ZARA
Zara was a thorn in the flesh. I learnt that she wasn’t an approachable individual, that she was harsh and usually insulted other colleagues occasionally.
Once, I was told that she was involved in a fight with one Mr. Robinson, a high-ranking officer in the organization where I worked in. The fight had taken place a few weeks before I was employed, and I also got to know that she had gone home that fateful day with a swollen face.
“That day was something else,”
Mr.Obiora, one of my colleagues said to me. We sat around my table; my laptop facing me; while we talked.
“It was even recorded” he added.
“You mean she fights?”
“Ha, you needed to see Mr Robinson’s clothes that day; all torn and in a sorry state”
“Didn’t they relieve her of her job?” I asked with more curiosity and surprise.
“Shhhh!” The expression on his face indicated that I wasn’t meant to say such and that I should never say such again.
Mr Obiora quickly scanned the surroundings and then heaved a sigh of relief when he realized that no other staff was present.
“She is related to the owner of this branch?” He said to me, lowering his voice a bit. I shook my head in surprise;
“Really?”
“Yes, she’s the daughter of a big man, a retired general”
“Ah, no wonder na” I squeezed my face. “That’s why we can never move forward in this country”
“My brother no be small thing; Infact she has been reported several times to the Management, but they’ve done nothing,” he said.
“As expected na; she’s a lady who’s father is a big man,” I said with a scornful expression.
Soon, he left me and went back to his desk to continue his work. I tried to focus on my laptop; trying to picture the notorious Zara in my head; never ceasing to wonder how a woman would devote her whole life to fighting.
———————————————————————-
The first time Zara looked me straight in the eyes, I knew that she wanted something else; something more than just knowing each other. I was 25 years of age and had recently been employed to work in the Nigerian immigration services branch in my area. That morning, she spoke to me with all calmness and gentleness that I had to sit and ask myself if she was the same Zara whom Mr. Obiora had told me about; the other day. She was beautiful and whenever she stared at me, I couldn’t help but stare away.
I don’t know how we got so close, but it just happened; unexpectedly. In a short while, my fear and curiosity about Zara were replaced with love and more love; or maybe I thought it was love.
It wasn’t long before Mr. Obiora stepped in. He was doing that for me because he was my close friend and wanted the best for me; but I was too blind to see it coming. One day he came over to my desk where I was working. It was unlike him to come at such a busy hour.
If Mr Obiora wanted us to talk, he would come during the break period or when it was almost time to close for work. Today he came in and sat down with a straight face. I took in a deep breath and waited for the worst to happen.
“Johnson, do you want to put yourself in trouble?”
“Trouble? What do you mean, Mr. Obiora”
“You joined us barely a month ago, and you’re already doing things with that devil whom I warned you about” He said in a low tune.
Well, to start with, I wondered why he called her a devil, and secondly, I felt like they must have been the ones provoking Zara all these while, for her to be so harsh on them. I tried to defend her by telling him how good she was, or I thought her to be, and by time we had finished the discussion, he left without saying a word to me.
He never said a word to me till the day reality set in.
I was a reserved young man, friendly but not social. When it came to temperament, I was hot-tempered and could say things which I didn’t mean.
On several occasions, I’d tried to restrain myself from saying bad words to people whenever I was pushed to the wall, but then I found it hard to hold them back. When I meant bad words, I meant bad words like YOU DESERVE TO BE STONED TO DEATH.
Since the beginning of my stay at the immigration office, I’d never been provoked or annoyed by anyone. And for a month now, it had always been smiles, work, a serene environment and fewer to no-shows from Zara my Lover and colleague too. I felt happy when I discovered that our relationship was calming her nerves; she seemed to be so cheerful as the days went by. I concluded that everything I’d heard about her, were lies.
After the close of work in the evenings, we would hang out at a particular restaurant not too far from her apartment. I would first drive her home, and wait for her in front of her one-room apartment to change into a causal cloth.
Then after the hangout, and once it was dark, I’d drop her in front of her doorstep, and drive down to my apartment in my car. It was sweet; such experiences were lovely; I was on top of the world; or I felt like.
Some time later she finally brought out the devil in me. One thing I disliked about Zara, was her ungratefulness. At some point, she kept complaining every day.
One night, as we chatted via WhatsApp, she started by asking me why I was a stingy person. I thought it was a joke, but then she dropped a provoking voice note about two minutes long, telling me how she was tired of our regular outings to the same restaurant always. She told me that she was expecting me to have bought her more gifts by then; she told me how she was expecting her wardrobes to be filled with new clothes from me, and then she ended by saying that her ex-boyfriend was better than me by far.
I was surprised that I didn’t reply to her over the phone immediately. I planned to talk to her the next day at work. That night, I slept in anger.
—————————————————————————-
“I will kill you!” I said to Zara the next day, as she walked out of the general staff office; Everyone gasped in shock and fear.
We had entered a heated argument which had drawn the attention of other workers; it was a continuation of our chat last night via WhatsApp.
“Who do you think you are!!?” She had asked me, raising her voice amidst murmurings from everyone who watched the scene. She had moved forward and grabbed my shirt; she twisted it so tightly that the three top buttons got broken and fell to the floor. I watched in shock as she pushed me away and I almost fell to the floor. While I battled to maintain composure and steeze, she ran and gave me a hot slap.
“You’re a shameless big fool!” She said to me, then she spat on me and turned to leave.
As I rested against a desk which had saved me from falling, a lot of things crossed my mind; whether to deal with her, whether to Let her go, whether to apologize.
Apologize? I quickly cancelled the thought of ever apologizing to her. While my rage boiled within, I thought of what to say to her as she moved towards the door, and then I let it out.
“I will kill you!” I voiced out amidst the quietness that enveloped the room. Everyone paused and gasped in shock. Zara stopped and turned to look at me, then she laughed and left.
Somes seconds later, I wished I’d remained silent. Everyone fixed their gazes on me, and for the first time in my life I felt like a Murderer.
Mr. Obiora sat on his desk looking at me with disappointment. The expression on his face was that of “DID I NOT WARN YOU?”
He hadn’t talked to me since the last time we had the heated conversation about Zara.
That evening, I left work quietly and drove down to my apartment. As I drove down home I was silent; it was sadness, anger, resentment, that enveloped me. At night I couldn’t sleep.
Surprisingly, I saw myself calling her number, but her phone rang and rang and she didn’t pick up. I sent a text message to her; FORGIVE ME FOR BEING RUDE, I DIDN’T MEAN TO SAY THOSE WORDS. But there was no response. I knew it was foolish of me to do so, but I just felt like it was the right thing to do. Well, after ringing her line twenty-four times with no reply, I slept off.
————————————————————————
The next morning, I learnt that Zara was dead; her corpse had been found in the restroom where she had been stabbed severely. Her blood-stained jacket was also found on my table, which made me a prime suspect. I became so scared as I walked into the general staff room amidst shouts of scorn and rejection.
Questions like “So you’re actually a killer?”, “So this is who you are?” all rented the air, as I walked into the staff room that morning. I looked at the jacket which lay on my table; it was stained with blood; and a tag was pinned to its breast pocket. It belonged to Zara.
The last time I’d seen Zara was when our quarrel had ended the previous day. I can still remember that after the heated argument, I quickly left for my house. I wondered who could have done this to her; when and how she could have been killed within a space of twelve hours after we’d dialogued. I moved to the restroom to see for myself.
All I could see was blood, on the floor and partly on the walls too. It seemed like she had been stabbed after a lot of unsuccessful struggles to break free. I wept, yes I wept at the spot and cursed whoever had done such. Zara’s body wasn’t in the restroom anymore, the corpse had been taken away, and from the general office to the restroom and back to the office, everyone who saw me walking around in a confused state kept staring at me with fear and shock.
“Please tell me you didn’t do this?” Mr. John another of my colleagues asked me when I was back to the general office; he was an emotional man and this wasn’t his first time crying in front of me. Before I could say anything, he broke down into tears and soon he was rolling on the floor. That was his nature; being unnecessarily dramatic, both for little and big things. The surge to kick him on his butt, welled up inside me.
I shook my head; I was still panicking, I knew I was, I could feel it. “You have to believe me, I didn’t do this,” I said to the dramatic man on the floor. I knew he heard none of what I said; his cries were louder than my voice.
“Please where is the corpse?” I managed to ask. But there was no response; everyone just stared at me from the various spots where they stood; maintaining a clear distance between themselves and me.
I walked down to Mr. Obiora’s desk. He sat and acted like he didn’t know what had happened. I understood the message. I had been so stupid after all.
“Please who did this to her?” I asked
“No one knows; all hands are pointing towards you since you both had a disagreement yesterday evening,” he said.
Not long, some vehicles with uniformed army officers, drove into the compound. Reality had finally set in.
I watched through the window as the uniformed men made their way into the general office where I and other colleagues were.
“He’s the one”, A staff pointed at me. Everything still looked like a dream to me until I was brought back to consciousness when a heavy object landed on my head. One of the Army officers had hit me with the butt of his heavy loaded gun. They dealt me blows and brushed me to the floor. One of them made to pull off my brown jacket while another kicked me hard on my stomach till I began to vomit blood.
I called on Mr. Obiora to help me out, but he sat still, facing his laptop as if nothing had happened.
The uniformed men tied me up and carried me away. I’d been arrested by the order of Zara’s father.
————————————————————————
I opened my eyes to behold a hefty old man sitting in front of me.
“You finally fulfilled your promise by taking the life of Zara” he said; it was Zara’s dad. I was surprised that he started calmly. Every other parent would have started exhibiting madness on sighting the killer or the suspected killer.
Anyways, I couldn’t talk; a piece of clothing had been tied over my mouth. All I could do was shake my head in a disapproving manner; protesting my innocence as best as possible.
If only he could let me talk; I silently prayed.
“You still have the guts to lie,” He said and gave me a thunderous slap. His voice sounded like he was trying to hold back his tears.
“You’ll pay for this with the last drop of blood in your body” he said. He bent down and swore before me.
That was the last conscious scene which I witnessed before I was tortured to unconsciousness.
One of the guards brought out his rifle, corked it and pointed it towards me. He muttered something strange to my ears before releasing the bullet
“May God forgive you, Mr. Robinson”
And he released it.
———————————————————————
(To be continued…)
Comments
Post a Comment