I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, then tears out from my eyes, I started crying bitterly. The police man sitting next to me started talking, “Kwasia you’ve killed a woman, you’ve realized your stupidity so you crying now huh?”, wiping the tears off my face I said to the police officer, “I’m not crying because of what I’ve done, I’m crying because my tummy hurts, I feel pains in my intestines, pains from the stitches”, then the police officer replied, “Kwasia”
I’ve been laying in bed for hours now, doctors and nurses keep coming in to check on me, but none of them said anything to me, my hands were still in cuffs. From where I laid, looking out the door I saw police officers moving to and fro, that was when I realized I was at the police hospital. I was in pain, hungry, bored and restless, there was nothing to do but to think. That was when I got the chance to think about all that had happened. It took me a while to realize I had taken someone’s life. It wasn’t just any life, it was the life of someone I really loved.
Then I started crying again, but this time it was real tears, provoked by pain and regret. I had a lot of time to think about what I had done. Some part of me regret what I had done, but another part of me said that bitch got served! I wanted to wife that girl, have kids with her and live happily ever after just like fairy tales, *sigh* fairy tales, I guess that was all it was.
Another thing that made me cry was the bank loan, since I didn’t die, I knew those bank guys will be coming after my properties I used as collateral. But on the brighter side, someone owned me 200 cedis, payment was due today, I smiled to myself. So I told the police officer sitting next to me that I needed to make a phone call, guess what he said, “Kwasia you’re under arrest, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do would be used against you in the court of law, you have the right to a lawyer, if you can’t afford one, the state would provide you with one; now that I’ve read you your rights, you’re entitled to only one phone call, and I strongly suggest you use it wisely”.
He gave me the phone, I dialed a number, the call went through, and someone picked up then I said, ” Hello, Kwame secktor, oboy ebi me ooh, Azizo this, charle where my money dey? I need am right now, no stories”, then he replied, “Ah ebi you, you go kill your woman? Like that you fool?, your money sef, I no get, ebi 20 ghana p3 way dey my wallet inside”, then I replied, “charle abeg take the money buy some gari beans and korkorr give me, I don’t like plenty gari, the oil, I dey feel the palm oil, the red one, no be the cooking oil, and buy like korkorr 2 cedis, make she add pepper, flow am say the cho is for me, she go tear plenty, abeg hurry up, I dey hung waa, I think the police are starving me to death fam”.
A while later, another police officer came in, introduced himself and told me, he’s been assigned to handle my case, so he’ll need my maximum and full cooperation, he then handed me a piece of paper and a pen, he told me to write my police statement, if I can’t read and write, there’s an officer standing by to assist me with that. But I told him that wouldn’t be neccessary because I could read and write myself. Then he said, “you’re to give a full account of the deceased and to give an account of what happened that night, feel free and take all the time you need, if you need more papers, you’ll be provided”
I didn’t know where to start from, I was tired, dizzy, hungry and in pain, but I had no option, there was so much I wanted to write, lots of explanation I needed to clarify, for a sec I thought I was back in SHS about to write an essay:
“My name is CleDre, 29 years old, a taxi driver born and raised in Madina, the deceased was my girlfriend, Dzibodi. I met Dzibodi making my rounds in town, she got in my car at IPS area, Red lobster junction, she asked me to take her to Taxi rank I noticed she had a sad face when she sat at the back seat, out of curiosity I asked what was wrong with her, then she asked me, ‘why are men so wicked?’, I started laughing and I asked her if it was relationship related, she said her boyfriend had just dumped her, I calmed her down and asked her not to worry, when she got down I gave her my number to call me anytime she needed a taxi driver, so that’s how we met, how our friendship began.
Anytime she needed a taxi service she called me, I was always at her service. We became close, we talked on phone often. She was a student, she was brilliant and very intelligent academically, but the problem was, she lacked funds for school, she had a problem taking care of her school expenses, and she was raised by only her mom, her mom didn’t have enough to sponsor her. So I decided to help them out, but before that I asked her to be my girlfriend, she agreed. I am a man of vision I think long-term, I thought about the future. I sold my taxi car and invested the money in her education, I provided everything she needed, I even rented an apartment for her even tho I lived in a single room, I wanted her to feel comfortable to learn, but in the long run I was going to marry her, and I knew she’ll get a job after school so I knew all my investments will pay off one day. I did all this without asking for sex, I reserved sex for marriage, cos I knew there’ll b plenty of sex during marriage, I wanted her to see me as the true gentleman that I was, not an opportunist. I did it all for love.
After dating her for a year, I made my intentions to marry her clearly known, so she decided to introduce me to her mother. I met her mother, Daavi, we talked and got acquainted, Dzibodi told her mother I was the one taking care of her school expenses and that I was a generous nice guy. At the sound of that her mum started calling me in-law, I knew she had accepted me. Then her mother asked me where I was from and the job I was doing, I told her I was an Ashanti, from Kumasi and I am a taxi driver. Suddenly her mom’s face changed, her smiles disappeared, she frown, her face turned cold, but she managed to fake her way through our conversations, for a sec I thought she didn’t like me, but I didnt pay attention to that.
I sold my taxi and went for a bank loan to acquire a new taxi on hire purchase the interest was insane but I was a hardworking guy so I was determined to pay off in time. One day Dzibodi told me her ex, Edem, has been harassing her calling and flirting with her, she says he wants her back. I warned him several times to stay off my girl. It seemed my warnings paid off cos Dzibodi didn’t complain about him anymore.
Some months later, Dzibodi changed, she stopped calling me, no texts, anytime she picks up she says she’s busy, lots of crazy excuses. One time she told me if I was coming to her house, I should call her first, if I don’t call she won’t open the door for me. Such nonsense, an apartment I rented with my own money, from that day onwards I became very suspicious, so I began stalking her. But I found nothing. She said she was in her final year so she’s busy that’s why she been distant from me.
So yesterday morning she called me asking for some money for her project work, I told her I didn’t have that kinda money on me now so she should give me some few days to raise the cash. God being so good, one friend who owned me paid back, so I had enough money to give Dzibodi, so I decided to pass by her house that evening to deliver the money. I didn’t call her like she would want me to, I decided to surprise her.
I got to the house to witness another man banging my woman, if it was you, how would you feel? what would you do? A man got to do what a man got to do. I had to do what I had to do. I won’t cook for an idiot to eat. So I went to buy a machete to kill her, Dzibodi was my target, not Edem, I spared Edem because, Dzibodi should have known better, all Edem did to her years back, and all I did for her, I don’t think I deserved that, so she had to die! The annoying part was when I asked her why she screwed me over, she said, her mom didn’t like Ashantis, so didn’t approve of our intentions to marry, she wants her to marry an ewe man. kwasia kwa, she doesn’t like Ashantis but she liked my money. Why didn’t she tell me to stop sponsoring her daughter huh?
Don’t read this a judge me, cos only God can judge me. I don’t regret my actions if I get the chance to do this again, I’ll still kill her, i’ll butcher her. If you were in my position, you’d probaly do worse. This was nothing personal, it was strictly business.
When the media got my statement, my story made headlines, they called me The Butcher. The police processed me for court. I was on remand for 13 months during my trail, in the end the judge sentenced me to death by firing squad. The day I was going to die came, I was granted 3 visitors, and one last meal. I requested to see only Kwame sektor, I didn’t even wanted to see anyone, but the reason why I requested for Kwame was because, I asked him to buy me gari and beans.
I was asked to say my last prayers and ask God for forgiveness. I was tied to a pole, then five armed masked prison officers stood about 20 meters away from me with guns, I was also masked, then one officer screamed, “Ready? Aim! Fire!!!!”, all I heard was kpaaah pooh kpah gun shots firing!!
Then I woke up from my sleep, sweating!! I was having a nightmare, it was all a dream.
story by: @AbokiCleDre (follow me on twitter)
Copyright 2016 by @AbokiCleDre on twitter All rights reserved. No Copy and Paste. Unlawful copy of this piece is prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below. email: firstname.lastname@example.org/AbokiCleDre@gmail.com twitter: @AbokiCleDre
Copyright 2016 by @AbokiCleDre on twitter
All rights reserved. No Copy and Paste. Unlawful copy of this piece is prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.