The Thorny Path to Europe - Episode 17

 

Tunde couldn't believe that he had just witnessed what was the worse betrayal in his entire life. He couldn't stop crying because he could have bet his life that Ade would never disappoint him, but humans were truly unreliable.

The general returned, looking grim. The men that followed him looked ferocious. Walking around with a pistol dangling by his side, he inspired fear.

‘Everybody bring out your phone and place them in front of ya head’ . General commanded. Tunde knew better than to try to argue with him and he was even too weak to start anything there. So, he brought his phone, placed it in front of him and crawled back. Some people were adamant. The gunmen rushed towards them and began to flog them. The men cried and tried to react but the gun that was pointed at them was enough to scare them. They collected all their phones and left them to themselves.

Many of them ran to the door to open it but it was a fruitless effort. They all cried especially the women among them. No one came around to help them and they were left there till the next morning. Tunde used that time to justify what was had happened to them. He was probably suffering from leaving

They were soon taken to another camp the next morning. They rallied round to do what they could

All episodes of this story can be found here >> https://www.ebonystory.com/story/the-thorny-path-to-europe

. In the process of being transferred, Tunde knew the only thing he could do was to escape. The gunmen that moved them looked about Outside, he pretended to have a stomach ache.

He groaned and held his stomach. One of the gunmen came towards him and raised the gun to him on the head. Tunde expected that. He acted fast and grabbed his assailant's leg, falling him. His assailant grunted as he grabbed the imaginary rope in the air but it was a futile effort. Without wasting time, Tunde grabbed his gun and shot at him. The man vibrated as Tunde pumped the bullets into his body.

Tunde pointed the gun in the direction of the others. He had never handled guns but he could try. Not minding the consequences, he shot at them. The bullets hit some of those that had been captured. They yell and down went their bodies but he had no choice.

'Do something', Tunde shouted at the other hostages as he aimed for the other gunmen. Some of them understood what he was saying and began to act. They rushed into the gunmen and began to fight their way out of the compound. Nothing would hold him back at that point, he shot at them and yelled even as he finally got to the street. Hurting the men as much as they could, they all ran away into the street.

'Let's go to the police', one of them suggested.

'And tell them that?' Tunde asked.

'We're being kidnapped'.

'I'm not going', Tunde said.

He stood back in the street. Nothing could be put to chance. What if his parents had announced their names? Yet, the desire to see the result of their actions propelled him to listen to follow them to the nearest police station. Everyone stared at them as they rushed off. As soon as they came in view of a police station, Tunde hid in a corner. 

He watched them from a distance, hoping they were right. Soon, the men were all sympathized with and they were taken to a deportation camp. Wishing he was right, he tailed them till they got to the place and he discovered they were right. Yet, he felt sceptical. His initial aim was to go to Europe and that he would do.

A few minutes later, he saw some gunmen running into the street boldly with their guns. They ran into the police and someone directed them to the deportation camp. Tunde didn't feel like waiting to see the end of those men, but he was sure something bad would happen to them.

That day, Tunde walked about in the streets, scurrying off to bush as soon as he saw men walking in groups. The countrymen looked alike. After hiding till the evening, he walked about and pleaded with some locals for food. All of them rejected him and he wondered why. Immediately he asked for their help, they will cringe away, closing their doors in his face. 

Just when the night came and the pang of hunger and the weariness of the day increased their hold on him, a lonely old woman accommodated him. He was astounded.

“But you have to go very early tomorrow”, she said as she locked the door behind him. “The police mustn’t know… See you here. They catch… Arrest both of us. I’m too old... Erm... Weak to the bone to stay in any cell”

He nodded as he munched the bread she gave him. “Thank you very much. I’ll be out by tomorrow morning. As he laid on the wrappers she gave him, he wondered if he was making the right decisions. Those at the deportation camp would definitely be enjoying the splendour of that place or their home. At least, the Nigerian government would never imprison them for returning home. Yet, his own case was peculiar. They would arrest him for stealing, despite it being a one-time thing.

Later in the day, he walked about the bush, fighting the urge to enter into a deportation camp. He watched the place from a corner of the street and hoped he was only being afraid. The place looked too gloomy and silent for his liking. At least, they should be able to walk freely and do what they love.

When he couldn’t get nearer, he moved to a woman passing by. When he approached her, she didn’t look afraid. So, he took his chances.

'Please, what's that place', Tunde asked.

'That's a deportation camp'.

 'Should I go inside?'

'From what I know, it's better to stay on the streets than to be in a deportation camp in Libya', the woman replied and went on to rant about how Libya has become a place for any cat and dog to start a deportation camp. He said that because the UN would pay them, they kept taking people as if they were helping them.

Tunde nodded and left him. Roaming about in the street, he hoped to find something to do. In the night, he couldn’t get a place to rest his head. So, the only option had to be him trying his luck with the old woman again. Ensuring no one followed him, he retraced his steps to her place. But he missed his way and ended up near the sea.

Upon sighting the sea, his mind wandered off to what the others might be doing now and the type of life they would start in Italy. He shrugged. The timing could be different but he would get there and make his own money. So, he turned back to search for the woman’s house. After what seemed like forever, he located it.

No noise came from the house. Yet, the bulb was on, implying she might be inside and sleeping. After pausing his hand in the mid-air for a while and seeing no other option than to settle for what he had in his front, he knocked on the door. The sound reverberated in the room. He looked about to be sure no one heard the noise.

As expected, he was free. But the old woman didn’t make a sound. He knocked severally but got no response. Seeing he had no other option, he turned back. It would be another crime to be caught breaking and entering someone’s house.

However, his intuition made him return to knock again. This time, he exerted pressure on the door and it opened. Tunde paused in his track.  He looked about and decided to move on with his plan. Walking slowly, he entered the house to meet the corpse of the woman. Someone had shot her in the chest. It took him a lot of effort not to crying loudly into the dark. He spoke less and stared at things more. Another woman was dead because of him. He couldn’t see any reason for her death aside that. The house hadn’t been raided for good but she was dead.

He sat in front of her for hours before deciding to bury her. After searching the house for a shovel, he waited till midnight before burying her. Even as he did so, he couldn't stop crying. Her stiff body reminded him of all the dead people he had encountered on his way to Europe. He cried as he buried her and didn't stop still slept off.

Then, the next day, while roaming the street, he found a boat. At once, it occurred to him that he could try travelling to Europe himself. Now, he wouldn’t be in the custody of anyone. After all, all he needed would be his passport that was still in his pocket. Nevertheless, he couldn’t travel because a lot of port authorities patrolled the sea. And that made him wait till the night. When the night came, he sneaked up to the boat and stole it to the house he now lived.

Later that same night, he took the boat and pushed into the sea. Not wasting a moment, he paddled away. The sea at that point was calm and that gave him assurance. Nothing could stop him as he paddled away. Events popped into his head to keep him company but he didn’t mind them staying. By thinking about them, he could stop focusing on the pain of rowing the boat.

Suddenly, the wind changed direction towards his boat. He struggled as the wind increased and the wave began to move him from side to side. Seeing the policemen during the day had taught him to keep quiet. So, he did and began to battle with the boat. But after a thorough fight against it, their boat capsized. As he floated in the water, he was happy he was about to take his last breath. However, he woke up again. This time, he was pairing into the eyes of an old man. Tears flooded his life. Everything wanted to hold him bound.

‘Where am I?’

‘Libya’.

‘Why did you wake me?’ He asked and clambered out of the house.

Read " Lost But Satisfied " by the same author ( Akíntayo Akinjide )

. Despite being disoriented, he couldn’t stay at the man’s house and meet his corpse again. So, he walked over to the old woman’s house.

There, he recuperated. For three days, he devoured her food. In fact, he began to think up ways to spend more days in the house without being detected. So, he went to her toilet, which was located at the back of her house. Now, he had a lot of things he could do. Choices were available to him. All that mattered was the ability to pick the right one.  He could either remain in the country or return home or even forge ahead. He preferred the latter. So, as he finished urinating, he decided to return to the house to prepare for his journey. But he came out of the toilet to meet two police coming out of the woman’s house as if they were searching for someone.