Chapter 32
Alexander paced. He could feel moisture gathering in his armpits. He did not know which was the culprit; the small, confined space of his room or the sun’s ridiculous heat. Officer Bánkọ́lé was taking too long to get back to him. “Once his wounds heal, let me know, so we can come to see him.” That was the agreement.
Two weeks had passed since the attack. Officer Bánkọ́lé did not pick his call today.
Mom had panicked and wailed as expected when they learned of the news, his attempts to keep it secret from her failed. However, his frequent communication with Officer Bánkọ́lé and Festus helped her sleep a little at night. Alexander had pooled money from his salary and Mom lovingly gave all she had from her old kọ́lọ́ box. Ívíé insisted on contributing money as well. Together, they made David’s stay in a V.I.P cell as well as subsequent medical attention possible.
Yémísì did not help. He closed the door of her room quietly after she shook her head that afternoon. It was better to conserve his emotional bandwidth for weightier issues.
Now, he could not help but wonder why she had refused. The unnerving silence from David’s end was giving room for all manner of thoughts to breed.
Time was running out. Soon, Mom would pester him for updates. “When will I be able to see my son?”. It would no longer matter that he was trying to delay the visit for her sake. It would be inconsequential that David needed to look presentable. He would not be able to answer her question and together, they would wonder if another terrible thing had happened to him.
It was no longer a prediction.
He snatched his phone up and glared at the screen. No missed calls still. He flung it back on the bed.
God, you’ve encouraged me to trust you. I’ve not heard anything for five days now. What am I going to do?
He swiped his hand over his face. The beads of sweat from his nose transferred to his palm. He removed his singlet. He looked at the window, befuddled. He had parted the curtains and yet it still felt like a thick black cloth was covering the room, emitting more heat.
He sat on the bed.
Though Yémísì had been against David’s decision to go to prison, he did not think that her refusal to help was punitive. She had an uncongenial manner, which was clear to everyone, but he knew she was not callous.
Still…
Something was missing.
That afternoon, when David left home, Alexander had seen the light go out of Yémísì’s eyes. It was strange. She always had her shoulders up, strong-willed, unshakeable and a little bullish even. That day, her shoulders slumped. The following weeks would come to prove his hunch. There was no hint or proof of continuous effort to shorten David’s time in prison. In fact, she stayed at home more often, sleeping, speaking with her children on the phone and tending to Mom’s needs. The long days of clandestine silence and absence were over. There were no more sudden calls and requests to have him take over Mom’s care for the day.
He had seen it as God’s handiwork. Even if Yémísì did not believe in His supremacy, God was nevertheless wielding his sovereignty through her inactions. Now, even though he still believed this in his head, his heart was wishing for something very different…and appalling.
He blinked when he realized what he was thinking. He pressed his thumb over his temples and closed his eyes.
No, no, no. This is not right.
Pain scratched through his chest. He exhaled.
But what else am I supposed to do?
As a family, they could only try their best — spend money, give their time, resources and prayers, but they would never truly know what David was going through in the throes of that prison cell. The V.I.P cell which objectively, was a more conducive environment for him might even be a stepping stone to enable more psychotic episodes. After all, he could whisper to himself all day long, slash his wrists and have hallucinations. No one would care.
Alexander scratched his hair.
Did I make a mistake?
A strange voice whispered specious words in his subconscious.
Why not just ask Yémísì upfront to do what she can do for him? Forget about the past. Do what is necessary now for his future and save yourself more regrets.
He stopped scratching and stared at the wall. The voice had faded out but its admonition lingered. The advice sounded right and also tempting.
But…is that right?
His phone vibrated.
He picked it up. It was Officer Bánkọ́lé.
***
Alexander’s chest was heaving when he got to Yémísì’s house. Mom was sitting on her wooden chair as usual, just adjacent to the television. Her eyes, which had been closing off in sleep, parted wide open. He scurried to her side. She sat up, her eyebrows drawn together, alert and searching.
“I have good news, mommy. The Officer said we can visit David now. He is fine.”
She looked at the ceiling and breathed out a smile. Alexander gulped air and also smiled as he watched her.
“Thank God,” she closed her eyes and pressed her hand on her chest.
He held her other hand, rubbing his thumb over the bulging vein on her hands.
“Yeah.”
After a moment, his eyes wandered to the kitchen. “Where is sístà mi?”
Mom glanced up at the stairs and pointed a finger. Alexander nodded and stood up.
“I will tell her about this and we should be on our way after that.”
Mom nodded.
He had only made a left turn upstairs when he started hearing Yémísì’s voice, as she spoke to someone on the phone. He took a few more steps and stood in front of her door, hoping this would not be one of her standard three-hour talk sessions. While he waited, he folded his arms and stared at the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It swayed from side to side.
one , two, one, two, one two.
His ears caught a certain sentence. He looked at the door and frowned. He turned away but the words had done the deed. It was impossible to ignore. He returned to the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ve paid the doctor already…yes, yes…of course…” her voice was emphatic. “I combined the stab wound with his schizophrenia…made it sound like he’s going to die tomorrow if he doesn’t leave that place.”
Alexander moved closer and leaned against the doorframe.
“Ehn…yes…I know…I understand…he’s receiving treatment already but what does that matter? That’s why I’m paying you…I’ll be getting the report from the doctor on Friday.”
He pressed his body against the frame, wishing he could catch a strain of what the other person was saying to Yémísì. He started to wonder if it had been a wise move to pay for David’s medical supplies.
“Please, make sure the court clerk moves his file forward, abeg…extra money? for that? Abeg nau…”
Alexander’s heart throbbed. A picture of his Zenith bank homepage appeared in his inner eye. Only five thousand naira was left. He pressed his fingers on the door. What was the lawyer saying to her? ‘No I can’t help you’?
Yémísì’s voice was shaky and desperate with need.
“Alright, alright…I will deposit something…okay…thanks…”
Alexander exhaled.
“See ehn,” she added after a moment of silence. “Forget all these packaging. At the end of the day, we are not really lying. David is dying in that cell. Please, help us.”
Alexander removed his shoulder from the cold wood and took a few steps back. This is what she’s been spending money on. He had quietly hoped for this and now that it was true, he was hopeful that the plan would still work, despite Officer Bánkọ́lé saying that all was fine. He sighed.
I should not want this.
That guileful voice came in again.
But David…what are you going to do about him if this happens again? If he doesn’t survive the next attack, you’ll have yourself to blame. For all you know Zipporah’s Dad can always create a better plan and make sure he dies next time. He knows where David is.
A knot formed in his stomach. He clutched the railing.
When you needed relief, I gave it to you, didn’t I?
His shoulders slumped, crushed by the conviction from the still voice.
Lord, help my unbelief.
“What are you doing here?”
Alexander jolted, his eyes shifting to the present world. Yémísì was in a pink satin nightie.
“Erm…I…I just came to tell you that we can visit David now. Mom is waiting downstairs.”
She leaned against the doorframe and folded her hands. She leered at him some more. He knew she knew that he had heard everything. He also knew that she thought him to be shifty.
There was nothing else to say. He could not promise her that he supported her plan or warn her of the dangers of it. So he looked back at her, his hands fisted by his side, till she gave up, turned back to her room and slammed the door.
David was on the third verse of the Psalm ninety-five when a portly officer called his name.
“Your family. They’re here to see you.”
In a split second, David closed his bible and jolted from his bed. His head collided with the metal frame of the bunk rails above. He sucked in air as the pain burned through his scalp. He raised his elbow to his face and tore off the bandage. A brown scar had now formed. Good. He touched his face for a few seconds. It was when he did not feel any scar or bandaid that he remembered that Zipporah’s father had not attacked him in that area.
***
David was on the third verse of the Psalm ninety-five when a portly officer called his name.
“Your family. They’re here to see you.”
In a split second, David closed his bible and jolted from his bed. His head collided with the metal frame of the bunk rails above. He sucked in air as the pain burned through his scalp. He raised his elbow to his face and tore off the bandage. A brown scar had now formed. Good. He touched his face for a few seconds. It was when he did not feel any scar or bandaid that he remembered that Zipporah’s father had not attacked him in that area.
Why did Alexander not inform of this beforehand?
Because you would have told him no.
“Oya come out na!” the officer placed a hand beside his rotund stomach, jingling the keys in his hand.
David trudged behind the officer. He wished that his steps would slow down time and create impatience within his family. The officer waddled, his torso swaying from side to side. David was grateful for the man’s obesity. It could buy some more time, he had thought but soon enough, he would find that even that could not save him. Within two minutes, the officer reached the general waiting room and unlocked the bars.
As they entered the concrete walls, painted in off-white colors, David spotted his mother, brother and sister sitting on a wooden bench with a long, trestle table in front of them. The lighting of the room was dim, as the fluorescent tube on the ceiling flickered. The window was also heavily barred.
Alexander was the first to rise. His eyes ran over David’s body in seconds. Spotting no visible wound, his eyebrow relaxed. The officer strided to the back of the room and stood by the iron bars, watching them.
Mom pressed her fingers on the table and leaned against it. When Yémísì and Alexander noticed what she was trying to do, they placed an arm behind her upper arm and propped her up. Once she was on her foot, she doddered to him, tears running down her eyes. David knew he should have moved closer to her, to save her the stress, but his heavy heart kept his limbs frozen.
“My son…” her hands traced his face softly then slid to his neck. She felt his pulse. They moved to his shoulders. When she felt the scar on his elbow, she twisted his forearm till she could see the scar.
She looked at him with sorrowful eyes. “He…he did this to you?”
“I am fine now, mummy,” he gripped her hand and wiped her tears with the back of his hand.
She wouldn’t budge. Despite her senility, she managed to wring her hand free from his hold. She inched closer and raised his shirt up. David stiffened, knowing there was no escape. There in plain sight was the long scar seating right beside his navel.
“Oh my God,” her voice was trembled as she traced her finger along the mark.
David looked at his siblings for help. They didn’t look put together either. Yémísì looked at him like she pitied him, as though to say that it should not have been him. Alexander was sighing and blinking, watching him and Mom with helplessness.
Mom lowered his shirt and put her arms around his back and wept. David released his breath and embraced her. They remained like that for a moment till he remembered that time was ticking. He whispered to her, “Mom, please let’s go and sit down. We can continue to hold hands while we sit.”
Thankfully, she pulled back. He held her by the shoulder and led her to the long bench where Yémísì and Alexander were. While they walked, she did not take her eyes off him. As he was about to sit on the bench across from them, he heard the Officer shout an instruction.
“Heyss, madam, you no suppose sit beside am. Not allowed!”
David turned and saw his mother standing at the tail end of his bench. She kept staring at him, more tears pooling in her eyes. David gave her a sad smile. Eventually, in compliance with the officer, she retreated and sat beside Alexander.
Yémísì scowled at the officer and pushed her fingers forward. David and Alexander gave her a warning look, afraid that the officer might see her telling him ‘your father’. Fortunately, he had missed that because a passing inmate had caught his attention right at that moment.
The focus was back on David.
Yémísì and Alexander’s hands were on the table, their fingers interlocked. Mom was holding his hand. They were looking at his face with such dolorous expressions. It did not help that the window behind them reflected minimal light and created a dark hue on the better part of their faces. He had to force a smile to ease the suffocating weight of their stares.
“And I touched my face before coming here o. The way you people are looking at me…is there shit on my face?”
Alexander squirmed.
Yémísì shook her head, irritated by his flippancy. “Do you think this is funny?”
David bit his lips.
“How have you been?” Alexander’s voice was unsteady.
“I’ve…” he looked at the table. Then he remembered the old, suicidal man he met a week ago. He faced them. “I’ve actually been well.”
There was silence from the three of them. None of them bothered to ask how that was so. It was clear that they did not believe him.
He looked at Alexander. “How is Ívíé?”
“She’s fine. We rushed down here as soon as we heard that you were doing better so we couldn’t bring her along. She’s also at work today but she will definitely come next time. She is always praying for you.”
David nodded.
“See…” Yémísì inched forward. Then she licked her lower lip. David had never seen her so vulnerable. “I have something important to tell you. It’s for your future.”
David’s eyes shifted to Alexander. He saw him swallow. David raised a brow.
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“I hired a lawyer who has connections with people at the top. He knows the High Court Judge. He knows the court clerks too. I’ve arranged a formal medical report from a doctor for you. We’re connecting your mental illness to the stabbing. We stated that this prison is a psychological death trap for you and it cannot protect you from future harm. The attack you suffered has caused you to see more hallucinations and live in constant fear for your life. We have requested that you need to be released immediately so that we, your family, can care for you — not a state mental facility. Without immediate care, you are going to collapse permanently.”
David frowned. Hallucinations? He had not experienced that in a few weeks now, despite the multiple triggers. He looked at Alexander again. He did not seem surprised, or even offended by what she was saying. Mom, on the other hand, was looking at Yémísì with narrowed eyes. He slanted his head to the side but decided not to say anything yet. Yémísì continued speaking like she had not seen his countenance. Her voice remained hushed, wary of the warder’s watchful eyes and ears. Thankfully, the voices of inmates outside the building shielded her.
“The lawyer will pay the court clerk so that they can push your file forward and schedule you for an emergency hearing. The lawyer is also going to pay the prosecutor so he won’t argue against your case. I have covered the cost of that. Millions of naira,” she paused, letting the last words sink in.
At this Alexander’s eyes flashed a little.
“We will also pay the judge ahead of time so that he grants you bail because of your ill health,” she cleared her throat when the room got too quiet. She lowered her voice some more.
“I can only hope this works. There are no guarantees because people run off with your money — money you are not even supposed to be paying them and they don’t get the job done. But I’m just telling you this to prepare your mind and maybe, give you some hope,” she touched her chest. “I have hope. It would be a good opportunity for you to leave this place,” she leaned forward. “And when the judge grants you bail, you will need to sign the document authorizing your release. So…just…think about it.”
David’s breath caught. His heart was pounding, itching to give a righteous defense.
Then he remembered something.
He unclenched his fist.
He had wished so badly to go home, for a long time. If he had known of Yémísì’s plan the day the prisoners humiliated him, he would have clung to it. He would have prayed for the plan to work while Festus stitched his painful wounds.
But now…
He drummed lightly on the table.
He could not get the question of that suicidal man out of his head. “How do I overcome guilt?”
The old man had not been satisfied with David’s answer. It showed in the way he grunted and shuffled out of the building. It hurt David’s heart. After that day, he became preoccupied with thoughts of the man. He interceded for him and longed to see him again. His heart sang for joy when he saw him the next Sunday, just before he left the service. He had offered to do the man’s laundry. It was an afternoon of thick, awkward silence because the man stared at the wall while David washed his clothes. He only whispered a soft ‘thank you’ when David stood to dry his clothes. Although David did not think he had any profound encouragement to give the old man, he desired to be present with him, if that would be any comfort. He hoped that he would feel less alone.
He looked at Yémísì. She was pressing her thumb over her knuckles and boring into his face.
“It’s like you don’t care about this whole plan.”
He chewed his lower lip, then breathed out. How could he explain what he was feeling to her? He stole a glance at Alexander and saw that he was pressing his lips inwards. David was confused by his apprehension. He wondered if he was hoping the plan would work, if he would take the chance.
He looked at the table as he talked. “We will see what God has in store. We can’t say for now, after all.”
Yémísì leaned back and stared at him, her mouth hung open. “Of course, we can’t say for now but are you not at least hoping for this?” She bent forward and lowered her voice which had risen uncontrollably. “And don’t tell me you will not sign that document when the judge grants you bail o?”
David pressed his thumb into his palm. He released another pent up breath.
She raised her voice a little above a whisper. “Answer me!”
David’s mouth did not move. He kept looking at the floor.
The officer was staring at them now. “Madam, keep your voice low!”
She reclined again and spoke in a whispery tone without sparing a look at the officer. “You sef must be joking sha because you have no idea how much you will regret being in this place. Me I will not allow you to die before you leave here sha.”
“My baby, what is on your mind?”
Tears rushed to the back of David’s throat at the sound of his mother’s voice. He raised his head and saw a pained smile on her face. He did not know when he reached for her hand. Alexander’s faith did not seem so strong right now, but Mom was still choosing to hold on. In the moment, she was the one who understood him best.
A tear fell. He squeezed her palm. “I think…I think God is working something out. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I want to wait and see.”
Yémísì hissed, the sound reverberated in the room.
David felt another hand on his and Mom’s. It was Alexander. Warmth flooded his heart at the feeling of his brother’s touch. Thank God for a reignition of his faith! Though, he knew he could not castigate him or even say that he should have been positive. He could have died from that attack.
Mom touched his face. He held on to her wrinkly hand and bowed his head, tears choking him. Silence filled the room for a few minutes. Though his eyes were closed, he could feel his mother’s loving eyes on him. He could hear what was unsaid through her sniffs. He knew from the way her hand shook against his cheek that she too was afraid. The question was clear: would he be alive to see what God was planning?
“Time is up o!” The warder’s voice echoed.
How was it fifteen minutes already?
Mom withdrew her hand. She managed to say a few words. “We got some food and provisions for you. The Officer has inspected it already.”
Alexander placed a big black polythene bag on the table.
“Please, eat well,” she squeezed his hand.
“Please, be alive,” Alexander added. Fatigue lines were on his forehead. He knew that if Alexander had the chance, he would have clutched on to his ankle as he made the plea. “And stop pushing us away. We will come to visit you again. Very soon.”
The officer was now standing beside David. David grabbed the bag and rose. He nodded to Alexander and gave his mother a faint smile. Mom used the hem of her wrapper to wipe her cheeks. He turned to Yémísì. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. As the officer placed a hand on David’s shoulder to pull him forward, he caught Yémísì wiping something off her face.
When David stepped out into the sun, he saw the suicidal man, strolling right across the yard, in the midst of other inmates. He was listless, as always but it was a bit beyond the usual this time. He was looking at the ground as he moved, not aware of the other inmates swamped beside him who were walking recklessly and even running in different directions. David began walking towards the man, hoping to catch him before he fell. The officer beside him pulled him back.
“Where do you think you are going?”
David grunted, hating that he was in the V.I.P cell. As the officer led him back to his cell block, his mind began plotting ways that he could see the man before Sunday. He could not let five days pass by after seeing the man in such a dark, disturbing state.
***
“Ọmọ, this risk you are taking sha,” Festus shook his head as he inserted the keys into the hole.
“If you didn’t want me to take risks, you wouldn’t have told me about the man in the first place,” David jabbed back in a whisper.
The door of the sick bay unlocked. The old man was laying on the bed by the right side — the same bed he had laid on while he bled. He was awake. His eyes shifted to them as they walked in. A tube from a drip was plastered to his hand, administering fluid into his system. The man’s eyes seemed to have been on the ceiling before they came in. He returned his attention to it. David sat on the empty bed and watched him, unsure of what to say or if it was even proper to say anything. Festus did not seem to share the same thoughts.
“Well…” he broke in. “I will be right by the door if you need me.” With that, he shut the door, leaving the two of them in the humid room.
David rose and dropped the polythene bag he was holding on the table beside the man’s bed. He cleared his throat. “There is Lucozade Boost inside the nylon. There is also raw ògì, if you don’t like Lucozade boost, sir. There are oranges in here too. It will give you plenty of strength once you feel better.”
The man continued looking at the ceiling. David scratched his temple.
“I will be on my way now. Please take care of yourself, sir.”
David slinked away. He reached the door and was about to step out.
“How did you know I…had malaria?” The old man spoke in Yoruba.
David turned. The man was no longer looking at the ceiling but his eyes still seemed faraway as they latched onto space. David locked his fingers together. “I saw you two days ago on the field sir and you looked weak. My friend, Festus, said that you were showing signs of malaria. He noticed you from his cell and said you were always shivering even though the cell is very hot.”
There was that stomach-turning silence again. David remained by the door, tapping his palm as the man stared at the window.
“Young man, how old are you?”
David wondered why he was asking that question. Then he surmised that odd words were better than none at all.
“I’m thirty-four years old, sir.”
“Hm,” the man’s voice croaked. Then his eyes shifted to David. “Are you sure your leg won’t start paining you as you are standing like that?”
David shuffled back to the empty bed and settled on it. The man was staring at him now. David gulped again, anticipating that the discussion was about to be a long one. But the man said nothing for almost ten minutes. A stubborn fly droned next to his ear despite his many attempts to swat it off. Sweat was trickling down his underarms. He was wondering for the umpteenth time when the man would speak when all of a sudden, he saw a tear fall from the side of his eye into his ear.
David stood up.
“Sir, what is wrong?”
“Thirty four years…I’ve been here for thirty years.”
David’s heart dropped. His eyes moved to the gray hair on his head and instantly imagined it being jet black and shiny three decades ago.
“After thirty years, I will be having a trial for the first time. I waited this long, for what? Not for myself. I don’t have hope for myself but for my àbúrò…that boy who I brought to this place because of my stupidity. Now I am having my trial before him.”
“Your brother?” David squinted his eyes. Several faces of the inmates passed through his mind. He tried to see if there was anyone that had the same oblong face shape and mustache as his.
The man blinked his affirmation. He was too weak to nod his head.
“My àbúrò is Táyọ̀ Ajenifuja.”
David’s eyes widened. Immediately, he saw the resemblance. He also had graying hair. “That was the president of my cell when I was at Cell A5!”
How in the world? He could never have thought that that wicked man who disgraced him publicly at the ludo game was the younger brother of this old man. He relaxed his eyebrows when he remembered that he was in front of this man.
“Yes, he is my brother. He is forty years old. I am sixty.”
“I failed as his ẹ̀gbọ́n. Our parents died early. They left him in my care but I did not do well. I’m the reason he is the way he is,” the man closed his eyes. He rasped in tears. Every line on his face wrinkled in deep agony. David knelt beside him and reached for his limp hand as he watched him sob. He had many questions but knew that this man was not a person of many words. He did not even know his name.
“Sir,” David patted his fingers. “I don’t know if this helps but I understand your pain. Deeply.”
The man sniffed and looked at him. The first time he walked up to David and asked the question on guilt, David had not shared his full story. He did not want to share it now either, but it was not out of obstinacy. He did not want to put the spotlight on himself.
“Kí ló understand?”
David put on a sad smile and answered in Yoruba. “Sir, I want to believe that if you were not convinced that I could understand you, you wouldn’t have approached me that day with your question.”
The man blinked his admittance. He heaved his chest.
“I used to be an àgbèrò. Hustle here and there for my junior brother so we can eat,” he sniffed. “Steal from people, do all those kinds of things. Then I started doing more bad things — burning cars àti bẹ́ẹ̀ bẹ́ẹ̀ lọ. My younger brother knew what I was doing. He was a teenager that time. He said he wanted to join me, make we hustle together. I no gree for am. But him no gree too,” he let out a few coughs.
David brought out a bottle of water from the polythene bag. He was going to uncap it when the man shook his head and cleared his throat. He continued talking.
“He joined another àgbèrò group, our rivals. I didn’t know that he was doing àgbèrò until we fought with the other group one day and I saw him there. I thought I was going to run mad. We were breaking bottles on each other’s heads…” his voice choked in emotion. Another tear slipped sideways. “I could not fight. I was just looking at my brother. I wanted him to get out of there, I did not want him to die. As I was trying to protect him, a passerby died by accident. I got all sorts of marks on my body too. Broken bottles and cutlass. Police came and arrested all of us.”
David heard Festus’ words re-echoed in his ears. They are hardened criminals who have committed horrible crimes and are battling with mental issues…Anything to cope with the demons in their head.
Without a shadow of a doubt, Táyọ̀ had plenty of demons. Who wouldn’t blame and loathe themselves for suffering the consequences of an action they were clearly warned against?
“Hm,” David sighed. He covered the man’s hand in his. “If there’s one thing you really wish you can tell Mr. Táyọ̀, what will you tell him?”
The man stared at the ceiling.
“To tell him that he should have listened to me. I would have preferred to spend time in prison alone than spend it with my brother. He would have had education, a wife and his own children by now, but I can’t tell him. I gave him a bad example. It is my fault.”
David licked his lower lip.
“Do you talk to him at all? Does he talk to you?”
“Not really. He can’t face me. I have tried to tell him to stop harassing his cellmates but the àgbèrò behavior is deep inside him. He likes to avoid me. He only helps me with cutting the grass on the field sometimes and greets me shortly before going his own way.”
David sighed again. The man had stopped sobbing now.
“That day…when that man stabbed you…” he said. “I heard what he said to you. I saw your reaction too, though it was for a short while. I had to run into the cell.”
“You looked sorry for what you did. I could just see it in your eyes that you must have spent a long time trying to correct your mistakes. When you were in the common cell, I used to see you read your bible all the time,” his eyebrows furrowed as he recalled. “I was touched that you were still standing strong. I’m not good at reading but I thought I could still hear from you. I understand small English.”
David laughed and continued in Yoruba. “But sir, I’ve not done a good job in convincing you of how to overcome guilt so far.”
The man managed to nod. “Yes, I just don’t believe that it’s not my fault.”
“Well, me too. For twenty years, everyone told me it was not my fault. They went to great lengths to show it to me. It was as if something was blocking the ears of my heart,” he smiled at himself wistfully.
“Even now, I still don’t fully believe that it was not my fault. And maybe…” he shrugged. “Maybe the solution is not even in believing that it was not our fault. Sometimes, it is actually our fault. But then what? Stay in that thought forever?” David licked his lips again.
He turned his eyes away from the floor and gazed at the man. “Sir, like you, I stayed in that thought for twenty years and I made everything worse. It’s because I did not move on from my mistake that the father of that dead girl attacked me. I caused the girl a lot of pain. But like I said the last time, I think prayer is what helps with guilt. It is what I am coming to see. No amount of thinking will solve anything or fix the past. It was prayer that opened my eyes — after all the talking and preaching, it was believing God’s word for myself and asking for mercy that made me a bit sane. I believe prayer is what will help you too, sir. I just want to encourage you to turn away from your own mind and turn to God. You have punished yourself enough.”
The man heaved a deep sigh.
“Is this really true?”
David nodded. “If you are not going to believe any other thing, believe this one. God will show you mercy, even if nobody else does.”
“Hm. I wonder if Táyọ̀ will be okay when I go for my trial.”
“When is it sir?”
“Next month.”
David squeezed the man’s hand. He felt his heart soften for the cell president because of this man. “We will put your brother in the hands of God and trust Him. I am here for you, sir. If you don’t mind, I want to pray with you now.”
“Okay.”
“By the way, sir, what is your name? I’m asking so I can mention it while praying.”
“Bámisẹ̀.”
David closed his eyes and prayed in Yoruba to the best of his ability. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the man was already sleeping. He removed his hand gently and let Mr. Bámisẹ̀’s hand rest on the bed. Again, when he got to the door, the man spoke, causing him to flinch.
“Thank you so much for paying for this drip…I knew it was you…”
There was silence again. The man had drifted back to sleep. David gave a nod of respect and left the sick bay.
