The Last Insurgent

Listen carefully

Isa Hamza came out the car and waited. His caftan was worn carelessly, and he just realised that he had forgotten his cap at home.

The thirty seven year old man was jittery, befuddled and lassitude. It was a few minutes after 10:00PM. He tried her number again but it was now switched off. He had been to Sharada, to the Account Firm only to be told that his wife never came there.

It was late so by the time he went to her place of work, he met only the security guards. He asked for the address of the GM but they asked him to come back the next day because they would do that. It was only after he identified himself he was given the phone number.

He had called the GM and demanded to see him. Now he was waiting outside his house. On his way there, he had called at a police station to give a formal report.

Isa was so lost in thoughts he was not aware that the GM had come out his house and was already standing before him.

“Good evening.” The GM greeted with an extended hand. They shook hands but Isa felt a wave of dislike flowing through him.

“Good evening, Alhaji Gambo. I am Isa Hamza. I am Beeba’s husband.’

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am highly perturbed and astonished. Like I told you on the phone, I simply sent her to make some corrections on an auditing result which I am supposed to present tomorrow during a board meeting.”

“So there is no clue to what has happened? There is no trace of her. Her phone has been switched off, and she did not even get to the place. I am more astonished because you said they left around 3:00 PM.”

“Yes. We have on record because they used an official car. This is mysterious. Have you tried his number?”

“His number? Whose number?”

Gambo made a face that made him look more repulsive to Isa.

“Her colleague. The assignment was primarily hers. He is not the driver but he drove the car.”

“I don’t get your point.”

Gambo showed hesitation.

“They are very close and she never feels secured if he is not around. They left together.”

“Why did you not call him? I don’t even know him. How do I get his number? You ought to have called him, Alhaji Gambo.”

“You don’t know him? I thought you were kind of related because of their level of closeness.”

“Tell me exactly what you are trying to insinuate. My wife is missing Alhaji Gambo.”

“I believe they are together. That is why I thought of calling him. I think I have his number. Let me try.”

Isa called Moore.

He shook his head slightly.

“They both switched off their phones.”

“Okay, if you are trying to give me the impression that my wife is out there with a man, I would be very angry with you. I trust my wife and if there is anyone I don’t trust, it is you because your attitude this night just spoke volumes about you and substantiates what she has been telling me about you.”

“Telling you about me? What has she been saying?”

“You know what I am talking about. I hope there is nothing fishy going on here because I will not rest until I get to the root of it. I am beginning to get suspicious.”

“I understand how you feel right now……”

Isa left him in a fit of pique.

It was the third day Isa received a call.

“Hello.”

“Good evening Mr Isa Hamza. We have news about your wife. Listen carefully.

The room was small, stuffy and murky. The walls were made of steel which told the inmates that it was a shipping container.

There were two tiny windows made at the top. This was the only source of light during day time. This was where Moore and Beeba had been kept imprisoned for three days.

They had no idea of who their abductors were or why they were abducted. The container was an intermodal container so one part was converted into a toilet with a pit latrine.

“My children….” Beeba whispered, after days of crying. “I doubt if I will ever see them again. Only God knows what Abu Haneef is going through.”

“Hmmm….”

“And your mother,” she said, “I hope they do not tell her.”

Moore heaved.

“I was supposed to transfer her to another hospital which coincidentally is not too far from the account office. I wonder how she is doing now.”

“It’s been three days and we don’t know why we are here. I hope we are not objects of ritualism.”

“I hope so.”

They heard a clicking sound and the strong metal door was tugged, before a beam of light flashed on them.

The two men who had abducted them came in. The beam could only let them see the silhouettes of the kidnappers. They had being brought here only after they were blindfolded.

The two men stood without saying a word for a few seconds. The one holding the flashlight kept the beam on Beeba, looking hungrily at her body.

“Our boss wants to talk to you.” He said. “He is on his way.”

Beeba and Moore said nothing. Her heart was beating rapidly and the movement of her chest which was caused by fear seemed to amuse the man holding the flashlight.

“Assalamu alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu.” A soft voice emerged before a man came in. He was tall, slim and wore just a simple white jallabiya.

They could not see his features except his silhouette. Moore and his boys replied to his greeting.

“I seek refuge from Allah from the evil one, and pray for guidance and blessing.” He continued. “I come in peace. You can simply call me Sabr. I am sorry that you have been here for three days and I have not come to see you.

It is part of our culture to let our guest rest for three days before we talk to them. I am sure you have been fed and no one has touched the woman. Haram! We don’t do that. We cannot resort to the atrocities we are trying to obliterate.

I guess you wonder why you were invited here. Actually, it is nothing that has to do with personal issue. May I know your name, young man?”

“Moore Leader.”

“Allahu akhbar! What a nice name. Masha Allah.”

“What about your wife?”

“She is not my wife.”

“Your sister perhaps.”

“We are colleagues. We work at the same place.” Beeba said. “My name is Beeba Bukar.”

Even though they could not see Sabr, it seemed the revelation astonished him.

“Where do you work?”

“Shatoo Plastic Company” Moore replied.

“Hmmm…..We saw your ID cards. I thought you were going to lie to me. I hate liars. That is a sin. Did you know that I am a graduate?  I studied Business Administration. These two here are also graduates. But look at us. We have no jobs. You know why? Because the system is addled. I have lost job opportunities because I am not a woman. I lost many because I have no one upstairs. This cannot go on. We cannot go on like this. We have to do something. And that is what we are doing. We have to change the system. The government is wicked and we have to stop them.

Now we are creating employments. Did you know that the Toyota Hilux we got from you helped a lot of people? We called a painter who changed its colour. We called in a mechanic who dismantled the engine and sold it parts to spare part dealers. With what we made, we added some amount and bought a new engine. No one can trace the car.

We created jobs for all of these people. We will sell the car and share the money. You see how helpful we are? By doing this, we are helping the nation by reducing the number of those in labour market.

Now, I will call your husband and demand for money.” He turned at Moore. “ Are you married?”

“No.”

“Who are your family members?”

“I have always been an only child and I lost my father since I was ten. The only person I have is my mother.”

“What killed your father?”

“He died in Liberia. He was a military man.”

“You must have been given millions of naira.”

“No. Some of his entitlements are still pending.”

“You see? Now you can see what I am talking about. He died for the country and they still owe him. We must change the system. We will call your mother.”

“She is sick. I am the one taking care of her. She is currently in hospital.”

“Are you saying there is nobody to pay your ransom?”

“Is that what this is all about? Are you kidnappers?”

“I seek refuge with Allah from evil. Kidnapping is a strong word. We are not kidnappers. We are Gentlemen of the society. We are trying to balance wealth and morality. Please do not use such a dangerous word again.”

“I do not have anybody to pay for me. I am the one who takes care of my mother.”

“Oh no. I feel so bad for you. It is pathetic and I get emotional when I hear things like this. May Allah ease it for you, may He extricate you. Can we recite Alamnashara for him? Okay, we will do that later. I have an idea. I will kill you, and your mother will die quicker and save the pains. What do you think? …you don’t have to think. That is the best thing to do. Your case is closed.”

Sabr turned at his man.

“Give me her phone.” He said. “What name did you use in saving your husband’s number? Honey, Sweetheart, My Love, Baban baby, what?”

“Abu Haneef.”

Sabr searched while he began to recite a portion of The Holy Qur’an. He was doing very bad things and yet, using religion and morality to justify them. What kind of Islam was he practicing?

The line connected. Sabr saw his name because of the caller’s ID.

“Hello.”

“Good evening Mr Isa Hamza. We have news about your wife. Listen carefully……..”