Post by Admin on Jul 1, 2016 8:49:02 GMT
The room was very dark and quite chilly. But perhaps what made it look even gloomier was the fact that it had no windows. It was sparsely furnished, with only two chairs positioned at opposite ends of a steel desk. The lack of furniture only made the room seem larger than it actually was.
Seated in one of the chairs was a man in a dark-blue suit. His head was bowed at a rather awkward angle. He looked like he was in deep sleep and about to fall forwards off his chair. But if one took a closer look, one could see that the man was unconscious.
At the opposite end of the table sat a young man with a goatee. The fact that he was sitting in a chair did little to hide his huge frame. He had a bulky figure that seemed too big for the shirt he was wearing. His piercing brown eyes never left the gentleman in the suit, carefully studying him. On the desk between them was a small plastic bucket.
Slowly, the man in the blue suit came to. There was confusion written on his haggard, elderly face as he carefully studied his surroundings. That did not help much. His eyes finally settled on the strange man seated in front of him, who was smiling.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
The young man stood from his chair. “I see you are finally awake, sir. I was beginning to get worried. I thought I was going to have to use that to rouse you.” He pointed to the bucket on the table. It was filled with water.
The man in the suit looked at his hands and feet. He discovered he could move them; they were not in restraints. He looked at the stranger again. “Who exactly are you?” His voice had a slight unsteadiness about it.
The man with the goatee smiled again. “Now, sir, I cannot tell you that. But, for the purpose of this meeting, you can call me John. And there is no need to tell me who you are, sir. I already know.”
“So, John, what am I doing here? How did I even get here?” The tremor in the older man’s voice was beginning to disappear.
John drummed his long, coffee-brown fingers on the table as he spoke, the effect resembling that of the sound effects in a cheap Nigerian movie. “You are here because I want to talk to you. Actually, I want to talk to you on behalf of my friends. Call us concerned citizens. And, since we are quite sure that you would not have given us the time of day in other circumstances, we had to bring you here against your will.”
And slowly, it all started coming back to the gentleman in the blue suit. He had gone to the lakeside district of Salima for a meeting on Friday. He had checked out of his hotel the following morning, walked to his car, and that was all he remembered.
“Am I a prisoner here?”
“That really depends on how you behave. You and I will sit down and talk about a few things. If you try to do anything other than that, you and I will not be as friendly as we are now, sir,” replied John, the smile still plastered across his face.
The man in the blue suit saw through the thinly-veiled threat. It only made him want to get away even more. He scanned the room again. No openings, except for the door. The only things he could use as weapons were the bucket and the chair he was sitting on. “Alright,” he finally said. “But since it seems like we are going to be here for a while, may I have a glass of cold water? I’m parched.”
John raised his eyebrows for a second. “Right. I’ll go get you a glass. Do not go anywhere.” The elder man only nodded. With that, John left the room.
All alone, the man in the blue suit stood from his chair and stretched himself. He could not see any cameras. The bucket, which had no handle, was almost full, the water as clear as glass. He quickly went to the door and gently tried it.
He stepped out into what seemed like a corridor. He shut the door and with it went the last bit of light. Standing still for a moment to gather his bearings in the darkness, the man in the blue suit did not go far. He had only taken a few steps when volt of electricity shot through his whole body, knocking him out. In the dark, John’s voice could be heard. “Just like a politician. Does not listen, and he lies.”
It was the hard splash of water to his face that woke the man in the blue suit up. This time, his hands were tied to the back of the chair and his legs were handcuffed to the chairs legs. He felt like vomiting, his mouth tasted like copper.
“Good. You’re up,” John spoke, now sitting on the desk in front of the other man. “I had to use the bucket after all. Since you have clearly chosen that we do things the hard way, there really is no point in idle chit-chat anymore.” John cracked his knuckles, no longer smiling. He went and started fiddling with the now empty bucket. “State your name for me, please.”
The man in the blue suit stared at John, saying nothing. His mind was still fuzzy and he was scared, but he decided not to show it. He then said, defiantly. “You said you already knew who I was.” I do not have to tell you.”
John looked at the man he now stood in front of. Then, without warning, he swung the bucket with one hand, smacking the older man across the face. “I really do not have time for this, you know. Let’s try again. Who are you?”
The man in the blue suit winced with pain. A little blood came out form the left corner of his mouth, where the plastic had cut him. Panting, he blurted out, “my name is James Mandimu Phiri.”
John moved on. “And you are a politician, yes?”
“I am a businessman as well as a politician. I prefer being described as the former.”
“I see. Well, that wasn’t too hard, was it, sir? There really is no need for excessive force here. All you have to do is tell me what I ask.”
James Phiri was now beginning to feel very uncomfortable. “You still have not told me what I am doing here. Is it money you are after? I am a wealthy man. We can negotiate. Please.”
John laughed, surprising the other man. “You think this is about money? Far from it. Now, moving along. You are James Phiri, member of parliament for Nanjiri South constituency, correct?”
“Yes, yes, I am,” James Phiri said. “Is this what it is all about? My constituency? Moses Moyenda sent you, didn’t he? What does he want? That spineless bastard lost fair and square! Look, whatever he is paying you, just tell me and I’ll double it! Just let me go!”
A heavy boot hit him squarely on the chest, sending James Phiri backwards and crashing onto the cold floor, chair and all. His hands now pinned to the floor with his full body weight and that of the chair, the Member of Parliament howled with pain.
John stood over the older man. “In future, please keep your answers short and quite relevant to the questions asked. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we get this over and done with,” he said, hauling the politician up.
“Now, this is not about you and your political squabbles and quite frankly, I am offended that you think I could sink so low as to be involved in such petty issues. This is about something much more important.”
Slowly regaining his composure, James Phiri spoke, rather slowly. “Alright. I will answer all your questions. Anything you ask. Let’s get on with it.”
“Excellent. Now, that is the cooperation I was hoping for from the very beginning,” John said, now pacing around the room. “Now, this is your third five-year term as member of parliament for your constituency, right?”
“Yes,” James Phiri replied, wondering where all this was leading to. “I just started my third term a year and a half ago. But I am sure you already know that.”
“Indeed I do. Which brings me to my next question. What exactly have you done for your people during your tenure as member of parliament?” John was now standing directly in front of the Honourable James Phiri.
The Member of Parliament, quite used to being asked such a question, quickly jumped at it with his automatic response. “I have done a lot for my constituency! I have built schools, a health centre and constructed many feeder roads!”
Joe had been expecting that. “It would be wise not to lie to me, sir. Most of the achievements you have mentioned were not initiated by you. In fact, you have done next to nothing for constituents as far as development is concerned.” James Phiri opened his mouth to protest but John held up his hand, shutting the Member of Parliament up.
“Many of the schools you claim to have built cannot be credited to you. Your own constituents took the initiative. They moulded bricks on their own and, with help from the Social Action Fund, constructed school blocks and a few teachers’ houses. It was actually the same case with the health centre you claim to have constructed.”
Honourable James Phiri did not know what to say. He knew John was right. But he had to try and save face. He decided on another strategy.
“Look, in case you do not know, the duty of a Member of Parliament is to debate on and ratify policies that bring about such development. I do not have to give handouts or be physically present for the process.”
John let out a low chuckle. “I am quite aware of that. But we both know that you do not do that either, don’t we? Let me ask you something, Honourable Phiri, how many times have you made contributions on policy matters in parliament?”
“I am one of the most vocal members of the house! You can ask anyone in parliament and they will tell you exactly that!”
“Yes, but that does not answer my question,” John said, mildly amused. “Let me try to simplify this. How many times have you made a positive contribution on important national issues or bills?”
James Phiri was adamant. “Countless times. As I said before, you can ask anyone.”
“Really? You sound very sure of yourself.” John walked to the door and spoke with someone who had apparently been standing outside. He then walked back to the Member of Parliament, his meaty arms folded, as if expecting James Phiri to say something.
“Look, I have answered all your questions. If you have nothing else left, why don’t you just let me go?”
“I am afraid I cannot do that just yet. We are not done. You see, I don’t think you are being honest. So here is what we are going to do,” John paused as two beefy-looking men, looking a little younger than John himself, entered the room. One was carrying a wide bucket full of water while the other was pushing a wheelchair. The latter then removed a tape player and a dozen tapes from the seat of the wheelchair and placed them on the table.
“You see,” John continued, “you are indeed the most vocal, but not when it comes to what you are meant to be deliberating on. So we will go through everything you have said in the last three years, since you claim to make positive contributions. If you are telling the truth, then I will be punished. If you were lying, then the punishment falls upon you.”
James Phiri was worried but he tried not to show it. His captor, on the other hand, seemed in high spirits. “Yes, honourable member, that is what we will do. In movies, what we are about to do is normally used for torture. In our case, whoever turns out to be lying after a conversation or a statement involving you is played will be beaten. If you say something relevant, I will get the beating. If you do not, well, I am sure you get the general idea.”
“Now, wait a minute,” James Phiri protested. “This is not necessary. Can’t we just ask each other questions and then leave it at that instead of your inhumane ways of doing things?”
John sat in his chair and smiled at James Phiri, his head cocked to one side. “We have tried that. Unfortunately, it does not seem to be working out very well. So this is the alternative.” He then spoke directly to one of his henchmen. “Play it.”
The unmistakable voice of the honourable James Phiri came squawking out. “Mr. Speaker, sir, we refuse to deliberate on this financial year’s budget until we get a raise!” Loud applause followed. James Phiri continued, “Yes! Our salaries, number one! The National Budget, number two!”
The tape was paused. Before he could say anything to explain his voice on the tape, one of the beefy men stepped forward and slapped the left James Phiri’s face. It was as unexpected, and unusual an attack as it was painful. The side of his face could not have hurt more if he had pressed it to a red hot hotplate. There was a loud ringing in his ear, then silence. He felt himself stating to drift into unconsciousness again but a splash of cold water quickly prevented that from happening.
John was staring at him, still smiling. “Do not look so worried, honourable Phiri. We are in this together. After all, if there is any amount of truth in what you said, I just might be the one taking most of the beating here. We have everything you’ve said in parliament the past few years on tape, courtesy of Maniac Broadcasting Station. Let’s continue.”
But the more the tapes were played, the more it became clear that James Phiri was not being entirely honest. He contributed on relevant issues only a handful of times while the rest were either comments taunting opposing members of parliament or furthering fellow parliamentarians’ interests.
“You opposition dogs, who do you think you are?”
“We want an increase in parliamentarians’ sitting allowance, otherwise we will throw every bill out of this house!”
“This is our time. Let those of us in power make merry.”
Honourable Phiri could take no more. His face was swollen; blood was streaming out of his nose along with a rivulet of snot. He had a split upper lip. “Please. Stop. I beg you.”
John, who only had a swollen left eye and crusted blood at the corners of his mouth to show for the few number of times he had received a beating, raised his hand. “Okay, that’s enough. You can leave us now. Without the wheelchair. I am sure our guest will have trouble walking.”
As the two young men walked out, James Phiri managed to speak, his voice faint. “Why are you doing this? This will not achieve anything. Why are you doing this?”
John stood from his chair. “Because, Honourable Phiri, this was the last resort. We have tried nearly every other way possible. Protests, petitions, even public forums with members of parliament as special guests to encourage dialogue. We have tried all that and you have either ignored us or flatly turned us down. And since everything else failed, we decided to literally knock some sense into you.” John laughed a bit at his own joke, which James Phiri honestly did not get.
“Why me? Parliament has over a hundred members. Why did you choose to only go after me?” James Phiri’s voice was now that of a scared little boy’s.
John seemed amused, the smirk on his blood-tinted mouth and swollen eye giving him a sinister look. “But you are not the only one here, Honourable Phiri. Let’s take a walk.”
James Phiri was untied and hauled from his chair and into the wheelchair by the young man he only knew as John. Once in the corridor, the Member of Parliament was a bit disorientated. The corridor was now well-lit, with half a dozen fluorescent lamps switched on. More than ten gray doors were visible on each side of the corridor.
“What is this place?”
Behind James Phiri, both hands on the wheelchair handles, John said nothing. He merely pushed the wheelchair and stopped outside one of the doors.
The screams coming from the other side of the door made James Phiri forget about his own pain for a few seconds. It was a man’s high-pitched voice, clearly in pain, calling out to his mother. It was the same at the next door, only this time it was a female voice that was screaming. You could almost swear that someone important in her family had died.
“So you see, Honourable Phiri,” John’s voice nearly made the other man jump out of the wheelchair, “you are not the only one who has been brought here. Some of them are actually close friends of yours in the house. You probably won’t agree but we do not like this. We are not happy that we had to do this but we had no choice, you see. We have tried every other way possible to make parliament listen, unsuccessfully. And you know what they say, if all else fails...”
James Phiri said nothing. The only thing he wanted was for this nightmare to end. Behind him, John continued. “You already know what we want, I’m sure. Members of parliament have a code of conduct that stipulates how they should behave in parliament. We not only expect you to stick to that code but also to put the interests of your constituents first. After all, they are the ones who voted for you. Think about them instead of just bickering like children while in the house and absconding parliamentary sessions for no credible reason. If you do not do this, well, we can always have by-elections.”
“I won’t resign,” James Phiri spoke up. “No matter what you do to me, I will never step down.”
“But that is not the only reason for having a by-election, is it?” John shot back. And then, his voice low, he spoke directly into James Phiri’s right ear. “I wouldn’t involve the police, if I were you, by the way. You only know me and two others, but not the ones behind the rest of these doors. There are actually some who are not even here. You may be able to identify and arrest us but there will be others who can still get to you. And believe me; they will not be as gentle as I have been.”
John now stood directly in front of his captive. “Goodbye, Honourable Phiri. I doubt that you will ever see me again. But, make no mistake, I will be watching you.” James Phiri did not have a chance to respond. Something struck him from behind and he collapsed in the wheelchair.
When Honourable James Phiri walked into parliament the following Monday, two things surprised him. The first was the fact that he was fifteen minutes early but the house was already full. It seemed every Member of Parliament was present and early. The second thing was the unusual quietness in the house. Parliament was usually as noisy as a primary school classroom, especially before the speaker showed up, but today there were only a few murmurings among only a few members.
James Phiri sat on his regular bench and looked around. He could see a few faces which looked slightly swollen and a few of the members were clearly having difficulties sitting. His colleagues’ constant shifting and wincing only reminded James Phiri of his own ordeal the past weekend. He let out an involuntary shudder. He was grateful for the Sergeant-at-arms’ announcement that the speaker had arrived. It helped take his mind off things as he and everyone else in the house rose and the Speaker of Parliament, together with his two deputies, walked into the chamber. One of the deputy Speakers had his left arm in a sling.
Seated in one of the chairs was a man in a dark-blue suit. His head was bowed at a rather awkward angle. He looked like he was in deep sleep and about to fall forwards off his chair. But if one took a closer look, one could see that the man was unconscious.
At the opposite end of the table sat a young man with a goatee. The fact that he was sitting in a chair did little to hide his huge frame. He had a bulky figure that seemed too big for the shirt he was wearing. His piercing brown eyes never left the gentleman in the suit, carefully studying him. On the desk between them was a small plastic bucket.
Slowly, the man in the blue suit came to. There was confusion written on his haggard, elderly face as he carefully studied his surroundings. That did not help much. His eyes finally settled on the strange man seated in front of him, who was smiling.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
The young man stood from his chair. “I see you are finally awake, sir. I was beginning to get worried. I thought I was going to have to use that to rouse you.” He pointed to the bucket on the table. It was filled with water.
The man in the suit looked at his hands and feet. He discovered he could move them; they were not in restraints. He looked at the stranger again. “Who exactly are you?” His voice had a slight unsteadiness about it.
The man with the goatee smiled again. “Now, sir, I cannot tell you that. But, for the purpose of this meeting, you can call me John. And there is no need to tell me who you are, sir. I already know.”
“So, John, what am I doing here? How did I even get here?” The tremor in the older man’s voice was beginning to disappear.
John drummed his long, coffee-brown fingers on the table as he spoke, the effect resembling that of the sound effects in a cheap Nigerian movie. “You are here because I want to talk to you. Actually, I want to talk to you on behalf of my friends. Call us concerned citizens. And, since we are quite sure that you would not have given us the time of day in other circumstances, we had to bring you here against your will.”
And slowly, it all started coming back to the gentleman in the blue suit. He had gone to the lakeside district of Salima for a meeting on Friday. He had checked out of his hotel the following morning, walked to his car, and that was all he remembered.
“Am I a prisoner here?”
“That really depends on how you behave. You and I will sit down and talk about a few things. If you try to do anything other than that, you and I will not be as friendly as we are now, sir,” replied John, the smile still plastered across his face.
The man in the blue suit saw through the thinly-veiled threat. It only made him want to get away even more. He scanned the room again. No openings, except for the door. The only things he could use as weapons were the bucket and the chair he was sitting on. “Alright,” he finally said. “But since it seems like we are going to be here for a while, may I have a glass of cold water? I’m parched.”
John raised his eyebrows for a second. “Right. I’ll go get you a glass. Do not go anywhere.” The elder man only nodded. With that, John left the room.
All alone, the man in the blue suit stood from his chair and stretched himself. He could not see any cameras. The bucket, which had no handle, was almost full, the water as clear as glass. He quickly went to the door and gently tried it.
He stepped out into what seemed like a corridor. He shut the door and with it went the last bit of light. Standing still for a moment to gather his bearings in the darkness, the man in the blue suit did not go far. He had only taken a few steps when volt of electricity shot through his whole body, knocking him out. In the dark, John’s voice could be heard. “Just like a politician. Does not listen, and he lies.”
It was the hard splash of water to his face that woke the man in the blue suit up. This time, his hands were tied to the back of the chair and his legs were handcuffed to the chairs legs. He felt like vomiting, his mouth tasted like copper.
“Good. You’re up,” John spoke, now sitting on the desk in front of the other man. “I had to use the bucket after all. Since you have clearly chosen that we do things the hard way, there really is no point in idle chit-chat anymore.” John cracked his knuckles, no longer smiling. He went and started fiddling with the now empty bucket. “State your name for me, please.”
The man in the blue suit stared at John, saying nothing. His mind was still fuzzy and he was scared, but he decided not to show it. He then said, defiantly. “You said you already knew who I was.” I do not have to tell you.”
John looked at the man he now stood in front of. Then, without warning, he swung the bucket with one hand, smacking the older man across the face. “I really do not have time for this, you know. Let’s try again. Who are you?”
The man in the blue suit winced with pain. A little blood came out form the left corner of his mouth, where the plastic had cut him. Panting, he blurted out, “my name is James Mandimu Phiri.”
John moved on. “And you are a politician, yes?”
“I am a businessman as well as a politician. I prefer being described as the former.”
“I see. Well, that wasn’t too hard, was it, sir? There really is no need for excessive force here. All you have to do is tell me what I ask.”
James Phiri was now beginning to feel very uncomfortable. “You still have not told me what I am doing here. Is it money you are after? I am a wealthy man. We can negotiate. Please.”
John laughed, surprising the other man. “You think this is about money? Far from it. Now, moving along. You are James Phiri, member of parliament for Nanjiri South constituency, correct?”
“Yes, yes, I am,” James Phiri said. “Is this what it is all about? My constituency? Moses Moyenda sent you, didn’t he? What does he want? That spineless bastard lost fair and square! Look, whatever he is paying you, just tell me and I’ll double it! Just let me go!”
A heavy boot hit him squarely on the chest, sending James Phiri backwards and crashing onto the cold floor, chair and all. His hands now pinned to the floor with his full body weight and that of the chair, the Member of Parliament howled with pain.
John stood over the older man. “In future, please keep your answers short and quite relevant to the questions asked. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we get this over and done with,” he said, hauling the politician up.
“Now, this is not about you and your political squabbles and quite frankly, I am offended that you think I could sink so low as to be involved in such petty issues. This is about something much more important.”
Slowly regaining his composure, James Phiri spoke, rather slowly. “Alright. I will answer all your questions. Anything you ask. Let’s get on with it.”
“Excellent. Now, that is the cooperation I was hoping for from the very beginning,” John said, now pacing around the room. “Now, this is your third five-year term as member of parliament for your constituency, right?”
“Yes,” James Phiri replied, wondering where all this was leading to. “I just started my third term a year and a half ago. But I am sure you already know that.”
“Indeed I do. Which brings me to my next question. What exactly have you done for your people during your tenure as member of parliament?” John was now standing directly in front of the Honourable James Phiri.
The Member of Parliament, quite used to being asked such a question, quickly jumped at it with his automatic response. “I have done a lot for my constituency! I have built schools, a health centre and constructed many feeder roads!”
Joe had been expecting that. “It would be wise not to lie to me, sir. Most of the achievements you have mentioned were not initiated by you. In fact, you have done next to nothing for constituents as far as development is concerned.” James Phiri opened his mouth to protest but John held up his hand, shutting the Member of Parliament up.
“Many of the schools you claim to have built cannot be credited to you. Your own constituents took the initiative. They moulded bricks on their own and, with help from the Social Action Fund, constructed school blocks and a few teachers’ houses. It was actually the same case with the health centre you claim to have constructed.”
Honourable James Phiri did not know what to say. He knew John was right. But he had to try and save face. He decided on another strategy.
“Look, in case you do not know, the duty of a Member of Parliament is to debate on and ratify policies that bring about such development. I do not have to give handouts or be physically present for the process.”
John let out a low chuckle. “I am quite aware of that. But we both know that you do not do that either, don’t we? Let me ask you something, Honourable Phiri, how many times have you made contributions on policy matters in parliament?”
“I am one of the most vocal members of the house! You can ask anyone in parliament and they will tell you exactly that!”
“Yes, but that does not answer my question,” John said, mildly amused. “Let me try to simplify this. How many times have you made a positive contribution on important national issues or bills?”
James Phiri was adamant. “Countless times. As I said before, you can ask anyone.”
“Really? You sound very sure of yourself.” John walked to the door and spoke with someone who had apparently been standing outside. He then walked back to the Member of Parliament, his meaty arms folded, as if expecting James Phiri to say something.
“Look, I have answered all your questions. If you have nothing else left, why don’t you just let me go?”
“I am afraid I cannot do that just yet. We are not done. You see, I don’t think you are being honest. So here is what we are going to do,” John paused as two beefy-looking men, looking a little younger than John himself, entered the room. One was carrying a wide bucket full of water while the other was pushing a wheelchair. The latter then removed a tape player and a dozen tapes from the seat of the wheelchair and placed them on the table.
“You see,” John continued, “you are indeed the most vocal, but not when it comes to what you are meant to be deliberating on. So we will go through everything you have said in the last three years, since you claim to make positive contributions. If you are telling the truth, then I will be punished. If you were lying, then the punishment falls upon you.”
James Phiri was worried but he tried not to show it. His captor, on the other hand, seemed in high spirits. “Yes, honourable member, that is what we will do. In movies, what we are about to do is normally used for torture. In our case, whoever turns out to be lying after a conversation or a statement involving you is played will be beaten. If you say something relevant, I will get the beating. If you do not, well, I am sure you get the general idea.”
“Now, wait a minute,” James Phiri protested. “This is not necessary. Can’t we just ask each other questions and then leave it at that instead of your inhumane ways of doing things?”
John sat in his chair and smiled at James Phiri, his head cocked to one side. “We have tried that. Unfortunately, it does not seem to be working out very well. So this is the alternative.” He then spoke directly to one of his henchmen. “Play it.”
The unmistakable voice of the honourable James Phiri came squawking out. “Mr. Speaker, sir, we refuse to deliberate on this financial year’s budget until we get a raise!” Loud applause followed. James Phiri continued, “Yes! Our salaries, number one! The National Budget, number two!”
The tape was paused. Before he could say anything to explain his voice on the tape, one of the beefy men stepped forward and slapped the left James Phiri’s face. It was as unexpected, and unusual an attack as it was painful. The side of his face could not have hurt more if he had pressed it to a red hot hotplate. There was a loud ringing in his ear, then silence. He felt himself stating to drift into unconsciousness again but a splash of cold water quickly prevented that from happening.
John was staring at him, still smiling. “Do not look so worried, honourable Phiri. We are in this together. After all, if there is any amount of truth in what you said, I just might be the one taking most of the beating here. We have everything you’ve said in parliament the past few years on tape, courtesy of Maniac Broadcasting Station. Let’s continue.”
But the more the tapes were played, the more it became clear that James Phiri was not being entirely honest. He contributed on relevant issues only a handful of times while the rest were either comments taunting opposing members of parliament or furthering fellow parliamentarians’ interests.
“You opposition dogs, who do you think you are?”
“We want an increase in parliamentarians’ sitting allowance, otherwise we will throw every bill out of this house!”
“This is our time. Let those of us in power make merry.”
Honourable Phiri could take no more. His face was swollen; blood was streaming out of his nose along with a rivulet of snot. He had a split upper lip. “Please. Stop. I beg you.”
John, who only had a swollen left eye and crusted blood at the corners of his mouth to show for the few number of times he had received a beating, raised his hand. “Okay, that’s enough. You can leave us now. Without the wheelchair. I am sure our guest will have trouble walking.”
As the two young men walked out, James Phiri managed to speak, his voice faint. “Why are you doing this? This will not achieve anything. Why are you doing this?”
John stood from his chair. “Because, Honourable Phiri, this was the last resort. We have tried nearly every other way possible. Protests, petitions, even public forums with members of parliament as special guests to encourage dialogue. We have tried all that and you have either ignored us or flatly turned us down. And since everything else failed, we decided to literally knock some sense into you.” John laughed a bit at his own joke, which James Phiri honestly did not get.
“Why me? Parliament has over a hundred members. Why did you choose to only go after me?” James Phiri’s voice was now that of a scared little boy’s.
John seemed amused, the smirk on his blood-tinted mouth and swollen eye giving him a sinister look. “But you are not the only one here, Honourable Phiri. Let’s take a walk.”
James Phiri was untied and hauled from his chair and into the wheelchair by the young man he only knew as John. Once in the corridor, the Member of Parliament was a bit disorientated. The corridor was now well-lit, with half a dozen fluorescent lamps switched on. More than ten gray doors were visible on each side of the corridor.
“What is this place?”
Behind James Phiri, both hands on the wheelchair handles, John said nothing. He merely pushed the wheelchair and stopped outside one of the doors.
The screams coming from the other side of the door made James Phiri forget about his own pain for a few seconds. It was a man’s high-pitched voice, clearly in pain, calling out to his mother. It was the same at the next door, only this time it was a female voice that was screaming. You could almost swear that someone important in her family had died.
“So you see, Honourable Phiri,” John’s voice nearly made the other man jump out of the wheelchair, “you are not the only one who has been brought here. Some of them are actually close friends of yours in the house. You probably won’t agree but we do not like this. We are not happy that we had to do this but we had no choice, you see. We have tried every other way possible to make parliament listen, unsuccessfully. And you know what they say, if all else fails...”
James Phiri said nothing. The only thing he wanted was for this nightmare to end. Behind him, John continued. “You already know what we want, I’m sure. Members of parliament have a code of conduct that stipulates how they should behave in parliament. We not only expect you to stick to that code but also to put the interests of your constituents first. After all, they are the ones who voted for you. Think about them instead of just bickering like children while in the house and absconding parliamentary sessions for no credible reason. If you do not do this, well, we can always have by-elections.”
“I won’t resign,” James Phiri spoke up. “No matter what you do to me, I will never step down.”
“But that is not the only reason for having a by-election, is it?” John shot back. And then, his voice low, he spoke directly into James Phiri’s right ear. “I wouldn’t involve the police, if I were you, by the way. You only know me and two others, but not the ones behind the rest of these doors. There are actually some who are not even here. You may be able to identify and arrest us but there will be others who can still get to you. And believe me; they will not be as gentle as I have been.”
John now stood directly in front of his captive. “Goodbye, Honourable Phiri. I doubt that you will ever see me again. But, make no mistake, I will be watching you.” James Phiri did not have a chance to respond. Something struck him from behind and he collapsed in the wheelchair.
When Honourable James Phiri walked into parliament the following Monday, two things surprised him. The first was the fact that he was fifteen minutes early but the house was already full. It seemed every Member of Parliament was present and early. The second thing was the unusual quietness in the house. Parliament was usually as noisy as a primary school classroom, especially before the speaker showed up, but today there were only a few murmurings among only a few members.
James Phiri sat on his regular bench and looked around. He could see a few faces which looked slightly swollen and a few of the members were clearly having difficulties sitting. His colleagues’ constant shifting and wincing only reminded James Phiri of his own ordeal the past weekend. He let out an involuntary shudder. He was grateful for the Sergeant-at-arms’ announcement that the speaker had arrived. It helped take his mind off things as he and everyone else in the house rose and the Speaker of Parliament, together with his two deputies, walked into the chamber. One of the deputy Speakers had his left arm in a sling.