When No One Spoke Against Rape

by Lakunle Jaiyesimi

It was during the mid semester, when continuous assessment tests were almost rounding up. Students were seen all over the scenery; hanging around resort centers to ‘catch their trips’. Some who were sporty, would congregate at pockets of games like the tennis, football and the likes. There were the Quarters boys who constitute the biggest clan on Campus. They were notorious for their lack of concern and feeling. Mostly at nights, they would be engaged in car-racing through the only major road that line the premises from the hostel to the academics and then to the Quarters. Maybe so I thought, they would speed past pedestrians; and such who were unwary could be knocked down.

Once it happened that just before the Faculty of Pharmacy, a single car suddenly crashed into itself. The driver was confirmed to have been dead drunk, on his way from New Buka where he’d had his fill with Beer. He sustained no injury, but the new car was a write-off. Sympathizers around, which included myself rushed to the scene and forced him out of the crooked car. He was merely gasping for breath, and everyone thought he was to die. To the amazement of all present, he wobbled out with a brilliant grin on his visage. It was the least action expected of him at that moment. It was thought that he would cry uncontrollably of not knowing what to inform his parents who must have sent him on an errand with the car. His reason for the grin was worth it after all, when he informed us of it very blatantly. He was an Internet Whizkid; oh, I mean an Internet Professional. I’m sure you don’t understand what I mean yet. He further explained that he was not into designing web pages as we might have thought; or hosting it. However, he dealt with Internet Transaction; what was commonly referred to as yahoo-yahoo. The indigenous implication of such nomenclature would be known to a lot of us. In any case, he had his good reason to smile, for a new car shall be awaiting him in another few weeks. Simple!

The mid semester tests were over and as usual people were gathered at the TV Centre in town, near Asherifa premises. This was a major residential area for citied students; and everybody enjoyed their own businesses without poking into other people’s. At least that was as far as there was no football tournament being played. But this time, it was the season, and Arsenal was taking on Barcelona. As expected, the TV Center was filled to the brim. It was a beautiful sight to behold, where students with obvious material and immaterial discrepancy were jumbled together.

There was the one, who had beneath his weight a pair of footwear that barely prevented his sole from kissing the ground, and he argued astutely and assertively with another student, who was obviously from a very affluent home. They were both too fanatical about their interests that they took no awareness of the incongruity between them. The latter was getting goaded by the debate; that I felt he had been brought up never to yield to superior arguments. He showed his grievance with shrivel on his face, as he stomped out of the centre; driving off in his V-Boot.

It was then I noticed a couple in front of one of the numerous student houses in the area. They were standing and holding each other by the hands, while they played away their time, without noticing the passers-by. There was nothing so spectacular about the duo; since here on Campus anything goes – or rather many things go. There was an expanse of land called the ‘Motion Ground’ where photographers carried on their businesses in the day time. At night, the Ground becomes strikingly dark that it had for long become the choice room for lovebirds. There, they do all sorts of thinkable and unthinkable things. So, the situation of such around had become so ordinary that there immediately appeared no spectacular attribute in this duo. But at a second glimpse, I observed that they were not really getting along. The guy was probably trying to entreat the lady to align her interest with his. This achievement was however not in sight, as I could deduce from their gestures. “G-O-A-L!” the congregation within the centre screamed my attention away from the duo. Arsenal FC had just conceded another goal; the legiwork of Ronaldinho. I was beginning to take more interest in the match, as though I was never a fan of any of the teams in the season. I had never been any passionate about foreign teams but always appreciate those who are, and give them as much support as I could. By this time, the Arsenal fans were already gloomy; gradually loosing their esteem and voice. It was something I had always found amusing. The match continued to the 90th minute and extra time of 2 minutes with a 2-1 Arsenal down on the score board; there was tension in the air, as the fans of arsenal were the most numbered. Just then, Henry approached the Barca’s keeper, tipping the ball with grandeur. He fired the shot straight into the…net. The shrill noise of a lady pierced the air; I thought it was in response to the historic feat of Henry, but it was not.

By this time, the match was over and the fans were trooping out of the centre at least with some relief; everyone smiled and chatted with the other. My attention was immediately drawn to the house where the duo was standing earlier. They were no longer there! And the shrill noise came again; this time, it was louder than before. I was able to hear some of her mutterings for safety; but flabbergasted that nobody cared to stop and ask what was amiss. SHE WAS BEING RAPED!!! This was confirmed to me by the next person I inquired from about what was happening. Everybody kept up their pace; it was nobody’s home; she was nobody’s daughter; and it was nobody’s pain.

Only an elderly woman, whose frame could not even uphold her carriage, approached the scene probably to save the lady. She took in her hand a wand with which to do what I may not now understand – maybe to beat up the rapist. Just as she was to step into the building, a young lady approached her whispering few words to her. The old woman’s face changed, and she appeared immediately unworried. She turned around, located a goat and struck it with the wand, while they both left the premises.

The shrill noise came again, ever more reverberating; but no one dared to stop and ask what!

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niyi September 7, 2006 - 10:14 am

What exactly is the article about? I did not gain anything from it or is it just a story(fiction)

basse September 2, 2006 - 8:51 pm

Is there a part two? What went on?


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