By Nkem Awachie
I shouldn’t have come here today. Eden- God’s Backyard. It’s scrawled in charcoal across the wall of the ugly brown house. One of those hasty, low-budget buildings for students and poor people.
I’m in the bathroom. I’ve been standing for almost an hour. The toilet bowl gapes at me. I’m not tired enough to risk sitting on it. My backpack hangs heavy on my shoulders. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, and wait.
Chuka, my classmate invited me here. He wanted to buy shoes from me, for his girlfriend. We were alone in his room. After sampling the shoes on my feet, he chose a pair of purple sandals which I wrapped in nylon and handed to him. Over the bottle of malt he offered me, we chatted about school and music and relationships.
‘So why are you buying her gifts? What’s the occasion?’
‘Excuse me.’ He said.
‘ Why? Is my question too personal?’
‘I meant, be quiet.’
 He pressed a finger to my lips. Our eyes locked, then he stood. He was at the window, drawing the curtains shut. He locked the door, switched off the lights. I watched him in silence. All I could hear were the voices downstairs. Male voices arguing about something.
Chuka stood in  the middle of the room, his head cocked to one side. I watched his chest rise and fall. He squinted at me.
‘I need you…’ he whispered, ‘ To do something for me.’
‘ Why did you lock the door?’ I asked
He pulled me to my feet.
‘You won’t understand.’ He smiled, ‘but I need you to trust me.’
I trusted him. Almost. He was one of my best friends in school. We had lunch together everyday, after lectures. We sometimes studied together. We were both Anglican. Sometimes he would walk me back to my hostel after service. He was my friend.
‘I need you to hide.’ He handed me my backpack.

‘Hide?’
‘Yes.’  He was already steering me to the bathroom.
‘I don’t understand. Why am I hiding?’
‘I don’t have time to explain.’ He whispered, ‘ Promise me you’ll lock the bathroom door, and that you’ll be absolutely quiet.’
‘You can’t just lock me away without explaining to me what’s going on.’
‘There is no time.’ He hissed, ‘Just promise.’
I searched his face, his eyes. I didn’t find answers.
‘I promise.’
‘Thank you.’
He shut the bathroom door and I locked it. Someone was banging on the outer door. He did not answer. the banging got louder and louder. Then it stopped.
I studied the bathroom window, the louvers. There were supposed to be five slats of glass. There were only three. I wondered how the other two got broken. I wondered why Chuka hadn’t come to get me. I would have called out to him but I promised not to make a sound.
I edged closer to the window and looked out. There was a low fence close to the building. Beyond that, trees and grass, healthy and bushy. I wondered if wild animals were in the bushes. I wondered why Chuka hadn’t come to get me.
I heard the outer door fly open, the slam of metal on concrete as it hit the wall. Raised voices, male, shouting.
‘You de hide, abi?’
Chuka said something. His voice was low, I couldn’t make out the words.
‘Shut up there!’ I heard a slap.
Chuka was saying something. I know he deliberately kept his voice low so that I wouldn’t hear.
‘Guy! No de tell me dat nonsense!’ I heard the thud of a punch. More voices.
‘Why you de tell me make I no off am. This guy fuck up!’
Off am? This dude wanted to kill Chuka. Tears clouded my eyes. I did not want to be here, to witness this. I wanted to open the door. To fight for my friend.  What was I going to do? Throw sandals at them? Those guys probably had knives, maybe even guns. I couldn’t go up against them.
They were throwing more punches. I could hear him begging, trying to explain something to them.
What if they killed him? What if they decided to hide him in the bathroom, or wash his blood off their hands. They would find me and kill me too.
The tears spilled. I thought of my parents. They had asked me to come home last week, but I wanted to stay and hang out with my friends, maybe sell off the last of my footwear. I thought of my little sister. What about my dreams of seeing the world? Of finding true love and getting married.
I was staring through the window, wishing I hadn’t come here today, wishing I could somehow escape into the bushes.
Then it occurred to me that I could.
I tested the window panes, then I carefully slid one off. I placed it against the wall. Then I slid off a second one. I was about to remove the third one when my phone rang. It was in my bag. I unzipped the bag and searched for it.
‘Is someone here?’ one of the voices asked.
‘No.’ Chuka answered, ‘You think my friends will be here and you’ll be handling me like this?’
‘Who’s phone is ringing?’
‘It’s mine.’
I found the phone and silenced it.
‘Why did it stop?’ the voice asked.
‘Flashers.’ Chuka hissed.
Silence. I held my breath, hoping they bought his story. They. Whoever they were. How did Chuka get involved with these people? He was such a nice guy.
I once told him I wanted to join the army so that I would learn how to shoot and defend myself.
‘That isn’t necessary.’ He had laughed. ‘Just pay me N2000 and I’ll teach you.’
‘Where will you find a gun?’ I asked.
‘You don’t need to know that. But if you really want to learn, I’ll teach you.’
I had laughed then.
Now I stood still, waiting.
‘Check and make sure no one is there.’ A voice commanded.
Panicked, I struggled with the last window pane. My sleeve caught in its hook. Tears ran down my cheeks as I tried to free myself.  The footsteps were getting closer.
Then I heard a scuffle in the bedroom. There was shouting, the sound of breaking glass, a gunshot. A body slamming against the door, feet running down the stairs. More shouting.
‘Who de shoot gun for my house?’ a new voice bellowed.
More doors slammed open. I heard a female voice shrieking. Things falling to the floor, more gunshots. Another female crying  ‘You will kill him! Please don’t kill him!’
Still more gunshots.
‘Why I no go kill am? You wan kill pesin for where I dey. You no de fear?’
A bullet ricocheted off metal. I heard footsteps running up the stairs.
Terrified, I tore my sleeve away and smashed the last pane. Blood ran down my wrist. Someone was trying to open the bathroom door. I scrambled out of the window. Landing, my knees whacked against a gutter, my feet soaked in the greenish liquid swimming in the gutter. I limped to the fence and somehow scaled it.
I heard my name as I ran, but I did not look back.
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God’s Backyard- By Nkem Awachie, 3.3 out of 10 based on 3 ratings

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