Dear Friends,
I am writing this from England, something terrible has just happened to a good friend of mine - and I need your opinion.
Back then in Nigeria, Ndifereke Ukim was my classmate in school, we also grew up together - we were neighbours our families were close. When we were in the University, people thought we were brothers, we had an umbilical closeness unusual for young men our age.
We did the same things, we attended the same parties, chased the same girls, we even supported the same football club, Calabar Rovers. The only difference between us was while he was NPN, I was PRP - that was the socialist in me but apart from that we had very similar interests.
When we graduated we worked for the same Engineering firm, we thought this filial brotherhood was going to continue but in 2013 - I was awarded a Cheveron scholarship to study for a Masters in England, I was excited and at the same time downcast. Yes I had secured a scholarship alright but I was going to leave my brother and my friend behind. I had an uncle then who worked for Shell and I knew Shell was also awarding scholarships to students, he promised he was going to help Ndifreke. With this promise, we parted - I arrived England the autumn of 2013.
Hendsworth is a small community just North of Herts in greater London and it has a thriving Nigerian community. The University of Hendsworth has probably graduated more Nigerians than any other University in England, it even goes by the nickname University of Benin because of the large number of Bini indigenes.
I settled in well. I thought I would miss home but i didn't - this was like home away from home. Study was gruelling - but thank goodness the scholarship took care of my needs - that meant I didn't have to take on some of those odd jobs stacking shelves.
My Masters took just one year - but within that time my life changed. I met a sweet English girl called Samantha, we were course mates, she's from Saintree South of England. We fell in love and before you could say "cupid", we were talking marriage and wedding bells.
Everything had to be done quickly. You see I had just 2 months to go before heading back home, all i had was a student's visa. If i missed this opportunity i knew the British High Commission would not permit be back into England.
So it was all rushed, a quick email to my befuddled parents. I remember my mother asking me over the phone, " are you sure you don't want to do the traditional marriage!?"
It took us 3 weeks, a week before my student's visa would have expired. We were married at the local Hendsworth marriage registry. I thought it was going to be a quiet affair but it turned out to be a raucous celebration. The Nigerian community got behind Samantha and I, the wedding even made it on the front cover of the Evening Hendsworth Daily Herald, we became instant celebrities.
Looking back now I could see why. There was a thriving Nigerian community but it was miserably insular - the Nigerians only married themselves, most of the businesses were owned by Nigerians. Just two years before I arrived, a Nigerian had opened a private school and called it "O O O", then I realised there was also a thriving brotherhood community. It was 99.9% Nigerian, 60% were members of the brotherhood. The only person who was not Nigerian in that school was Col. Picklesworth, the school security guard, a retired world war two British veteran. He claimed to be 92 years old. He only talked about the war in Burma and stank of aromatic English snuff. My wedding was the third inter racial marriage in Hendsworth - the last one was 8 years ago.
I had barely settled in with Samantha when i received a letter from my old friend Ndifreke, he had been awarded a scholarship and was coming to England in 2 weeks. I had almost forgotten about him, we were still friends but things had changed, I was married. I panicked, where was he going to stay? What was worst he was coming with an uncle, who had just recently retired.
I could not even discuss this with my wife, it was out of the question. I did the only thing i could do, I scrapped up my savings and paid for a two bedroom flat for Ndifreke in an old abandoned farm, 30 minutes walk from my house. Of course the agreement was he pay me back; one of the things you quickly learn in the white man's country is, nothing is free. Did you know we even pay for the air we breathe? There's a stealth tax called, “the green house tax", it's an item in our general council tax bill. The British government says it's tax to help offset the cost of keeping our air clean from green house effect.
Ndifreke and his Uncle settled in quick. Uncle, was a quiet man in his 60's, he had given 32 of his productive years to Gold City Bank. He was expecting a huge gratuity / pension. I remember Ndifreke telling me it was going to be in the region of N80m and he was expecting N30m in the next few weeks. Uncle, had fallen in love with Hendsworth and had decided to buy a house; like we say in Nigeria, "cash down". But events were about to change.
On Tuesday the 26th , I remember that day very well, because it was the night
Arsenal played an away match at Stamford Bridge. Samantha was also ill that day, she had a bad case of food poisoning - something she had eaten, i had been nursing her the whole day. So at about 12 midnight , I received this call from Ndifeke, he was crying and his voice was shaking, his words were unclear, he was saying something like, "please come over to the house quickly i think some people tried to kill Uncle".
I was shocked, I asked him what he was talking about. He said his Uncle had been stabbed in the neck and was lying lifeless bleeding profusely.
I grabbed my jacket - I told Samantha i would be back. I have no car. Ndifreke's house is an old abandoned farm. It was on its own, no other houses in the vicinity. It was a 30 minute walk from my place with a small bridge separating us, on your right hand side was the Hendsworth cemetery. The farm was in a corner cut off from the road, in fact you wouldn't even know there was a house there. The road to the farm is well lit. I half walked and I half ran. I think I got there in 25 minutes.
When I arrived I saw Uncle lying in the foyer in a pool of blood, he had a deep stab wound in front of his neck just below his adam's apple . There was a lot of blood on the floor.
I asked Ndifreke what happened, he told me he was watching the Arsenal match in his room and some Nigerian visitors came to visit his uncle. He said he couldn't hear what was going on because his televison set was loud. He came out later after the match to find his uncle lying in a pool of blood. That was what he told me.
I reached into my pocket to grab my phone and realised i had dropped it on the dining table in my hurry to leave the house. Ndifreke had not yet installed his landline and he told me his mobile phone was faulty and out of credit. I was confused here I was standing with a friend who had just arrived UK with an Uncle who was probably a murder victim.
With no phone lines and no neighbours around, I told Ndifereke i'll have to walk back home and get some help.
When I arrived my house i received a voicemail recording call from Ndifreke, he said he had remembered the landlord had an old Volkswagen in the garage, he had found the keys put his uncle's body in the back seat and driven to a small Nigerian clinic 10 minutes down the road, the message said on arrival the doctor had pronounced his uncle dead, that was where the message ended.
Unfortunately Samantha began to vomit violently and became very ill, I forgot all about Ndifreke. I spent the next one hour trying to stabilise my wife's vomiting and rising temperature. I was so exhausted i can't even remember falling asleep.
I woke up 7.30am there were over 80 miss calls on my phone. They were all from Ndifreke he said, he had been arrested by the police. A quick look over at Sam who was looking much better today. I caught a cab to Hensworth Police Station. Ndifreke was behind bars, i asked to speak to him. I was led to his cell, a narrow dingy caged enclosure reeking of bleach and toilet cleanser. He was in very bad shape. The police officer with a stomach like a doughnut excused us.
Ndifreke cut the image of a miserable broken man, I could hardly get a word in he was sobbing the whole time. When he had calmed down , I asked him what happened and why the police had arrested and detained him as the prime suspect. I was already getting angry, this had the stink of racism.
This was how our conversation went:
NDI:They are saying I should have reported the incident last night at the police station.
ME: So what time did you report the incident?
NDI: This morning
ME: Why this morning, i thought you said you had a car last night?
NDI: There was just so much going on all at once, I was in a state of shock
ME: What time did you get back from the hospital
NDI: 3am
ME: What happened between 3am and 7am, this morning, what were you doing that you couldn't drive down to the Police Station. Uncle was stabbed at about 12am and it took you about 6 hours to report the incident- Why? Do you see why the Police will see it as being suspicious. This was a murder, a very serious crime and not just on anyone else but your uncle!! The Police will wonder why the delay. So where did you go to?
NDI: I drove back to the farm.
ME: And you didn't go to the police station when you came back from the hospital
NDI; No
ME: Again i ask - Why?
NDI: I was tired, shocked and confused.
ME: Ok, Is that all?
NDI: They want to know why i took Uncle to the small clinic down the road and not the Hendsworth General hospital, where the case would have been handled professionally.
ME: I don't understand.
NDI: They are saying Uncle's body should not have been tampered with since he was murdered.
ME: This is not looking good. But they are right. Between you and I - we know Uncle was dead by the time I arrived. I am just wondering why you didn't take him to the General Hospital.
NDI: The clinic was closer.
ME: But Uncle was pronounced dead. The clinic upon finding out what happened to Uncle - should not have touched his body any further. This was a murder victim. Infact they would have insisted that you report the matter to the police. Now,to the police this would look like, evidence had been tampered with and all this occurred within the period you were yet to report the incident to the police.
NDI: What's worst his morning a lot of people came to the house to console me, I didn't even notice when Auntie Nse picked up the mop and wiped the blood from the floor and from the wall.
ME: What!!!Why did your auntie do that?
NDI: She's an illiterate.
ME: But that's not how the police will look at it. That's like somebody who knows you and is deliberately destroying evidence at the crime scene. When did this happen, was it before or after the cops had arrived?
NDI: Before the Police arrived.
ME: That's bad, did you ask her to mop the floor
NDI: I said i didn't even know when she did it.
ME: That's really bad. What about the men that came to visit your uncle - do you know them?
NDI: No! What more the police have just discovered Uncle withdrew £9,000 ( about £3m) from his Wales Nation account yesterday and that money is now missing. Now I am the prime suspect.
As I write this the Nigerian Hensworth community is up in arms - there is a pressure group with the hashtag, #WhitemanFreeNdifrekeAtOnce
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
How would you best describe Ndifreke's predicament?
1) It is 50/50 maybe - maybe not.
2) It is likely he did not stab the Uncle.
3) He had nothing to do with his Uncle's death let him go
4) I am very sure he stabbed his Uncle.
5) He had nothing do with his Uncle's death but why didn't he report to the police at once and why was the blood wiped off at the crime scene. It is suspicious ?
6)Maybe he killed the Uncle by mistake and tried to cover up.
7) It is likely he stabbed the Uncle.
8) It all sounds staged - he did it. He did not report to the police in the night and someone wiped the blood from the crime scene.
9) He is innocent but the missing gaps make him look guilty.
10) That's a hardened criminal crying crocodile tears.
11) A criminal gang stabbed the Uncle and made away with the money.
12) Another racist attempt by the corrupt British Police Force to accuse another innocent Nigerian.
13) I don't care if he did it - i just feel sorry for the boy.
14) I am confused but i don't think he did it.
15) Too many unanswered questions.
No comments:
Post a Comment