NO BIG DEAL

THE INTERVIEW
By innocent Masina Nkhonyo

The reporter shifted his head and cleared his throat. The forenoon sunbeams were filtering into the room through the limpid curtains and the atmosphere was deliciously cool. The prisoner that he had come to interview walked lethargically into the room that was completely different from her cell, where she spent most of her time. She was only allowed to have a feel of the outside atmosphere for six hours under extreme guard for she was regarded as one of the greatest criminals in the country. Now, her head filled with dandruffs and lice nits, she seemed to crave for the milk of human kindness.
The reporter was already seated on a chair behind a flat desk that stood in the middle of the room and he was wagging his fountain pen patiently. The prisoner entered posthaste and preferred a squat plastic stool to a sizeable chair that was similar to the one occupied by the reporter.
“My name is Kennedy Msukwa and I am a reporter for a newspaper called Malawi Eye and I have come to interview you. Our paper has a column called “The prisoner’s voice” where we publish stories of different prisoners who are there in different prisons in this country,” said the reporter.
The prisoner looked at him without saying a word in the first place. She swept her hand across her head, feeling the messy hair that was tough and dirty. “But I don’t find any reason why I should talk to you. I don’t want everyone to know that I’m a prisoner. The gates of hell have already opened for me and I feel you’re disturbing the little peace that I pretend to have. You don’t know what it feels like to be sentenced to life imprisonment with hard labour for an offence that you never committed,” she said, flashing him a cursory glance. “It’s not going to mean anything even if my story gets published in your paper. It’s too late for me to protest my innocence. This damned world…”
“It’s never too late,” said the reporter, breathing hard. “I just want you to explain everything that led to your conviction. I’m sorry that I’m trying to remind you of such hard memories, but you never know I might be highlighting your plight. Maybe after reading your story, someone out there might be willing to appeal on your behalf.”
Finally, the prisoner decided that perhaps it was proper that she explained what had happened. Maybe indeed someone out there might be willing to appeal on her behalf. “Alright, I’ll tell you what happened,” she said.
The reporter organized himself and held his fountain pen steadily. “Thank you so much. Your name first,” she said, looking in her eyes that appeared to be tracing how innocent she was.
“Melissa.”
“Fine, you may carry on.”
“I was living with my aunt who was a nurse. She was a woman of advanced years but still I called her Aunt Susan. My parents had passed away five months before. Aunt Susan was a very kind person. The five months that I lived with her were like a week.”
Kennedy did not find the necessity of that part but he let her continue anyway.
“When I looked depressed, she always tried her best to show me the best kind of motherly love she could afford. Due to thoughts about the sudden consecutive deaths of my parents, I began to look unhealthy and I lost so much weight each passing day. After trying in vain to help me retain my health, Aunt Susan was obliged to go and take some drugs from her workplace which would help me have appetite and regain my strength and it worked.” She paused to give the reporter enough time to write what she had said.
“Then what happened next?” he asked.
“This day was hot and windy. Aunt Susan told me that we were living in a crazy world. I didn’t know what she meant until two police officers came in the afternoon to search her house, saying the had been advised to do so by the District Health Officer who had suspected that drugs were missing at the hospital. They found only 12 tablets which were remaining after I had taken the rest.
“After interrogation, Aunt Susan returned home temperate but depressed. I didn’t ask her any question because her imminent suffering was all because of me sake. Later, I learnt that she had been arraigned before a court of law where she was to answer theft charges. She won the case after the presiding magistrate quashed it, saying the drugs that were found in her possession were not enough evidence that she was behind the disappearance of cartons and cartons of the same at the hospital.
“The DHO was not satisfied with the ruling and he appealed. His desire was that aunt Susan should be found guilty and she was indeed found guilty. She didn’t say anything in mitigation and the High Court judge who presided over the appeal case continued delivering his ruling, dwelling at every point that could be pressed in favour of her. But as he continued, it was slowly becoming clear that he had found her guilty. He deliberated for a minute and finally dropped the bombshell, but she was given a two-months sentence suspended to 12 months during which she was not to engage herself in any criminal offence. At her workplace, she was under suspension.
“Although the sentence was not severe, she was not satisfied. According to her, there was a terrible injustice that needed not to pass on. However, she never appealed but wrote a number of articles on injustice and the articles appeared in different newspapers and were being read on different radio stations.”
“What happened after that?” Kennedy asked just to keep the conversation alive.
“At least there was some improvement especially when different human rights bodies joined her bandwagon, but unfortunately, she didn’t live to enjoy the fruits of justice which she had fervently fought for,” she narrated, grief glimmering in her eyes. “This other day, the sun shimmered through the wood, filling us with unbridled warmth. ‘Sometimes life is full of cheap thrills. Life has no meaning at all,’ she said to me without explaining further. The following day, I stood in the garden, my eyes gazing at the fluffy white clouds in the sky. She came behind me and told me that her days were numbered. Her last day was very strange. She behaved as though she had taken leave of her senses. She gave me her Bible and a posy of white roses and mints and larkspurs and her most loved dress and told me that she pitied my welfare. She pulled down every picture-frame and laid them haphazardly in one corner.”
Kennedy had now stopped taking down notes. He was listening with his whole attention, even though Melissa continued including unnecessary parts. He let her obliterate from her mind whatever she wanted to. Perhaps it was going to change something in her.
“I just watched her, completely struck with bewilderment. She told me that I should take very good care of myself and to be always self-controlled. She also advised me to keep my eyes peeled saying the devil was prowling like a hungry lion, seeking who to stray. That night two thugs came to aunt Susan’s house and shot her dead. I had never been horrified in my life like I was on this night. She had always said: life is a fugitive adventure. She was lying in the corner of her own sitting room, as unfeeling as a stone. I stared at her frigid body like a child frightened by the horrifying cry of a nightjar. The thugs threatened that they would let me leave if I agreed to leave the house that very same night and get out of that place.”
“It is clear that she died for your sake,” the reporter said after being silent for some time.
“Yes. Yes…” She reached for the bottom of her prison garb and squeezed it against her eyes.
“But it appears to me that that was the only way.”
“It was a sacrifice for my welfare, yet two weeks later, I was arrested. Her blood had just been shed in vain; her life had just been taken in vain.” Melissa sobbed.
“It is alright,” said the reporter, touching her shoulders endearingly.
“The police never investigated the murder but instead they arrested me. I failed to defend myself because I had run away after the thugs had threatened to kill me if I dared stay there. According to the police, I was running away after murdering my aunt. This is the journey that finally dropped me in this place. If only justice could prevail…”
“Thank you for your cooperation. I am greatly concerned. I will make sure something happens to your advantage,” said the reporter assumingly.
After Melissa’s story appeared in the Malawi Eye a week later, one lawyer, the founder of Bandawe Legal Practitioners, a law firm whose main objective was to help people who had been hauled up before a court of law but could not afford a lawyer, appealed on Melissa’s behalf. After numerous proceedings, the real culprits were finally found. The District Health Officer of the hospital where the late Susan had been working was behind everything. He had been stealing cartons and cartons of drugs from the hospital and had been selling them to private hospitals owners. He had tried to implicate Susan in the scum and when she had not been given a custodial sentence, he just decided to put an end to her life.
The thugs who had been hired by the DHO testified in court and the doctor was sentenced to life imprisonment with hard labour together with the thugs. Melissa was released and she was handsomely compensated.