. They arrange themselves into what seems like a well rehearsed position, with half of them blocking the doorway, and the other just staring at me like I am some alien species. I don’t really blame them, I am as thin as a reed and as filthy as a neglected alleyway littered with grime. Then to my surprise, the half at the door part from their posts and a patriotic and distinguished looking general walks in. “Good morning!” he says, “Come with me."

“I don't exactly have a choise, do I,” I impotently say.

“Be quiet."

We walk down a series of dimly lit corridors, their cold, gray walls reflecting the hopelessness that I feel. My mind is racing, considering the possibilities of what my future could hold ... none of them feel good. My eyes focus on a white, metal door that lies slightly ajar in front of me. The room it guards is sterile, windowless and the sound of the buzzing slightly broken aircon unit echoes on each of the undecorated walls. In it, is the last person on Earth that I expect to see, a figure of hope in a world of darkness … Uncle Moses.

Before I can cry out in confusion, the general sits down next to him and beckons me a seat.

“You, aren’t here for murder,” he said finally, “not anymore."

“What…how?” I say. The words he utters are the very ones I’ve been yearning to hear all these weeks and yet, they take me by surprise. I look over at Uncle Moses.

"Moses, I can't believe ... are you real?"

“We have reason to suspect that you are innocent. That there was another man, a murderer. We also have reason to believe that this man is on a much bigger scale than just murder, that he is part of a syndicate that is involved in it all."

“Why kill a man in a public place though, why risk it?” I say.

Uncle Moses chips in, a serious and reserved look on that face I’ve dreamt about for all those long days.

“Maybe he knew too much and was about to talk. There are numerous possibilities about what could have happened but one thing we know for sure. This wasn’t just a simple killing, this whole situation that you’ve been put in is a part of much higher dealing.

“So, you have two choices. Either you rot in here like a dog, surviving on threads of hope that one way or another will die out or, you help us," says the general.

“Help me how?” I ask.

“Well, if you choose rightly, in my view at least. You will be released, you will seep back into the society that you once called yours. And you will wait. One day they’ll come for you, and when they do, we’ll be watching. The choice is yours and you have roughly ten minutes to make it."

The End