TANGO IN YEMEN

Kelvin and I met in the bank years ago. Both of us were employed in the headquarters on the same day. We were later on transferred to a branch in the remote part of the state.

One thing led to another and we became lovers. Our marriage was consummated two years later. The marriage was blessed with two children, one girl and a boy.

Years later, we were thrown into labour market, no thanks to the economic down turn rampaging our country at the time. Most of the companies and organizations felt the recession. They were down sizing their staff strength. Our bank was no exception. When the retrenchment news filtered to us, we thought the exercise would only be limited to the staff in the headquarters. How wrong we were. Few months after, we were also swept off by the staff rationalization exercise.

What could we do? Husband and wife jobless at the same time with two extra mouths to feed and several other dependants and aged parents to take care of. Respite came when we were introduced to some syndicates who specialized in recruitment of people into foreign lands. Both of us attended the interview but we were told that the available job was that house help. The destination was the Asiatic country called Yemen.

Yemen? That was my first time of hearing the name. We were told that Yemen was an Islamic country located in the Middle East. The oil rich country was bordered by the Red sea, Saudi Arabia and Indian Ocean.

The arrangement was queer in the sense that the syndicate would be responsible for our visas and flight tickets. The amount spent would later on be deducted from our salaries on monthly basis until we redeemed the entire amount spent. Left with little or no choice, I agreed to go.

On arrival, I was met with cultural shock. Everything was quite different from the way we were in Nigeria. Their resting day was Friday. This was the day they attended Jumat service in the mosque. It was like our Sunday in Nigeria.

 At Yemen, I was sent to a private home made of the husband wife and their son Fuad, who was in his twenties. From the on set, the mother of the house had warned me to steer clear of the men in the house. She narrated how their former househelp; a Kenyan was caught sleeping with both her husband and their son, she said the girl was lucky to have escaped with the skin of her teeth.

She warned that I should listen attentively to what would be my fate, if I should be caught. Her countenance suddenly changed and she snarled in faultering English that she would kill me, slice my body into small pieces, pack the carcass into a sack and throw it into the sea; never to be seen again. She added that before anybody could sense my absence, she would have lodged complaints of elopement with their jewelries, money and other valuables.

Two months into my assumption of duty, the husband suddenly sneaked into my room located far away from the man building. He did not even say anything to me. He did not use to talk much. What did he want? I wondered; before I could ask him, he suddenly jumped on me like a Tiger, tore my dress in shreds, pushed me down and raped me right there on the rug. After satisfying his lust, he rose up and left the room quietly as he had entered.

Two days after, almost about the same time his father came, Fuad, their son entered my room. Both parents had gone out. I saw them when they were driving out. He did not rush at me like his father. His own method was blackmail.

He said he saw what transpired between me and his father the other day. He said he even had everything recorded. He said I should cooperate with him gently if I did not want him to report to his mother.

He started removing his clothes. Who would I report to? It was their world against mine. They owned the land.

After that episode, both the dad and the son made it regular occurrences. What do I do now? See what fraud and corruption in our land have led us into!

   Reader’ comments are welcome.

 Editor