Story 7: Dribble de Zagidibogidi

"He who molds your head (like a waterpot) is the one who can break it." Akan proverb

He calmly bore his rage as he sat at the back of the taxi. C'mon, control. You are nearly there. He fingered the knife in his bag. It was razor-sharp, just the right condition he wanted for the job at hand. Served cold, it was sweetest. Payback.

What a boyish face. He looked at the new guy who was to join Abondi and him in their room. The two of them had been very good friends since secondary school and had booked the same room for their second year in the University. One student had to join to complete the number of students assigned to each room, and he was quite sure they could cope with this babyface.

"Whassya name boy?"
"Robert, but my friends call me Robbie."
"Well then, may I call you Robbie."
It was not a request, more like a statement.

He decided that he liked the guy. He could stay. If he had decided otherwise, the boy would have been booted out, one way or the other. Everyone knew that Hardened, aka Zagidibogidi, had his own way in every thing. His father's fame played no little part.

He hated traffic jams. They had a way of occuring when he was in a hurry. Almost always. Particularly today he wished the taxi could fly. And it was hot too. Damn.

They got on well with Babyface. The boy was pure innocence. Whilst he and Abondi were into all the fun campus had to offer, Babyface was all about righteousness and holy holy. The Jesus way and all that.

Why at all had he boarded this rickety old taxi? The driver had parked near the police near on the Liberation Road and was fidgeting with his engine. Didn't he know that this was Get Even Day? Well, would he care?

Rose. His rose. The charming sweet figure of a lady who was the toast of all on the campus. It had taken a long full year to woo her. The many notes, love notes he had written. Not counting the payment of the small boys who acted as courier agents. The visits that occupied a non-negotiable place in his daily routine. The pain of her continual rejection that nearly paralyzed his heart. The hurt to his pride. All his life, he had gotten what he wanted. The blow to his ego. The longing to be linked to her name that became an obsession.

Eventually. Didn't Babyface mouth that aphorism - there is time for everything. And he had always known, too, there is time for nothins. Was he called Hardened for nothing's sake? He had a crocodile skin. Even the hardest bone succumbed to the teeth of the patient dog. He pestered her. He followed her. He flattered her. He spoilt her with gifts. She could no longer pretend that he didn't exist. Or didn't care.

She gave in. Eventually. One long year of perseverance. And not letting go. Never. She was his Rose. Of Sharon, to borrow one of Babyface's.

His friends on his floor carried his shoulder-high on the day of his conquest. Straight into the pond. They rejoiced with him. Rose was all he needed to be what he really was to be. She changed his life. Bye-bye to the Guy called Hardened, the Zagidi. Enter Randy Sandin. He started taking life seriously, for a change. Thanks to his Rose. Monkey no fine, but if his mother continues to love him, Monkey could at least start bathing. Walking well. Speaking well. Zagidi changed, for his Rose' sake.

The taxi was moving again, at last. A mechanic had to come and help. He had not choice but to wait, he didn't have enough to pay for the first part of the journey before the breakdown, and also for the second leg. The taxi drivers didn't charge the same fare from station to station when that distance was covered in two taxi journeys. He had waited for years, a few minutes wouldn't hurt. He looked at the clock on the taxi's dashboard; they had about twenty more minutes of travelling to do. He thought about how he would do it. He may allow him to do a little talking. You know, like in the movies. A little Confession before the hood falls. Not good to meet the Old Man with unacknowledged sin all over. The second part of the Judgement, he would give the Old Man the privilege of executing. The first act was his for the taking. Exclusively his.

The news had shocked him. Someone had tempered with his Rose. Desecrated his temple, his object of worship. He heard it in the lecture room. Raped the previous night, after he had visited her. Her room-mates had travelled and he had kept her company. They had conversed a lot, on a broad range of topics. About their future, together. Their future home. Their future kids. Their future this. Their future that. He had left her waving at the junction to her hall. Waving and smiling. Late in the night. She never got back to her room.

He quickly rushed to the Hospital. At the Entrance, he was stopped stopped by a grim-faced policeman. And he was flashing an ID at him and escorting him to the waiting van.

Everything happened so far. He lost track of time.
Rose had been raped. Fact.
He had been arrested and awaited trial. Fact.
He didn’t know why. Fact.

At the trial, he saw them. His colleagues at work. No pity in those eyes. Their message came piercing his heart.
Rapist!

He couldn’t stand the glare. He squirmed under the force of their ocular judgement and feared and loathed it more than the verdict of the jury.

When the verdict finally came, he was not surprised. He had pleaded not guilty, but who would take him seriously after his fame on campus, for his way with women, for his violent ways.

But Rose changed that! He wanted to scream.

Not to be believed. Add to that, he was the last person seen with her.

His parents had also be in court, on the date of the verdict. Only that day. They did not believe him. They sent a note through the lawyer who elected to defend him, pro bono. He should consider himself no more a part of the Sadins. He was the black sheep of the family. He has brought disgrace to the mighty name.

Only his Rose could tell the truth, she who trusted him but alas, she lay in intensive care, in coma.

He was sentenced to eight years imprisonment, with hard labour. There was general agreement in the courtroom. Hugs and pats. The Monster was to be put away.They were now on the 6th Avenue road. His chamber were on the fourth close off that road. He fingered the weapon once again. Should it be a slit throat or a stab? In the back? Perhaps in the heart. Where it hurt most. Afterall, had he not stabbed him in the heart too? Where it had hurt him real bad.

Abondi visited him in prison a few weeks later. Babyface didn’t come till much later. Only once, because he decided not to see Babyface again, not after what Abondi told him.

It felt eerie the first time he had a visitor – Abondi. The prison officer could as well have sat at the table with them, he stood so close.

“Zagidi, Charlie sorry man! We know say no be you do am! Why? Life be so unfair!” Zagidi could feel the pain in Abondi’s voice. His close pal of many years, his shame was Abondi’s as well.

Then he dropped the bombshell.

It was Babyface who had implicated Zagidi. Babyface had sworn he had seen him at midnight with about three boys who he couldn’t recognize, and that these boys raped Rose. Babyface had identified a shirt that was found at the scene of the crime as Randy’s. This was the shirt that had been tendered as the main exhibit in court, that main basis upon which he was arrested, charged and convicted.

He had planned his revenge since then. And he had been determined each passing day of toil and untold hardship, all undeserved. And the time had come. Finally, it had come.

After four years, he had been released. He hadn’t bothered to find out why and how he had been released early. Not his bother. Find and kill, that was his bother.

It had taken only two days to trace Babyface. A successful lawyer. Well, your days are numbered, Baby Boy. I am seeing to the First Part of the Judgement.

The taxi screened to a halt. Zagidi nearly missed the office, and had to shout for the taxi driver to stop. His voice and his mask of anger must have frightened the driver. Randy alighted and looked up the Signpost in front of the building. Winner Chambers. He chuckled.

A couple of minutes later, he was in Robert Handleman’s office. Babyface hadn’t changed much. The lawyer looked up, studied the visitor’s face, took in the unkempt beard, bloodshot eyes and recognition dawned.

“Randy! Hey, Randy! It’s you! Praise God! At last you are free and you are here!”

For a fleeting moment, Hardened was confused. What guts! You send me to prison and you sound like Holy Mary!

He recovered his composure, went to the door, locked it and put the key in his pocket.

“Hey. Cut it man. Cut it. Praise my foot! I do the talking and I assure you, it shall not be long. Shall be as short as this.”

Calmly he brought out the weapon and thoughtfully turned it over in his hand. He sat down in the chair and looked at the lawyer. How he hated him. The lawyer was uneasy, Zagidi was enjoying it.

“Don’t even dare!” Babyface’s hand was suspended over the telephone.

“Now! You want to confess. Before you die? Hurry!”

So he didn’t know, thought George, as he looked up at his former room-mate and felt sorry for him.

“You think I caused your imprisonment?” Good God! This lawyer Babyface wasn’t just stupid, he was naïve too. Who did?
“Randy, Abondi caused your fall.” What! You must be joking. Abondi my buddy buddy?
“It is all here, my friend. Here in these papers. Abondi signed this affidavit before he died. Last week. He raped Rose. Together with his friends. He always wanted her but you got her first.” Stop it! Stop it! Stop it, man! I can’t bear it anymore. I caaaan’t!
“On the strength of this evidence, you were released. I arranged your release. I couldn’t come to tell you myself since I found out that you didn’t want to see me. Welcome home, man. It is all over. The nightmare is over.”

Randy wept like a child. How could George be so nice when he had wanted so much to kill him? Did he also know that Abondi had lied about him?

“Randy, one bit of good news! Rose is out of coma, and has been asking of you. Can we go see her now?”

Three hours later, a new Randy, in new clothes George has bought for him that day and feeling invigorated after a good bath and meal, sat near Rose’s bed at the hospital. He held her hand. George smiled at them. They will be together again as friends.

“Randy, let bygones be bygones, OK.”
“Can you forgive me, George?”
“Of course, I can.”
“But why? How can you?”
George smiled. “The Jesus Way, remember?”

© Nana Awere Damoah
November 2010