Drum Bits of Terror: Drum Bits of Terror

9

63 9 he next morning, Sam found himself in the Principal’s office yet again, just as the radio was announcing the news of an attempted coup in the nation. That was August 1, 1982, and the country was in tumult. For Sam, he was staging a ‘coup’ of his own; at least, so he thought against his nemesis Judas. He sat there, in that dimly lit room, quietly and eagerly awaiting the man’s appearance. The secretary hardly noticed him. When the Principal finally emerged, a surge of emotions—sorrow, rage, anxiety— ambushed him. Distressed, he lowered his eyes to the ground out of shame and cupping his head between the palms of his hands. Tears came prickling at his eyeballs, but being a man, he was not supposed to exhibit this type of weakness. “Sam,” he heard the man call his name. Sam cocked his head slightly to steal a glance at the Principal, but did not respond. Not even ‘Yes, sir!’ or ‘Yes Madam,’ which was proper decorum and expected of him. A polite way a student responded to any teacher. “You know why you are here!” Sam nodded his agreement, but remained sullenly still and quiet. “You’ve tied my hands boy!” Sam did not make a sound. He had nothing to say. How could he convince his Principal that he was moved to justifiable anger in slugging Judas? How could he convince him he had overheard what Judas said to him and had lost his senses? How could he convince him he grabbed Judas’ bike and rode it all the way to the lake and broke it into pieces, discarding them into the deep waters of Lake Victoria? How could he tell him he had watched as the pieces floated away, carried by the current until they were submerged under the water? Undoubtedly, he was guilty as he was charged. That was all there was to it. Dull eyed, he sat in a contemplative repose. Muted, he watched his world collapse like dominoes at a finger’s touch—there was no yesterday, there was no today, there was no tomorrow, just emptiness in a harrowing experience. T 64 When the principal finally handed him his expulsion letter, Sam was not surprised. He knew he was provoked to justifiable anger to strike Judas. Yet, he knew his punishment was rather harsh; it did not measure-up to his crime. What sort of reprimand would his teacher get? Had he not been the precipice of the conflict? Had he not coveted his girl, would he have landed in trouble? Common sense told him he should not have fought over a girl, but his emotions overrode his rational thoughts. Then, his mind took flight to the first time he fought someone over a girl. The penalty for his action was not severe. No, there were no consequences. After defeating Ndooli, he walked away triumphantly, and with the girl. Sadly, in his fight with Judas, he was not a winner. He was, definitely, the big loser. Guilty or not, Judas played the victim, deceiving and receiving favouritism from the Principal. How the wheels of justice were turned upside down against him! How the weak fell prey to those with power! For power rests solely with those with might. Sam had no might, falling prey to his accuser. He knew, without doubt, his teacher would not be reprimanded. He had the power to alter his life. He also had the power to alter anyone’s life if he wished, even Nekesa’s life; though that was not his concern now. That morning, even though it was a bright day, Sam did not ravel in its pleasantry. Even the dazzling sunny could not jolt him back to happiness. All his dreams of a successful future had come to an abrupt end. Then, gloom fell upon him like a boulder. Dreadful innermost thoughts crept onto his mind like a bad storm. ‘I should have killed him when I had a chance. What a creep!’ he thought. Judas deserved all these ill thoughts—that he should die and burn in hell. Men like him deserved to go to hell! That is where they belonged, among the despicable sons of donkeys who reap havoc on the innocent in the name of lust like him.’ Then, his focus shifted to his predicament. ‘The end! The end! No more independence, but dependence. No more independence, but dependence!’ He kept on mumbling those words to himself, as...