The Victim by Aishat Elusogbon

The journey was going very smoothly; there was no traffic, the weather was comfortable and we weren't even stopped by a corrupt uniformed man on the road. It seemed like nothing could go wrong.

If only I knew.

I'd already made an acquaintance; a Muslim just like me. Her name was Hajaroh, and we were both going to school. Only that while I was going to OAU, she was going to Oduduwa University.

She seemed very enthusiastic about having a discussion with me, but I was rather uninterested. Not that there was any problem with her. Far from it, she was a very nice and likeable person. It's just that, I am not really a fan of talking, to people I know and people I don't. I prefer to keep quiet, watch and listen. It has saved me from a lot of trouble several times.

But, it gets me into trouble too.

I sat by the window in the first row behind the driver's seat, silently studying the environment and at the same time listening to the excited conversations between the remaining occupants of the eighteen seater bus.

It wasn't a quiet journey, much to my distaste. It seemed like everyone had found someone to converse with. I don't think there was anyone, except me, who was occupied with him or herself; not even the driver, who had made friends with the two young men who sat beside him at the front.

That's why I said that it seemed like nothing could go wrong.

I have no idea where we were when it happened, because there was no signboard or anything of recognition there. It was an express road surrounded by bushes, and it was deserted. But it was still daytime, around 3:00PM.

The men came out of those seemingly harmless bushes, all in black, all masked, all carrying guns.

Screams and prayers exploded from everyone in the bus. I was too shocked to do anything. I could only stare in total fear as the men surrounded the bus and ordered that we come down.

The door was opened, I don't know by whom, and we all came out slowly. One of the men had ordered that no one should scream; not only because no one could hear us but also because he wouldn't hesitate the "keep" a bullet in the brain of anyone who defied this order.

"Lie down flat!" One of them shouted.

Everyone hastened to comply. I found myself in the middle of two weeping women; one was an old woman, and the other was Hajaroh.

I lay there, shaking inwardly and outwardly as the men brought out all the bags in the back of the bus. Seeing them do that made me swallow back a sob; my upkeep money was in there.

"Oya, make una open your ear!" Another shouted. "I go come meet you one by one, and una go drop every single naira wey you get for body!"

Several of the passengers screamed, and he fired a bullet in the air. Immediately, all the screams subsided into whimpers.

For me, his audacity in doing that confirmed his colleague's earlier assertion that no one was around to help us. They'd quite obviously made sure of that.

"If I hear pim!" The guy said, pointing the gun to the woman beside me.

"Blood of Jesus! Blood of Jesus!" She whispered fervently, covering her head with both hands.

We were lying on the ground in what seemed like a row. And as promised, the guy began to come to us one by one, holding a huge sack in his hands. He began from my left, and I looked up carefully to watch as each passenger stood up when it was his or her turn to demoney him or herself. On the other hand, the other guys busied themselves with demoneying the luggage they'd brought out of the bus.

"Look down!" Hajaroh, who'd been reciting Ayatul-Kursiyy all this while, suddenly cautioned me with a slight tap on my leg.

"Hey you!" One of the men said, approaching us.

I quickly placed my face on the ground.

"Wetin you dey give am?!" He asked Hajaroh.

"Nothing." Hajaroh replied bluntly, not sounding in the least bit scared.

"You dey mad?! I dey follow you talk and you dey…"

"Guy, free the girl." Came a deep slow lazy voice.

I couldn't see, but the authority with which he spoke made me conclude that he was the leader.

I wasn't wrong.

"Oga, I see am …."

"I talk say make you free am. You dey ment?!"

I closed my eyes and waited, then heard him walk away.

"No vex oga."

He didn't reply.

As the man collecting the money came closer, I began to shake even harder. I was terrified out of my senses, and I was very distressed about the aftermath of this robbery. I had nothing else to live on. Every single penny I had was on me and in the bag.

By the time it was my turn, there was tears in my eyes.

Slowly, I stood up and dusted the sand off my clothes. Then dipped my had in my pocket, brought out a wad of cash and dropped it in the sack.

As he'd done for the rest, he asked. "Is that all?"

Actually, what he'd done for the rest was more than just that. He'd searched them even after getting their reply.

The reason for his pausing after his question came immediately.

He smiled at me and said. "Me I no wan touch you. I hear say na Haram abi wetin them dey call am." He laughed. "My mama na Muslim, but I no gree go ile léwu. But I know say I no suppose touch you. So talk true, You still get money for your hand?"

I swallowed and bent my head, not knowing what to say. The fact was, I still had money on me, and it was in a place he most likely won't see it even if he searched. But should I give it up?

The normal answer was staring at me in the face. Of course not! Why in the world would I ever do that?! The hidden money was meagre compared to what they had and still will take. So why in the world would I give my money up?

But I couldn't bring myself to say no.

The story of Imam Abdul-Qādir Al-Jaylāni, who was attacked by robbers while on a journey, came to my mind. However, I was reminded that this was real life, not a story. Saying the "truth" wouldn't make the robbers take the Shahadah. 

Then I was also reminded that though it might have been a story, it was a factual story, not a fictional one.

I groaned and closed my eyes as the battle between wisdom and truth continued to ensue in my mind.

"Alhaja!" 

I opened my eyes and stared at his now annoyed face.

Without thinking, I bent my head and shook it.

"Money still dey?"

I nodded, tears falling from my eyes as I swallowed.

I could hear the grin in his voice as he said, "Oya, submit am."

I swallowed again, aware of the eyes of the remaining passengers which bore into my skin. I can imagine their shock and disbelief at my actions. And despite feeling ashamed, scared disappointed and foolish at the same time, I reached into my socks and pulled out another wad of notes.

An amused and satisfied whistle escaped from the man's lips as he watched me drop the money into the sack.

"Is that all?" He asked, smiling at me as though he was enjoying my obvious distress.

More tears flowed down my cheeks as I shook my head sadly, and he ordered me to submit them too.

Fighting back a sob, I put my hand into my right sleeve and brought out a much smaller bundle.

"Finish?"

I shook my head.

"Submit."

I headed for my box slowly and, ignoring the raging battle of wills going on in my head, tearfully brought out the hidden money.

"Finish?"

I couldn't speak. I only bit my lip and nodded as more tears continued to fall.

"Good girl." He said with a taunting grin and went to the next person, Hajaroh.

I stood there quietly sobbing for several seconds before another man ordered that I "Lie down for ground!"

As I proceeded to obey, a familiar deep lazy voice pressed the freeze button on my descent with the word, "Wait."

I stood straight slowly and, as is my habit, wondered at how he managed to drag his words, sound sleepy and still sound authoritative at the same time.

I turned to look at him, and saw him sitting on the passenger's seat at the front with his legs dangling outside. He sat in a commanding position, smoking a cigar as he studied me.

He jumped down from the bus, gave his cigarette to the man beside him and approached me slowly.

I swallowed.

I'm sure it took him nothing less than thirty seconds for him to finish the journey from the bus to where I stood. And when he did come up close, I swallowed again at how huge he was.

Terrified, I lowered my gaze, feeling fresh tears fall at the remembrance of all I had lost in the past five minutes.

He stood before me for about ten tense seconds before he asked.

"Why?"

I didn't reply. 

I didn't look up. 

I continued to shed silent tears.

"You no fit talk?!" Another man shouted at me so suddenly that I jumped and looked up.

The leader turned slowly to him, and growled. "Guy, you dey mad?! Na you I dey follow talk?!"

"Oga, no vex. She no wan answer you and…"

"I send you message?"

He kept mute and bent his head.

"Answer me na!"

"No, oga. No vex." He said solemnly.

The leader turned back to me, and my eyes returned to the ground.

"Why?" He asked again.

I didn't speak. No because I didn't want to but because I couldn't. A lot of conflicting emotions were engulfing me at that moment, so I just found it difficult to form a reply, let alone force them out.

He then crossed his arms around his chest, tilted his head to one side and regarded me silently as he asked. "Your name?"

I still didn't…. couldn't reply.

He stared at my bent head for several agonizingly silent seconds before he turned back to his men. "Pana,"

"Boss!" The one who had collected the money from us passengers replied.

"You don mix all the money?"

"Yes boss."

"Bring the bag come."

He dutifully obeyed.

At that point, I had to look up.

The leader collected the sack from him, turned to me.

"How much did you drop all together?"

Once again, I was robbed of the power of speech. Firstly, by his abrupt switch to a fluent unaccented English. And secondly, by the obvious reason for his question.

"How much?" He asked gently, not sounding in the least impatient at my hesitance.

I found my voice about five seconds later. "Twenty thousand Naira."

And before my startled eyes, he began to count some notes from the bag.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw his men stare at him in disbelief. But obviously, none dared to object.

When he was done, he handed me the notes.

I hesitated.

"Take it." He said calmly.

I stretched forth a shaking hand and collected the money.

"Which bag is yours?"

I used the other shaking hand to point to my black travelling bag.

"Go and take it."

I swallowed and proceeded to do so.

"Oga." One of the robbers called. "You sure say na her bag be that? She fit dey lie like that o."

He grinned. "Person wey commot all the money wey dey her body go con lie on top bag." He shook his head pitifully. "You be idiot. Shift back."

I decided not to look at the man in question and just headed for my bag, lest his glare scared me from obeying his boss's order. Then I zipped up the bag and pulled it away from the booth.

"Is that the only one?" 

English again. I couldn't help but notice.

I shook my head in reply.

"Take everything that belongs to you in the bus."

I dropped my travelling box and stared fearfully at the men who blocked the entrance of the bus.

The leader understood.

"Guys, clear road for am."

The robbers looked shocked again, but they obeyed slowly.

I dragged my terrified feet to the side of the bus, got in, picked up my hand bag and got out, feeling the eyes of the five other robbers following my every move.

I walked over to where my travelling box stood.

"Now," The leader said to me, "You see that road?" He pointed to the route from which we'd come. "Just keep walking that way. Keep walking and don't look back. Take your things with you and leave."

I swallowed, tears filling my eyes again as the consequence of his words hit me.

"Do you understand my instruction?"

I nodded slowly.

"Now go."

And I went.

Slowly, I dragged my feet and bags down the route he'd pointed to earlier, wondering if I would feel the bullet as it entered my skull.

Resigned, I began to recite my Kelimatul-Shahadah as I walked. If I was to die, I had to have those on my tongue.

About twenty metres later, I was still alive.

I felt the urge to look back, but I didn't dare. I kept walking, feeling the eyes of every single robber and passenger on my back. The feeling was uncomfortable. But the fact that I could feel it meant that I was alive, so I kept going.

About a hundred metres away, I was sure that I'd removed myself from their view. That was when I realised just what his intentions had been.

Even as I was sure that I was out of their sight, I didn't look back. I was so exhausted, so terrified, so shocked, so confused, so grateful, so relieved.

I continued to walk. I didn't stop. Not when my muscles screamed in pain and certainly not when my legs began to ache. I just kept walking.

Then I heard the gunshots.

I stopped, unconsciously counting them. Eighteen in all. 

The handbag and travelling bag dropped from my hands as tears began to fill my eyes.

Eighteen shots for seventeen passengers and a driver; I was supposed to be nineteen.

Unable to hold myself, I dropped to the ground and wept.