Subsidy Removal 2

Papa Ema returned home in the early hours of the morning. His family and some neighbours who stayed back in his house were up, waiting. The electricity was still out and the light from the lamp on the table was dim and flapping because the kerosene was drying up. The Men stood outside all night waiting for his return while the women and children stayed in the house. In the densely populated area where they live, armed robbers operate erratically and most residents would be locked up in their homes behind bars of iron serving as burglary proof. No one dared to stand outside unless he had a death wish. However, the dire situation they found themselves in, as a result of the information they received from the police some hours back, caused them  to care less for their safety.  Papa Ema walked past the men outside his house like a Zombie. He walked like that  all the way home from where the police dropped him Miles from his home.  They blamed the poor state of the roads in the slum, claiming that the bumps and potholes on the road would damage the shock absorbers of the Peugeot 406 they used as their patrol car. Sighting her husband enter the house, Mama Ema looked at him with hope, even though her Faith was failing her. She saw Emabong tuck her ID card into her handbag that morning. she wonders in a flash, “It could be a mistaken identity; she could have possibly dropped her bag making a run from the bullets”.

Puffy eyes, obviously from crying stare at him. Beads of sweat formed on the foreheads of the people inside trickled down their faces. It was hot in the house, even though the windows and curtains were up. The area was congested, houses were built too close together, the reason they needed electricity to power their Fans since they were not getting any natural air. Then again they suffered more from power shortage than less congested areas. Papa Ema’s mouth moved, he was trying to speak, but he couldn’t. His mouth twitched violently, almost like he was having a seizure then he blurted out words so sharp that could pierce a heart and divide it into two “Emabong Dead” that was all he muttered.

The house shook to its foundation as the people in it burst out crying almost screaming  their lungs out. “Emabong dead” Mama Ema said in disbelief- now that it was certain, it felt unreal. Vivid pictures of the last moments with her daughter relayed in her mind’s eye. She became a spectator of the debacle that went down between her and Emabong the morning she left the house. She traced the images and voices to the point she was held back by Mama Lele, and then she stood watching Ema walk away without looking back to say goodbye. Her words “If you leave make sure you don’t return here," reverberated loudly, ripping her heart with pain.  She screamed, then she collapsed.

Mama Ema woke up hours later on her bed at home with her children sleeping by her side and on the floor. The sense of sorrow enveloped the house; she hears movement around with people talking and some crying. Still feeling drowsy she remains in bed, sobbing quietly. She’s never felt so much pain before-pain she can never wish on anyone, not even to her enemy. Her daughter, Ini hears her cry and sits up looking at her “Mama, are you hungry, there is plenty of food in the house,”

“No, I am not hungry Ini.”   

 “So why are you crying? Since you people started crying people have been coming to the house with food”. Her Mama looked at her, unable to reply. Ini didn’t understand much of what was happening, she would explain to her, but at that moment she too needed  explanations.

“What about you Ini have you eaten?”

“Yes, Mama.  I am the only one who has eaten”. You, papa and my brothers haven’t.

By evening, the  news of Emabong’s passing had spread like wildfire. Family friends and relatives began trooping into the residents of the Issongs. The student union of her university along with some of Emabongs classmates and friends also arrived to sympathise with her family. As weak as her mother was she had to go to the sitting room to receive visitors, Papa Ema and the men were seated outside of the house. Amara, Emabongs best friend for many years and well known to the family, knelt by Mama Ema, she said “I was supposed to meet Embong that morning; she got there earlier than the rest of us and was way ahead of us.She was part of the people that formed the front line of the procession. We agreed to meet when we returned to the takeoff point. But the soldiers arrived and about 9:15 am the guns went off and we all dispersed. After we had scrambled to safety, we called Ema’s number severally but she didn’t answer until it became unreachable. I never imagined Emabong got shot,” she  cried and Mama Ema cried too.

Two days after Emabong was killed, she was laid to rest. Questions about her death lingered in the minds of her family, friends and a lot of others. There were too many questions and yet no answers coming forth. It was frustrating, particularly for her Family because they didn’t know where to get answers from. The police weren’t helpful -Papa Ema went to the police station right after the burial to ask for Ema’s belongings because that’s where they must have gotten her ID card from though none of her possessions was released to them with her body. He was sent off with nothing. “The police is your friend they say until they turn out to be your worst enemy!” Papa Ema pondered.

Unabated by the killings, the protests continued. The government, relentless on reversing their decision on fuel price stayed mute. About the irreplaceable damage the trigger happy police officers had caused in some families, the government stayed mute too. Also Despite campaigns by the government on the benefits of subsidy removal on petroleum products, Ranging from the development of some sectors of the economy to job creation, road construction and many more, the protests grew bigger. They did not believe that the government that had proved to be irresponsible and extravagant, over and over again, in the management of public funds could set up a body that would effectively manage money accrued from the removal of subsidy on petroleum products.

The electricity came back on in the evening of the burial. As usual, the current very low barely able to power their television. The residents of the area were fine with it; they would make do with it. It is by far better than nothing. Effiong Switched on the television in the living room, “Put the news channel on” Papa Ema told him. They had been aware that some news channels covered Emabongs funeral, at that time too grieved to bother. They sat in silence as the newscaster read the news “one of the six slain two days ago, protesting in front of the ministry of petroleum resources against the removal of subsidy on petrol, Emabong Issong, 20years, was buried earlier today. Speaking at the funeral, her father MR Issong had this to say”

“Unlike when you lose a spouse, parents, there is no word to describe a parent who loses a child, because there is no word to describe the kind of pain I feel right now.…………..”

The newscaster then introduced the next news “a new video has emerged of the last moments of the slain protesters. Sources reaching us said the video was uploaded on YouTube on the account of one of the injured protesters John Umoh. He was shot twice, once in the arm and leg. He is said to be recovering at the university teaching hospital”. After the video was aired the residence of the Issong’s erupted with crying. Their wounds were opened afresh. Seeing Emabong at the front of the procession holding high her placard that read “No! No! No! To subsidy Removal”, chanting “we won’t agree oh, we won’t agree, subsidy that’s what we want.” The camera then turned to the police as six of them jumped down from the dark blue Hilux truck with machine guns on hand. The police announced “Clear off now” but the crowd kept marching forward and chanting. They announced again “Last warning. Everyone clear off” this time pointing their guns at the crowd. The crowd appeared to reduce their pace and singing but kept moving. Then the  police blazed off their guns. The video becomes unsteady from rapid movement but the voices remain audible. People scramble for their lives with bullets from the Machine gun flying into the crowd, hitting some and they drop to the ground. “Emabong, Emabong, Emabong,” a male voice called out before he went silent, shortly after the shooting stopped.

Homes across the country watch as the firing squad style execution was meted out on unarmed, peaceful protesters. A variety of Emotions spawned from the minds of people- fear, hopelessness, anger, betrayal- The government, they elected to protect them had turned to desecrate and reduce them to animals by slaughtering them at will. 

Amara sat by the Television in her home watching the news. The name John Umoh took her back to the conversations she and Emabong had recently. Ema spoke about him a lot, she met him recently and they were fond of each other. In fact, he was her new boyfriend. Emabong always talked about her best friend meeting her boyfriend, but she didn’t say he will be coming along that day; she probably wanted to surprise her. Her thought was interrupted by the voice of the police spokesperson “For the last week and a half we watch these protesters build up every day being a nuisance on the streets, keeping willing workers away from their offices, harassing business owners to keep their businesses shut thereby shutting down the economy gradually. Tomorrow the riot police will be on the streets anyone caught moving around aimlessly will be arrested.”  “Or shot” Amara added. “We have not come this far to back down now. It’s either the subsidy is restored or protests continue,” She paused, sighed and then continued. “Your death will not be in vain Emabong.”