D Men In Black Uniform....By Chibuikem Denis

THE MEN IN BLACK UNIFORMS The Reign of Terror had come. The Police Force had arrested a man on a motorbike, the commercial motorcyclist and our neighbor, who had spoken up aggressively against their extorting him some money on his way back home from the protest against SARS' brutality held in the town. He had forcefully refused to comply with the usual bribery made by other motorists and motorcyclists to the police men who blocked the access road to the major market. Emergency call reached my desk. His pregnant wife at home had called him for some antenatal drugs. As I looked around the man being nabbed in panic; my heart raced hundred miles an hour; I felt bad and afraid at the same time as the police officers descended on him with brutality, kicking his buttocks and bashing his head roughly while being whisked into a Police Hilux Van. Glancing around in daze on the big bright tinted-glass windows of the Hilux Van, what stood out to me that moment was the hysteric attacks meted on that young man, how he was squeezed into the Hilux Van like a moneylender would squeeze a change to a retail merchant. He had also insulted the police men. His stubborn resistance didn’t fetch him backups. Suddenly, a police officer pulled a gun out of his pocket, unsheathed it, and fired three times in the air before firing at the man at a close range. The gunshots echoed through the streets as they penetrated his left leg. He had lost his mind yelling in pain like a madman. In fact, he had become one. I equally felt the impact of the bullets vibrating my skin and my chest. Where could his pregnant wife be at that moment? Out from the road, I raced in annoyance to the man’s apartment to call his wife who was friendly with us. The whole apartment was deserted. I had breathed heavily on reaching one of the existing apartments that housed the man. A piercing cry of a woman had penetrated my soul. The wife whose pregnancy was due crawled in terrible pains. The pains the pregnancy inflicted on her were backaches and stomachaches. These arches reared their ugly heads like mountain peaks piercing the valleys through the dense forests. The Earth and the sky listened attentively to the towering cry of the woman from above the hills and valleys shaking the Earth’s surface in the heat of the sunlight. To be precise, she crawled down the staircases twisting painfully with uncontrollable weeping holding the rails of the staircases, gripping them loosely with sweaty hands in already bloody wet white transparent gown. New adventure found me. “This is terribly difficult! I can’t handle this alone!” My mind had tried to protest. I was attempting to convince myself it was a dream that I would soon wake up from the slumber. But it was not a dream! The horrible scenario was as clear as the day. The chattering negative thought in my mind scattered in the wind. When I looked closely below her transparent wet gown, I found that the baby’s head was halfway out. Oh my goodness! You know the feeling? My heart pounding in my chest, jaw clenching, senses on high alert, brain buzzing, all as if my whole body was saying NO! I wouldn’t go through the entire drama. Her pain had caused me horror but I pulled myself together in despair. It took me almost few minutes to decipher what I could do since I didn’t have any midwifery qualities. The frightening thing about that scenario was that nothing in particular had spurred me to act. Then, I shut my eyes and said, “O Lord, how could I turn back now? How could I embrace this situation?” Courage and compassion descended on me. I had gone closer to her and raised her up but she fell. I tried twice but she fell again. All to no avail. It then deemed clear to me that I couldn’t carry her up. She was lying on the ground like a heavy log of wood vomiting whitish substances. A mad anguish took hold of her. I did everything I could to mellow her distressed stomach. Her misery had been halfway vacuumed out when I told her I would pull the baby out myself. I was glad I shared in her distress. I was pulling the baby out gradually when a thought came upon me. “Don’t! It’s all in despair!” I heed the voice and stopped. Despite the screams of pain, the tears and the bleeding, I had seen her collapse unconsciously. That moment, I got a cab from the street that had taken her to a hospital. A gynecologist placed a stethoscope and administered drugs on her. I was told to wait outside the hospital ward. Few minutes later, a piercing cry of a newborn baby echoed in air. The doctor spoke to her, “Woman, you gave birth to a bouncing baby girl. She is hale and hearty.” When the doctor said that, I saw the woman’s cheeks melt into a glorious tender smile. I instantly saw joy in its purest form emitted a kind of light that illuminated the surface of her face and the surroundings and I recognized it. “Thank you doctor.” She had replied. The baby girl was placed gently on her bosom. I learnt from her facial expressions deep tenderness and love of which she held the baby girl. Her joy was complete. She was united with fresh hopes. Nothing disturbed the calm, serenity and peace of that great moment. When a woman suffered childbearing, the world was her bed of misery in a monstrous form but the moment she was delivered of a baby, the world became a paradise of mystery echoing through the sound of the universe. What a deliriously happy moment! That was how I discovered what mothers passed through giving birth to us. I was sitting in the courtyard of the hospital with all the nursing mothers; some with premature infants, triplets, quadruplets and so on, grabbing and facing one another playfully. And I then felt my strangest and most secret episode written in my heart calmly, compassionately and affectionately. These gracious mothers deserved full love in return irrespective of their status. Every beautiful word and gesture from a good mother was the singing sparrow, the magic trick and the most precious gem of treasure that must be cherished. That was how I found myself writing this story. God bless our mothers and all caring women! When the woman who was delivered of a baby girl recalled that her husband was still in the police custody, her tears of joy instantly turned into sorrow. Fresh droplets of hot tears started dripping down her cheeks. She opened her mouth and yelled, “End police’ brutality now!” “Restructure this country now!” I immediately learnt that since a nursing mother could agitate for her right, why wouldn’t we the younger generation? We mustn’t be trampled on the ground again. # RestructureNigeriaNow! # WeMove! I AM CHIBUIKEM DENNIS