"Ugh!" The feminine groan. A bird trapped in a cage. Restricted freedom. She is the bird. Here, her freedom sank into the bellowing waters of solitude and agony. Her emancipation could not transit freely from the iron bars. Her days were trekking like the minute-hand of an old wallclock. In this corner of the world, she was blind to other corners. The heavenly bodies has been blatantly selfish to her. They shone on others: The sun on the market women and the students. The evening star on the pregnant women and the infants with torn pants. The moon on the harlots. All. She was shielded by the iron bars. She was shielded from the gay bodies; the naked bodies; the heavenly bodies. Darkness had become her sole companion. Her blue uniform blew into black. Crickets had turned to her evening Fela. She could not eat in peace until she invited mosquitoes to dine on her dinner: stale moin-moin and her tears. She turned pale. Her beautiful skin. Pale. Like a fungi-clustered bread. Her saggy breasts were like half-filled pure water satchets. Nothing but blood dripped out; Mosquitoes had found a new mother. Her heavy pregnancy weighed her down to the dust, to the world. She would have given birth to the skinny baby in the world. Great honour. Behind the bars. 
The warders gossiped in their classroom offices.
"That pregnant woman?"
"Hoor... She will die"
"Officer Kube, three moons from now is her execution"
"Awwn... She has no hope. But what about her unborn child?"
"They both breathe the air of forlornness"
"Despondency rises with their sun"
"Heey... And I pity her o. Hope is far away from this woman"
"Let's await her execution jare..."

Yeah. Hope was on the moon, gazing at her in the dark corners of the night. She was Anna. Once a woman with a vibrant husband and two lovely kids. She had become a woman with strong iron bars and two saggy breasts and a companion of darkness and solitude and crickets and mosquitoes. Her husband was a lawyer-cum-journalist. A vibrant antagonist of greedy and plunderous politicians. The antagonist of his murder-triggerman: Senator Adu. The latter hired assassins to place the bucket for the prominent journalist to kick. He would not have forcefully kicked it if he did not unravel the mystery behind the #800 million and the dilapidated Oro City Grammar School. The story spread like hell fire in the heart of sinners.

There, was widowed pregnant Anna. Rain mixed with blood – the day Anna, in revenge, stabbed the Senator and his testicles. This rain fell on the bored Judge who took interest in sentencing her to death by execution. And this rain flowed her down into this room. The room her two kids wallowed and swam and drown in rivers of tears.
"Mum, when will you come home? Is there any hope?"
"My children... I don't know...I don't... But I'll be home soon... We'll be home soon." 
Tears. Mucous. Tears.
"I want to carry our baby... Mum, I'll carry her like you carried me. I'm sure she's gonna be a girl...Yes? A girl?"
"Of course, my angel, she will be... She'll come to this sinister world soon"
Tears. An explosive knock on the door.
"Time up!!!", the ferocious warder with the protrude lips roared.
"Go, my children... Go..."
"Bye mum...we'll see you later..."

Yes. It was time. Time for her execution.
The firing squad were ready to fire the squad of prisoners. Tears tied her back to the empty barrel which was rope-laden. The rope was tied across her belly, her unborn girl. The soldiers were poised with their guns, ready to fire. The pot-bellied Lieutenant was ready to give orders. Everything was ready. The baby was also ready to visit this sinister world, as the Lieutenant  roared: "Fire!!!"


The brutal sound of the gun, the sound of the jeep and the fatal sound of the hit collided. Her children were on the road, on the floor. This Sinister World.

Musa, Omobolaji David..University of Ibadan.

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