Must Read: BLACK MARIA (A Tale of Two Thieves) - Season 1 - Episode 8

Episode 7 years ago

Must Read: BLACK MARIA (A Tale of Two Thieves) - Season 1 - Episode 8

The other men cheered to this suggestion. The young boy sighed. He was tired; tired of life, tired of being afraid, tired of the sufferings, tired of everything. If these men were going to stone him to death, so be it. He had tried his best to stay alive but life didn't work well for him. He was not going to plead for his life; he was not going to embarass himself and beg these hooligans to spare his life when he knew that they would not; they were angry lions that had gone out of control because their 'territory' was invaded. He wished he had died under the blade of one of Chief Salami's thugs. He knew it was better, quicker and less-painful to die by the razor than by the numerous stones hurled at your vulnerable body. Well, let them do it and get it over with. They would be doing him a favour; he longed to see his Mami again.

But to Black's utter surprise, instead of stones, the thugs were bringing out new sticks of what they were smoking from a bag the second man slung over his shoulder. He was curious to know what they were smoking; he had never before seen or smelt those kinds of cigarettes. He asked:

"What are those?"

The slim one smiled at him and answered, "They are called Cannabis, my dear."

"Cannabis sativa," said the first thug.

"Indian hemps," declared the second.

"Ganja," uttered the slim thug.

"Cathedral," the first thug took it up again.

"Wand of Jah," Second.

"Dirty Rose," Slim.

It was as if the trio was having a battle of soubriquets. Black was confused; he didn't know what to believe, he was staring at the men as they continued giving strange names to the sticks.

His first thought, according to the slim man's statement, was that they were going to throw the stems at him. The slim man noticed the confusion written on his face and said, "You are going to smoke what we're smoking."

The man lit a stick and handed it to the boy. Black held it and looked at the men, confused.

"Smoke it," the men ordered in unison.

Black slowly brought the stick to his lips. He gingerly held it there with his teeth.

The men watched him and laughed at his inexperience. The boy was totally at sea about what to do next. He wondered how the men were able to blow smokes out of their mouths and nostrils like dragons.

"sU-Ck on it," one of the men said.

"How?" Black asked between his teeth.

"Like you would sU-Ck on your mother's breasts." The slim one said and the other men laughed.

Black was offended and angry at the man's statement. He wished he was also older and more powerful. He would not stand anyone disrespecting his mother's memory. And to supplicate his lack of physical strength, he rewarded the slim man with a look filled with hatred.

"sU-Ck on it," the first muscled man commanded again.

Black pulled a sharp drag on the cigarette. He immediately began to cough serially. He could not stop coughing for a long time. The men laughed at him the more; it was an uproarious mirth that resonated and abused the quietness of the night. Black desperately wished that someone would come around and rescue him from these evil men. His wish was not borne of fear but of exhaustion. He was getting tired of the act these men were subjecting him.

His coughs had barely subsided when the slim man asked him to sU-Ck again.

"You have to do it slower this time. Watch me."

The hooligan took a slow but long drag at the stick and blew the smoke in Black's face. The little boy coughed fitfully again and the men resumed their laughter.

"Smoke the damn cigarette!" The second thug suddenly growled at the boy.

Black sU-Cked the weed and coughed again. The men hooted maniacally at him as he smoked, they were having a nice time. When he finished the first stick, the thugs handed him another. The little boy was made to smoke five stick until he refused to smoke anymore. They offered him a sixth stick but he refused to take it. He was getting dizzy already; his vision was getting blurry and his headache was returning.

"I can't take anymore," Black broke out, "I'm not feeling well."

"Smoke this last one," the first thug encouraged.

"No," replied the boy, "You said the same thing with the second one."

"I promise, this is the last one."

"It's making me feel sick. I can't take anymore." He had barely finished the sentence when the slim thug suddenly dealt him a vicious blow on the side of the face. The attack sent the boy reeling on the slab of concrete beside him. The slab gave him a sharp pain at the pelvic region. A little boy of his age could have screamed out in pain but Black did not even give a groan.

Painfully and slowly, he rose up again. The left side of his face was instantly grotesquely swollen.

"Take the damn cigarette!"

"No, I will not."

Another blow landed squarely on his right eye. That, too, was swollen shut. This time he fell down on the hard floor without the will to rise.

"Get up." The first thug ordered, but Black remained lying down there. He crouched himself painfully, almost into a ball. His eyes were shut, his side hurt him terribly and his head ached with a splitting threat.

"This little brat is trying to pull stubbornness on us." Observed the piqued second thug.

"We'll teach you to always obey orders." Said the slim thug.

"And accord respect to your elders." The first thug.

The three men, the three touts, began to administer beatings on the poor boy. They kicked him vigorously, one of them carried him high up and threw him hard on the floor. Blood spurted out of his nose and mouth. There was a deep gash on his forehead where he had it on the hard floor. He was beginning to lose consciousness. The men had ripped the shirt off his body, and his skin was grazed and bruised. He was racked with pains all over.

Then one of the men, the slim one, brought out a small knife and slashed Black's back.

The boy cried out!

The man advanced to stab him in the neck but was held back by the first thug.

"We don't need the mess. He'll soon be dead, anyway. We can't have a corpse in our territory." The man turned to Black and said, "Boy, stand up and run for your life before we change our minds."

Black attempted to stand but fell back, the sharp pain that came from his legs was unbearable. His legs were useless; something must have broken. Because he could not stand, let alone walk, he resorted to crawling. The men watched him grimly as he slowly circled about before them. At first, he hit the concrete because he could not see clearly. He was bloody and weak, but he managed to crawl his way out of the men's territory.

The moon shone on his naked body as he slowly crawled down the quiet road, the blood that gushed from his back forming a trail behind him. Even a snail would have taken offence at his slow pace, but each crawl sent a shiver of pains all over his body. There was a time he wanted to surrender to the darkness looming over his consciousness but the voice in his head urged him to heave one more crawl after another. One crawl at a time, slowly but surely, he had to move on. One, two, three, rest. One, two, three, rest. He was in the middle of a long but quiet street. It was dangerous to remain here; he had heard many stories about desperate ritualists that populated the city. They would find nothing wrong in beheading helpless young boys like him. He crawled forward, more determined than before. He decided that even if he was going to die, he wasn't going to lose any part of his body to any ritualist.

He heard the crickets chirping in the distant as he heaved painfully. He even thought he spotted a parliament of owls among the few trees in the street because he could see many pairs of shinning orbs in the branches.

For over an hour, Black crawled limb-by-limb away from his attackers. He remained immobile for a few minutes, exhausted and out of breath; the pain was killing him. When he thought he could not go on anymore, he spotted a church with a concrete cross proudly erected on its roof. With the last ounce of strength in him, he crawled towards the chapel.

He passed out when he reached the entrance.