A multiple dose of it

Ididn’t know that Tahir had come into the room until he quickly said: ‘What did I do to deserve that Wifey dear? I can’t remember the last time you hissed so loudly on seeing me.’ He asked, walking further into the sitting room.

‘You can’t remember only because I’d never done that to you Hubby dearest. Why would I ever make a hiss on sighting you, when my heart still skips a beat every time I look your way?’ I responded with a smile.

‘Really?’ He asked with skepticism ‘then what was the long drawn-out hiss all about?’ Tahir demanded, settling down on his favourite chair in the sitting room.

‘Before I answer your question please tell me if you’d be willing to play judge in a situation I’m about to narrate.’ I requested.

‘How can I play judge when I have no idea how to do so? I’ve never had any legal training. Just what are you up to Bint?’ He asked.

‘Just agree to play judge and I’ll tell you everything. Afterwards I’ll explain why it’s necessary to have your ‘legal’ opinion on the matter.’ I insisted.

‘Ok Bint, just this once, I’ll play judge in this hypothetical situation.’ Tahir conceded.

‘First of all, what do you make of this picture?’ I said showing him the screen of my phone.

‘It looks like the photo of an almajiri who seems to have an additional handicap.’ He replied.

‘Well you are wrong there Tahir. The boy is not an almajiri (boy beggar). In fact he had never left the “comfort” of his parents’ house. But even almajirai seem to have better luck than him, given what he gained from that comfort.’ I explained.

‘How do you mean?’ Tahir asked.

‘For two good years, this boy was tied along with the family goats in their stall. He was given no human food or shelter. Come rain or shine he was asking the animals, he ate what they are eating and when there is no food he ate their poop in order to survive. At the age of 10 he underwent this inhuman imprisonment, in his father’s own house, with the active collaboration of his father and two stepmums.’ I disclosed.

‘Did you say his father Bint? Did you really say the boy went through this with the knowledge of his father?’ Tahir asked in disbelief.

‘Yes, that was what I said. We are not talking about a day or a week or even a month, even though that’s equally cruel, but we are talking about 700+ days. For over 700 days the boy was made to live like an animal. No food, no drink, no bath and no prayers. And all because his mother was dead and he happened to be a Down syndrome patient. How can human beings be so hard hearted?’ I wailed.

‘But is this really true Bint? Can it be possible for a father to be part of this evil plot against his own son? You know today, with the aid of social media, some people take great pleasure in writing outrageous stories and touting them as true. How do we know this isn’t one of them?’ He queried.

‘Because it’s all over both social and traditional media. The cruel parents have been arrested and the Kebbi state government has even taken custody of the boy. He is right now in hospital receiving treatment. Photos of him bathed and in clean clothes, on a hospital bed have also emerged. So there is no doubt about this hubby dear, it’s a true story. Now we’ve come to our exercise, if you were the judge that the police will bring the case to, what punishment will you give these three devils?’ I asked. ‘Kai, I’m tempted to say life imprisonment but let’s just say nothing less than ten years each. And that’s because they didn’t end up killing the boy.’ He answered.

‘But that was the intention Tahir. The idea was to starve him to death. But since starving him while among humans will cause him to cry and draw attention to his plight, they chose to keep him among animals, where nobody will know about him. But still it’s amazing how such a thing can escape neighbours and relatives. How is it possible in our local communities, where neighbours and relatives arrive unannounced, where we do not have basements to hide atrocities like white people do; how did such a dastardly deed escape their attention? Or have our people decided to be looking the other way when others are maltreating their relatives? That would be truly unfortunate because one thing that truly distinguishes African communities from others is our unique and brotherly neighbourliness.’ I declared.

‘You are right but it’s possible that the goats stall is somewhere at the back of the house where visitors are not likely to peep.’ Tahir offered.

‘But how about the mother’s relatives? I mean just because she’s dead doesn’t mean no one remembers that she left a child. How come they knew nothing about their nephew’s plight for two years?

News reports say he has the Down syndrome. This means the father can claim he had taken him somewhere for traditional treatment, whenever his maternal relatives came.’ I opined.

‘Yes that’s also possible. But how was he found?’ Tahir asked.

‘The report says a human rights group rescued him and took him to government officials, who in turn took him to hospital. It’s hard to believe that total strangers will save a child whose own father had condemned to death by hunger.’ I observed.

‘Thats why people say that these days “truth is stranger than fiction”. I hope those three get the real punishment they deserve.’ Tahir said.

‘And talking about punishment, if I were the judge, I’ll sentence those devils incarnate to multiples of what the boy went through. By this I mean, if the father is in his 40s, then he’ll be sentenced to life in a goats stall for eight years, with no food no shelter and no respite of any kind. If the older wife is 30, then she gets times three what Jamilu Aliyu suffered, that is six years tied in a goat’s stall. And if say, the younger wife is 20 then she’ll get double of what the boy suffered; four years in a goat’s stall. I truly believe that nothing short of feeling what this boy suffered will adequately punish these parents-from-hell.’ I concluded.

‘You have a point there, Bint. They must be made to feel the pains of their victim. I hope such a prison facility can easily be arranged.’ Tahir concurred.

For two good years, this boy was tied along with the family goats in their stall. He was given no human food or shelter. Come rain or shine he was asking the animals, he ate what they are and when there is no food he ate their poop in order to survive

But how about the mother’s relatives? I mean just because she’s dead doesn’t mean no one remembers that she left a child. How come they knew nothing about their nephew’s plight for two years?