FICTION: The Trials of Mute

FICTION: The Trials of Mute
By Opeodu Pascaline

The fat beard men sat at the round table with hunting eyes. Their undisciplined pot bellies were peeping through their shirts, threatening to burst out of the choking grips of their tightly fitted long sleeved shirts. Their eyes a blurry red spoke of the impact of alcohol. The one who seemed to be the leader cleared his throat.
“Mute, answer the question” he barked like a toothless Bull dog in his cave man looks, “tell us where you were on the 19thday of November 2015?”He asked fiercely.

The man at the other end of the table sat; head bowed and shoulders sunken. He was Mute. He was mute, carefully calculating his answers and weighing his options. Whatever his answers were, he knew that he was already a dead man. They were going to make a scapegoat out of him. He could tell from their Wolf like countenance. And here he was a lamb for the slaughter on the altar of injustice.

He raised his head and looked into the eyes of his interrogators. All Mute could see were men who wanted students to cower at the mention of their name. Men who corruption and wickedness, like a canker worm had eaten so deep into their bone marrows. They had a target; invite key personnel for questioning, acquire the needed information and then crucify him on the cross of ‘scapegoatism’. They hid under the name; Student Punishment Council (SPC).

“I was in the University of Alakori” Mute finally answered fearlessly.

“That means you are saying that you were a part of the protest that held that day in this university.” the beard man smiled with mischief in his eyes.
Not knowing if it had been a question, Mute answered anyway

“sir, I did not say I was a part of any protest. I said I was in the University of Alakori because I school here so it is only natural that I would be here.” With his head held high he stared back into the beard man’s eyes.

Although, Mute knew that it was a lost battle, he still came prepared. He was not willing to go down without a fight. Not like a coward. He was not going to be backed into a corner like a hound. Before Mute was summoned by the SPC, he had heard tales of how the committee had brain washed students into believing that they had committed offences and thus confessed to the crimes they knew nothing about. He would not let that be his lot. In his mind he recited some lines in Claude McKay’s “If We Must Die”:

“If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot
…………
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly,
Pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!”

“We have a number of witnesses who saw you and even mentioned your name as the mastermind behind the 19th November protest in UA” the beard man said banging his clenched fist on the beautifully waxed mahogany table.

Mute shifted slightly in his seat refusing to be startled by the beard man’s barbaric outburst. How could it be that his fellow Katangites would betray him. Had the school authorities finally broken the thin cord that binds the Katangites? No, he would not believe their lies. He understood their tactics of imposition. He would not fall for it. Mute had not known that there would be a protest in school. The busy schedule of his Industrial Training in Port Harcourt had taken him away from the campus. He had stopped by on campus that day to sign his I.T documents and to say ‘hello’ to his colleagues and friends when he met frustrated Katangites in a protest chanting the Aluta war cry:

“Solidarity forever (3ce)
We shall always fight for our rights”

He inquired the cause of the protest and had been told that the great Katangites were bedeviled by a twin demon- power outage and water scarcity. It had become a norm that when Katanga and Baluba Hall sneezes, UA catches cold.

Out of cheer frustration, the school authorities were determined to make a show of some of those who had been seen in and around the protest area. This had to be done to curtail students’ participation in protests activities. The school authorities were fully aware and scared that the protests revealed their inadequacies, corruption and mismanagement. They earnestly wanted to protect the image of the First and the Best by feeding the general public with fictitious assumptions since the school had now become a shadow of its former shadow.

Days after the protest, it was heard that the school authorities were looking into the protest. Students had rejoiced at the knowledge of this, hoping that after the investigations sanity would be restored to the order of things. But the school authorities had a totally different plan. Their nature would not let them find a lasting solution to the incessant inconsistencies in the management of the halls of residence, but they had rather find permanent means to put an end to protests and stifle the voices calling them to order. This would not be. The Aluta spirit would ask questions with stones even if their voices were to be taken away.

Mute had been served a letter by the SPC inviting him for questioning. As a result of the so-called questioning by the SPC, Mute had lost the right to contest as the Administrator General in the Katanga Republic. His opponent had been scared that he could not stand a chance against Mute at the polls so he wrote to the electoral committee requesting for Mute’s disqualification as he was under questioning by the SPC.

Mute had lost enough; he was not ready to also lose his manliness and dignity before the power hungry thugs.
“Sir, I don’t know anything about the protest, I was in school to get my I.T form signed by my supervisor, Prof….”
“Keep quiet, you miscreant!” The beard man bellowed to cut Mute short.

Mute scanned the faces of those seated before him then, his eyes finally rested on one of them. His supervisor. Now he knew why the beard man in charge had cut him short, his supervisor was a part of the SPC. It was a joint conspiracy to rid him of all justice and get their ultimate aim- to stop future protests.
Tired of being outwitted by Mute, the beard man cleared his throat again and declared.

“Whether you confess your participation as the ringleader of the November18th protest or not, we the members of the Student Punishment Council will reach a decision”.

The beard man sat back down while an Alakori guard dressed in his official uniform of green and purple walked in and escorted Mute out of the large air-conditioned room to allow the SPC further deliberations. Mute knew that they were just being ceremonial- his judgment had already been decided before the sitting. Mute was escorted in again but was asked to remain standing. Another beard man opened a file and read out Mute’s judgment.

“Mr. Tunapa Elapa Mushel, A.k.A Mute of the department of Kerosene Distillation, Faculty of Engineering, University of Alakori is hereby served this judgment on the 31st day of March 2016. The Student Punishment Council (SPC) has found you guilty of causing unrest within the school environment and inciting students against the school authorities by mobilizing students into protest actions on the 19th day of November 2015. This action put on hold every activity on campus and thus created a turbulent environment for academic activities to thrive.” He paused then continued, “as a result of this offence the SPC issue you as consequence an extra semester with hard labour in the University of Alakori”.

It is Mute’s turn today, it might be yours tomorrow.
Stand with Mute and fall out with injustice.

This is a work of fiction, the names, events, places and dates are not real. Any resemblance to reality could only be a miracle!