Proverbs of the Lost

He stood in the middle of the circle as the trial commenced. The council before him, the citizens of Argo behind him. He was still as stone, lifeless while the images of deceased Jojobian children appeared in a hologram projecting from an official’s hand. Only his eyes fixated on his home flag, draping over the podium. Tears rolling down my grandmother’s face.

“We are here to propose the immediate execution of Commandant Seriu for his part in the Jojo School Poisoning,” the official began. “Two weeks ago, a primary school of 140 children were poisoned during the second break of day. It was discovered after only a few children return to homeroom, each of their lips blue, hands, and feet cold, and pupils close to dilating. When instructors went out to the play area to retrieve the other children, all were scattered face down in the newly built open tree houses and on the trampolines that covers the ground. The snacks left in the treehouses for the children were found to have been swapped with ackee fruit, elderberries and strychnine made intentionally poisonous when eaten. Some children had eaten more than others, causing their deaths to be more instant.”

It was said that my grandfather remained still throughout the proceeding, not even a sound left his lips. His eyes still resting on the Argio flag.

“We are shocked and disappointed that Commandant Seriu committed such a bloody and cruel act in our society. Especially with so many years of service he has given for the Jagu Territories.”

“What proves your accusation?” asked the Chief Counsel.

“We have evidence of his military ring left nearby one of the tree-houses the day of the massacre. There are also traces of ackee fruit and elderberries from his clothes as well as that of blood potentially from one of the child victims.”

“Could it have come from trying to help some of the children affecting by the poisoning?”

“This we had hoped until we found footage of his appearance near the play area of the tree houses the night before the massacre and surprisingly of his apparent hostility towards the territorial general of the Jojobo.”

Grandmother told me that she warned Grandfather to be wary of general of Jojobo. He and my grandfather were once comrades in training together. At times, they would compete against one another for fun, though Grandmother says the general was a sore loser. They would often use the seal of their inner body oil to test their resilience, the first seal of whomever breaks loses. And often, it was the generals. Grandfather said it was not a big deal though since the general would have remembered times in which Grandfather looked him for guidance during training. There were many sectors of the military with men from all three territories, but this sector comprised of 40 men, only 5 were from Argo, 10 from Coco and the rest from Jojobo. And given the current disputes between Argo and Jojobo at the time, he was relieved to find the general’s disapproval of the conflict. Grandmother, however, said that was his mistake, he trusted only the good in him. He believed with this trust the general would speak on his behalf, to defy the social norm of choosing a side based on allegiance instead of truth, but he didn’t. Worse, he gave in, testifying about their disagreement in how Grandfather did not like to listen to his advice often and sometimes felt hostility towards other soldiers. Coupled with the evidence presented by the official, Grandfather’s innocence was jeopardized even further. The accusations, charges and evidence against my grandfather were so great, a barn owl swallowed any chance of redemption. An old saying in my home territory. That sometimes a story, if crafted well enough, could paint someone as the culprit so convincingly that there would be no of hope for their defense.

It was said that jealousy executed my grandfather… or was it? I remembered the visits the general of Jojobo made to our home. I remembered how he always greeted me with a warm hug and smile, asking about how my studies were going. I remembered how he and my grandfather would discuss the training they endured each day and which philosophies would grant more peaceful bonds within the territories. Thinking back on it now, though, there were some signs I ignored as well. While the general was always willing to discuss improvements, whenever grandfather would come up with ideas to better the military, the general seemed to shrug off his efforts or often look away. He told Grandfather once that he was better off sticking to his training and earning his merits with the leaders. Grandfather told him that he already earned enough merits when one of the leaders offered him a role in which he could oversee the entire military force of Argo. The general stared for a moment, as if to perceive the future of this new possible assignment. It was strange, especially because after a long moment of stillness, he rose from his seat and left on the basis of sudden realization he had forgotten an assignment on his desk at the base. Even choosing not to stay for the dessert he loved so much that, according to him, grandmother made best. Was it then?

“Answer the question Ayda! Did you take the Osoosi Orisha Statue from the main Hall?”

“No sir.”

“So the great Orisha, himself, came alive and walked into your room?”

I did not respond. It could very well be possible that life somehow flowed through the statue for him to awaken and walk straight into my room. Perhaps as a sign of the possible future justice he would bring in response to all that was done unjustly to Argo. But that would not help at this point.

“Since she dares not to respond, we are left to carry out punitive and precautionary measures. While it is not proven that she may have had ulterior motive to take the sculpture, the possibility of rebellion is too much a risk. Even if the statue is not in her hands, she has already absorbed enough oil from it that can fuel all other citizens of Argo to start an internal war. Lieutenant, bring the paraben needle.”

The needle was 13 inches long and 2 ½ inches wide with blue solution inside. I tried rigorously to loosen the handcuffs on my hand and get up from the table where I was forced to lay, with no success. I cried for help, but others could only stand in horror. What could a school of collegiate students do after all? Especially without being framed as an accomplice if one tried to help. Ashanti tried to hold herself firmly, her face content but trembled each time the needle was pointed in her direction.

“Is it ready?” “Yes.”

A prick pierces my skin causing slight discomfort at first before releasing an unforgettable weight of pain throughout my body. The kind that could only come from extracting all the oil out of one’s body. My body stiffened, my eyes water, my mouth open without sound trying to endure the amount oil being taken from inside each time the needle penetrated me. After 10 minutes, the extraction was done and I laid there, hopeless and enraged. The lieutenant came over and lifted my head to survey my face. Sweat and tears cover my face and my body shaking. The handcuffs were then unlocked, and I laid there on the counter shaking from cold, trauma and rage. I laid there, replaying the incident repeatedly. When I awoke unexpectedly in the evening, a barn owl appeared.