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Jungle Justice
I write this, quite regrettably, to recount the events that have recently happened around my vicinity.
I do not think I would, any time soon, forget these happenings, but I know that I must tell it to others to prevent any form of recurrence. And now, with the only voice I have, in the only way I can, I beg you to listen to these words I have written.
My name is Ayo, I am the only daughter of my parents, who are quite well to do. My mother is a legal practitioner and my father is a contractor for oil companies. My parents and I are closely knit and they always make out time for me despite their busy schedules.
One day, as I went out to a neighbouring street, I saw a girl. She was shabbily dressed, dirty and her hair was unkempt. I do not know - even till this day- what made me stop in my tracks and look at her, but I did. She walked to a shop and told the owner she wanted to buy something. The owner, probably not finding whatever it was in the goods displayed outside, went inside to get it (or so I suppose). As soon as he went in, the girl, in one swift move, took a loaf of bread from the goods outside and ran away, weaving her way through the street's corners.
The man came outside and was surprised that the girl had gone. He at first didn't notice the missing bread and I was tempted to let him know but thought better of it. The poor girl was probably just trying to survive.
I spent the rest of my day at my friend's place before I headed home. On my way back, I followed another way home not quite far from my friend's street. It was rather secluded, but I wasn't alarmed because it was the early hours of the evening. In the alley way between two old and battered up buildings, I saw the same girl again, but this time she was with an older woman. They didn't see me though, I was well hidden from sight.
The woman, sickly looking, was seated not far away from some objects that looked like their personal effects nearly tucked away in the corner. The girl was removing things from a nylon bag. She brought out a canned sardine, a bottle of Fanta, and the loaf of bread I saw her take earlier. The woman's eyes lit up at the sight of all these items. She asked the girl where she got them from. The girl told her how kind people were, how they pitied her and gave her those things set before them both.
The woman was full of thanks to God. She closed her eyes and clasped her palms together earnestly in prayer.
" let us thank God for this meal," she said.
***
Getting home that day, I narrated all I saw to my mom. I told her how particularly moved I was that the poor woman could still thank God for the little that had to eat despite the fact that there was no roof over their heads. I saw that as a motivation to others, who at the slightest tribulation gave up on God, not to think any problem too big a reason not to give God thanks.
I asked mom if there was anything we could do to help, but she said she was very busy working on a case at the moment and so couldn't do anything yet. But she said it so apathetically, that I doubt she would have done anything at all. That night, I said a quick prayer for them and went to sleep.
A few weeks passed and I had quite honestly forgotten about the whole matter. I went to that same street to pay my friend another visit. While I was there, we heard a commotion outside. Not being ones to meddle or pry, we kept ourselves safely locked indoors playing a game as her parents were out. It wasn't long after that we perceived the smell of burnt rubber wafting through our noses. We rushed outside then to see what the commotion was about.
There was an open area mostly used as a temporary market on some days. There were people gathered there now surrounding a figure in the middle that seemed to be the object of interest. As I looked on I was quickly filled with dread. The figure in the middle was as person, the girl of a few weeks ago and she had been set ablaze.
I heard her piercing screams and my heart broke. These people had set the girl ablaze with tyres. My eyes instantly became flooded with tears. With my blurry sight, I made out the sickly woman in the crowd. She was spotted on the ground weeping, her screams and haunted face at that moment were imprinted into my memory. I do not actively recall how I got back home that day. I think my mother came to pick me up. But what I did remember, was that what I had witnessed would live with me forever.
My mother wanted to follow the story. She was particularly interested in persecuting all those involved in the killing. But we all know that such is next to impossible in this part of the world. I took mom to the alley I has once seen them both, but the woman was no where to be found. We heard a few days later that a woman had hung herself on a tree and had died. I discovered later that it was the sickly woman.
I couldn't help feeling guilty in some way for what happened. If only I had tried in some way to help them no matter how little. If only I had pestered mom even more to help. If only I had gone out initially at the outset of the commotion..... But now it was too late. The girl had been accused of stealing and had been burnt. The sickly woman had killed herself because that had taken the only thing she had left from her. The evil people had perpetrated the crime and gone scot-free with absolutely no penalty for their actions, because we had a judicial system the people didn't believe in.
It might have been too late for that girl, woman, and countless others, but it's not too late for us. It's not too late to change our orientation. Do not take justice into your own hands, rather, let the established institutions perform their constitutional duties.
This is all I have to write for now. I hope you have been touched in some way. Please join the struggle against jungle Justice and related crimes. Say no to jungle Justice. Have a blessed day.
-Ese-Ose
© Ese-Ose
I do not think I would, any time soon, forget these happenings, but I know that I must tell it to others to prevent any form of recurrence. And now, with the only voice I have, in the only way I can, I beg you to listen to these words I have written.
My name is Ayo, I am the only daughter of my parents, who are quite well to do. My mother is a legal practitioner and my father is a contractor for oil companies. My parents and I are closely knit and they always make out time for me despite their busy schedules.
One day, as I went out to a neighbouring street, I saw a girl. She was shabbily dressed, dirty and her hair was unkempt. I do not know - even till this day- what made me stop in my tracks and look at her, but I did. She walked to a shop and told the owner she wanted to buy something. The owner, probably not finding whatever it was in the goods displayed outside, went inside to get it (or so I suppose). As soon as he went in, the girl, in one swift move, took a loaf of bread from the goods outside and ran away, weaving her way through the street's corners.
The man came outside and was surprised that the girl had gone. He at first didn't notice the missing bread and I was tempted to let him know but thought better of it. The poor girl was probably just trying to survive.
I spent the rest of my day at my friend's place before I headed home. On my way back, I followed another way home not quite far from my friend's street. It was rather secluded, but I wasn't alarmed because it was the early hours of the evening. In the alley way between two old and battered up buildings, I saw the same girl again, but this time she was with an older woman. They didn't see me though, I was well hidden from sight.
The woman, sickly looking, was seated not far away from some objects that looked like their personal effects nearly tucked away in the corner. The girl was removing things from a nylon bag. She brought out a canned sardine, a bottle of Fanta, and the loaf of bread I saw her take earlier. The woman's eyes lit up at the sight of all these items. She asked the girl where she got them from. The girl told her how kind people were, how they pitied her and gave her those things set before them both.
The woman was full of thanks to God. She closed her eyes and clasped her palms together earnestly in prayer.
" let us thank God for this meal," she said.
***
Getting home that day, I narrated all I saw to my mom. I told her how particularly moved I was that the poor woman could still thank God for the little that had to eat despite the fact that there was no roof over their heads. I saw that as a motivation to others, who at the slightest tribulation gave up on God, not to think any problem too big a reason not to give God thanks.
I asked mom if there was anything we could do to help, but she said she was very busy working on a case at the moment and so couldn't do anything yet. But she said it so apathetically, that I doubt she would have done anything at all. That night, I said a quick prayer for them and went to sleep.
A few weeks passed and I had quite honestly forgotten about the whole matter. I went to that same street to pay my friend another visit. While I was there, we heard a commotion outside. Not being ones to meddle or pry, we kept ourselves safely locked indoors playing a game as her parents were out. It wasn't long after that we perceived the smell of burnt rubber wafting through our noses. We rushed outside then to see what the commotion was about.
There was an open area mostly used as a temporary market on some days. There were people gathered there now surrounding a figure in the middle that seemed to be the object of interest. As I looked on I was quickly filled with dread. The figure in the middle was as person, the girl of a few weeks ago and she had been set ablaze.
I heard her piercing screams and my heart broke. These people had set the girl ablaze with tyres. My eyes instantly became flooded with tears. With my blurry sight, I made out the sickly woman in the crowd. She was spotted on the ground weeping, her screams and haunted face at that moment were imprinted into my memory. I do not actively recall how I got back home that day. I think my mother came to pick me up. But what I did remember, was that what I had witnessed would live with me forever.
My mother wanted to follow the story. She was particularly interested in persecuting all those involved in the killing. But we all know that such is next to impossible in this part of the world. I took mom to the alley I has once seen them both, but the woman was no where to be found. We heard a few days later that a woman had hung herself on a tree and had died. I discovered later that it was the sickly woman.
I couldn't help feeling guilty in some way for what happened. If only I had tried in some way to help them no matter how little. If only I had pestered mom even more to help. If only I had gone out initially at the outset of the commotion..... But now it was too late. The girl had been accused of stealing and had been burnt. The sickly woman had killed herself because that had taken the only thing she had left from her. The evil people had perpetrated the crime and gone scot-free with absolutely no penalty for their actions, because we had a judicial system the people didn't believe in.
It might have been too late for that girl, woman, and countless others, but it's not too late for us. It's not too late to change our orientation. Do not take justice into your own hands, rather, let the established institutions perform their constitutional duties.
This is all I have to write for now. I hope you have been touched in some way. Please join the struggle against jungle Justice and related crimes. Say no to jungle Justice. Have a blessed day.
-Ese-Ose
© Ese-Ose
