FICTION

“Listen am speaking! Look behind our memories. Our bare hands act as machines, we do and transport everything by it and we have no one to speak for us. I am the only son from a widowed mother, I want to see people opening they mouths and speak for they own right and freedom, for Africa to be a democracy continent where civilians will be solving problems with leaders.

“A long struggle not to be laughed at. Remember war. It acha but it was folded by a stream of life. Life is heavily weighed, our feet are bare for years and our toes are sticking out day by day. We fought with our patriotic songs searching for our buried love, peace and unity but we didn’t get it. Work hand in hand to be one hand. We need Africa to shine with its beautiful natural resources. Please I won’t stop crying a till all Africans put on shoes.

“I gather cassavas which were beautiful pointed with different soil on my wooden bench to narrate to people about Africa we want to see. My body is poisoned with the present Africa and as am a BANTU I have no value but only weeping. Let believe in our ancestral spirit by wearing our cultural sermons and practice of polygamy. Look to put our cultures alive without coping outside cultures. We want girls and boys to be equal here in Africa.

“Some people think that we’re better with all truth under our shocking lips. Sometimes we sacrifice time for others. We want Africa to have its own flag where green will be all over and red will be shaded on it for family planning to be obtained and troops looking after us — I don’t mean security — for genocide to be washed in Africa. I told ladies and gentlemen who had fenced me.

“Time flies. Take back my sense. I don’t want to lose my identity. But when will witness it change? No matter how our minds are short like that for grasshopper but when will it change? I looked around and see people crying for hunger, I realize that Africa is a melting pot which needs people to throw fine on it for it to be saved.

“I wish to meet my future this morning. Yes. Ha!  Ha! Ha! People laughed.

“Our efforts are effortless, our mouths are agape with collapsing dreams and we are rotten. We want to witness creative people and achievement in Africa, may God bless us. AMEN.”

When James Junior finished, his attorney stood form his chair. “You listened, my Lord. He has gone insane. He has lost his senses. He talked all the time stupidly. He may be exonerated.” He said, bowing before the magistrate.

“What is the guarantee he won’t instigate people anymore?”  The magistrate asked him.

“He is a habitual criminal. He has been sent to jail by the Police Commissioner twice for three months each time to mend his ways. But he didn’t. He does not deserve any mercy. If he is not penalized with death, it will courage up others to raise mutiny.” The prosecutor abruptly interrupted.

“OK, sit down please.” The magistrate said and then turned to James Junior defender. “Do you have any guarantee?”

He shook his head.