Junkyard Blues
294 Pages
English
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Junkyard Blues

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294 Pages
English

Description

In Cameroon life isn�t only like living in limbo, it is like living in the very centre of a hellish junkyard where dreams are dumped and wishes shattered at will by forces which can barely be controlled or understood. It is in this junkyard of dreams that Jude Maimo finds himself after years of studies and obtaining a university degree that could not even procure him a decent job. Reluctantly living under his brother�s care after having failed grossly in an attempt to be independent, and doing a job that is more than an insult to him, he still hopes to one day live his simple dream; furthering his education long enough to have a respectable and decent job that could make him truly independent. Entangled in a relationship he can barely understand and weighed down by the daily temptations of natural life, a long lost friend from back in his school days suddenly appears as a light to lead him to the end of the tunnel. But a little too late, he discovers that the promised light of salvation is just another face of darkness, a darkness that wants more than his soul, a darkness that can only lead to tragedy�.

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Published 24 June 2013
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EAN13 9789956790562
Language English
Document size 1 MB

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Exrait

Al Moye
JUNKYARD BLUES
In Cameroon life isn’t only like living in limbo, it is like living in the
very centre of a hellish junkyard where dreams are dumped and
wishes shattered at will by forces which can barely be controlled or
understood. It is in this junkyard of dreams that Jude Maimo fi nds
himself after years of studies and obtaining a university degree
that could not even procure him a decent job. Reluctantly living
under his brother’s care after having failed grossly in an attempt
JUNKto be independent, and doing a job that is more than an insult to
him, he still hopes to one day live his simple dream; furthering his
education long enough to have a respectable and decent job that
could make him truly independent. Entangled in a relationship he
can barely understand and weighed down by the daily temptations
of natural life, a long lost friend from back in his school days
suddenly appears as a light to lead him to the end of the tunnel. But
a little too late, he discovers that the promised light of salvation is
just another face of darkness, a darkness that wants more than his
soul, a darkness that can only lead to tragedy…. YARD
AL MOYE hails from the North West Region of Cameroon. He
holds a Bachelor of Science Degree in Medical Laboratory Science
from the University of Buea, Cameroon.
BLUES
Langaa Research & Publishing
Common Initiative Group
P.O. Box 902 Mankon
Bamenda
North West Region Al Moye
Cameroon

The Junkyard Blues









Al Moye
























Langaa Research & Publishing CIG
Mankon, BamendaPublisher:
Langaa RPCIG
Langaa Research & Publishing Common Initiative Group
P.O. Box 902 Mankon
Bamenda
North West Region
Cameroon
Langaagrp@gmail.com
www.langaa-rpcig.net



Distributed in and outside N. America by African Books Collective
orders@africanbookscollective.com
www.africanbookcollective.com






ISBN: 9956-790-51-6

© Al Moye 2013









DISCLAIMER
All views expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not necessarily
reflect the views of Langaa RPCIG.Prologue…


e felt it start from the pit of his stomach; a big ugly wave that was
only bound to go up toward his mouth. His crowded stomach H gave a name to that wave before his brain could register it; it was
nausea and it was so strong that he knew everything inside his stomach was
going to come spilling out at any moment. He parted his wet lips waiting for
the mixture of horror churning inside his stomach to start the flow out, but
only a thick vapor mixed with a horrible stench came out and hung before
his face for almost an eternity before dissolving into the wet night air.
What’ve I done to myself? He asked the quiet wet night, knowing full well the
answer and also that it was not going to matter. It was already done, and
there was no going back. The half bottle of cheap whisky was now resting in
his stomach, and not resting in peace as the waves of nausea hitting him
prophesied.
What’ve I done to myself? Why did I do this to myself?
The question was there again, but there was no answer coming forth
from the wet night. Only the drizzling rain leaking down continuously from
the dark blanket of a sky above him and soaking him wet right to the bones.
It was like everything in the world was against him, fighting against his every
move, even the damned nature itself. The work of God! The only one bit of
good news was that he was not feeling the cold that was there, the furnace
inside his stomach was still doing a good job of heating things up.
Then why the goose bumps, padre?
He looked at his arm under the soft light cast by the street lamp above
him; the goose bumps were still there and actually seemed to grow larger in
size. In fact, he could swear that they looked now like tiny oranges. A new
wave hit his stomach again and he opened his mouth waiting for what was
going to come, but only the thick foul smelling vapor came out again, a
vapor that reeked only of liquor.
God! He wanted it to happen, the waiting was killing him. He wanted to
free his stomach as fast as possible before the next ordeal…A cold chill ran
down his spine as the thought ran through his head. He felt the goose bumps
growing in size again.
iii
God what I’m I doing?
God didn’t care! Yes, he felt deep inside like God didn’t care, at least not
about the next ordeal. In fact he was certain God had never cared, not about
the things that had happened before or that were going to still happen. He
didn’t care about the little sacrifice he was going to make to put things right;
that was just trivial matters to Him.
But he could handle it; he was prepared to handle it.
He looked up at the dark sky, the drizzling rain landing on his face. It
was impossible to see anything up there. It was just dark and black up there.
Dark and black and seemingly empty. Was there anything up there? Some
huge powerful something that was actually there and controlling everything?
Some huge powerful something that could see everything and could see him
now? And if there was that huge powerful something up there was it looking
down at him right now? Looking at his face right now? And was that
almighty powerful something happy now?
He shook his head sadly; there was absolutely nothing up there, just a
bunch of dark thick clouds that were mercilessly leaking down water on his
face. A thick dark cloud that was just like the dark cloud that had embraced
him and did not want to let go. But they will disappear; he knew that. The
rain clouds and his own dark cloud, they will disappear when the light came.
And the light was going to come. All that was needed was only the small
sacrifice. And nothing was going to stop him from making that sacrifice, not
even…
Are you sure?
He halted his thoughts for a while feeling the trembling trying to take
hold of him again, but he did not need that, not right now.
I’m doing it!
He looked down at the half-empty bottle of whisky lying on the ground
beside him. Just the sight of it caused another wave of nausea to rise. The
new wave culminated in a stinking belch and a mouthful of saliva that he had
to spit on the ground. He wanted to blame all this on the liquor, but he knew
deep inside that the liquor was only part of the big picture. It was the idea of
the sacrifice he was going to make, the idea of having made the decision, of
having finally seen the true light and the color of that light - Not the light
that was preached by the multitude who knew nothing about the true face of
iv
God - But the real light that controlled this world. He knew that light and
that face and it was not what anybody believed.
He looked up at the dark heavens again. Yes, the true face of God, the
face that was not up there or anywhere else near this world. The face that
was hidden very far from humanity, and had a wide smile filled with
amusement on it as things went bad and bad with the matchsticks roaming
around the world in the name of human beings. That was the face, and what
he knew was that that face had forgotten about him or truthfully that that
face had never even known of his existence. It did not care, not one bit. A
tiny smile formed on his own wet lips as another wave of nausea hit him.
This time the quantity of saliva that landed on the ground was double the
original quantity.
“Nobody cares,” he whispered to the dark heavens, “Nobody cares, not
even you; nobody.”
That was the only single truth in the world and he knew it; the only
reality that made any sense. The world was for the brave and the courageous.
For those people who could lift their arms and take what was theirs for
taking and do so without any care. All he wanted to do was play his own part
and be one of the braves. Create his own niche and start taking the right
steps in his life. That was all. And the beautiful thing was that God did not
care, not one bit.
Or it is God’s will!
Another wave and another belch, this one stinking to high heavens. It
was close, very close and all that was necessary was for him to relax and let
go…
He closed his eyes, feeling the world spin out of control. The wave in his
stomach was now a hurricane, rocking everything and sweeping up
everything that was in its way. He felt like he was simply going to blackout
and disappear in the blackness, and part of him was really trying to embrace
the idea. But he knew that that part of him was the weak part. The weak
stupid and cowardly part of him that was afraid to take the big step. It was
that weak stupid cowardly part of him that had been afraid before and had
made him believe in all the silly lies about life. And he was tired of listening
to that stupid part of him.
v
He slowly pushed himself off the wet ground with some determination,
opening his eyes as he did.
“I’m doing this,” he told himself, “I’m doing this and nothing’s going to
stop me.”
It is God’s will!
He was going to make the single call, a simple call, and then everything
was going to be alright.
Before he took two steps, he started vomiting…

vi
Chapter one

he moon looks bigger through this tiny hole, he thought looking up at the
full moon that occupied all his view. It was as if the moon was just T hanging outside the hole, mocking him for his lack of freedom to
see it from outside. All this lack of freedom because of a few hot
words…Because of a case of simple straight forward and justifiable anger.
But it could’ve been prevented, he thought feeling the bitterness seep
into his heart at having to admit that. He had been stupid, stupid and rash
like a child, and now he was paying for it, and paying for it in grand style.
But it was your right, your right as a human being and the fool knew it.
Tell that to the birds, he smiled sadly looking at the huge moon that seemed
to be hanging just out of his cell’s tiny window.
Jude Maimo could not sleep or even start entertaining that idea. This was
a new world, a different world and he was not part of it and was never going
to be part of it. This was hell on earth, probably worst than hell, and he was
alive and already in that hell. If there was something he knew, it was that he
would never be the same again after this night. There was no way a human
being could continue to be the same, to see the world with the same view
after stepping past the threshold of the cell.
And all this because of his stupidity, because of his big mouth. A new
wave of anger started rising again, anger that he could not know who to
direct to. He could say it was the old fool’s fault, or that it was the fault of
the poverty he knew so well, or the imperfection of the world, but at the end
of the day he should’ve kept his mouth shut. That was what the world he was
living in demanded; just for the lowlifes like him to keep their mouths shut
and forget the silly word called justice.
Just stop thinking and try to sleep. You’re here now and there’s nothing you can do
about it but try to catch some sleep and see if you can feel at home.
That was like wishing to be outside under that moon. There was no way
that could happen, and even if he was fainting there was no way he could do
it on the floor he was standing on. The floor that was covered with rough
and sharp pebbles sticking out of it like some merciless sharp stakes. It was a
job that only a real sadist could have done, a sadist whose sole purpose on
1
earth was to make people suffer. The pebbles looked like they could tear
open his skin just as easily as a blade, and there was no way on earth he was
going to lie on some blades sticking out of the earth and waiting for his skin.
But the pebbles were not the only problem…
There was also the issue of the thick awful stench that was hanging
heavily around the cell, hanging very close to the floor of the cell. The thick
awful stench that was slowly rising in thick heavy waves from the heap of
feces at one corner of the cell. The heap of feces that was already a day old,
and that was going to increase in size and shape before the coming of a new
day. That horrible aroma coming out of the heap of feces was too heavy to
even rise a few centimeters above the floor. It was dense enough to
completely choke and suffocate a human being. But that was not even all the
reason why he couldn’t try to sleep, not the stench, not the blade-like
pebbles. No, he was certain he could manage the too horrors, but what he
was not going to manage and did not even want to start making assumptions
about was the issue of the three men coiled on the floor and appearing to
sleep so peacefully.
As if they’re in a five star hotel room with a king size bed, he shook his head in
wonder and awe, turning away from the tiny hole of a window to look at
them. How can they do this? He asked himself looking at the three men on
the floor. How can they be sleeping so peacefully here? With the stench and
the rough floor? It was a marvel to see them, an issue he would’ve loved to
think of in some light of respect if that other part of his mind could allow
him. That part of his mind that said it was all just a façade, just a way to fool
him to lower his guard so they could get him.
He saw one of the men on the floor moan and sigh then sat up as if he
had heard his thoughts and wanted to prove he was not all wrong. The man
started scratching his bare skeleton-like chest like a chimpanzee picking out
some fleas from its hide. The man was the man who had handled him earlier
that evening, forcing him to call him “Chef.” The man smiled up at Jude
when he saw Jude looking at him, and Jude felt his knees hurt again where
they had landed on the floor earlier that evening.
“What’re you doing standing there?” the man asked still scratching his
chest, “Are you on some guard duty?”
2
You can’t sleep too, can you? Jude wanted to laugh. You were just pretending just
like the others, just trying to fool me into forgetting what you can do, what you’re planning
to do.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, Schoolboy,” the man said.
“I can’t sleep,” Jude murmured.
“Why?”
“I can’t sleep on this floor.”
The man cracked and laughed heartily not able to hide the amusement in
the air. “He can’t sleep on the floor,” the man laughed again, scratched his
chest some more and smiled up at Jude, “Don’t worry I’ll look for a nice
comfortable mattress for you tomorrow, don’t just worry.” The man stood
and said again, “He can’t sleep on the floor,” then cracked up again. The man
was still laughing as he urinated on the heap of feces, the force of the urine
sending the sick aroma a couple more centimeters above the floor. “Don’t
worry, Schoolboy, you’ll be able to sleep tomorrow, I swear to God you’ll be
able to sleep tomorrow. All you need’s a mattress,” the man said turning
away from the heap of feces. The man yawned noisily and smiled at Jude and
noticed Jude looking at the heap of feces, “Don’t worry about it, you’ll clean
this place tomorrow till it shines.”
What! Jude wanted to scream. It was not possible, they could not do that
to him, they could not make him clean all that. It was impossible, and even if
someone had a gun at his head and asked him to do it he would say no. But
somewhere deep inside he could see them making him, see himself cleaning
it and even smiling as they laughed. God where am I?
“Be a good guard and kill any mosquitoes trying to bite me, you hear?”
the man said and joined his friends on the floor. Before Jude could even
think two straight thoughts the man was fast asleep again - or pretended to
be.
Jude felt the anger come again. He hated the three men on the floor with
all his might, hated them for the nonchalance that surrounded all their
actions, hated them for what they could do to him. You’re in their world, a
voice said to him inside, and they’re not even originally from this world.
They are just victims too, just victims who’ve learnt to adapt without much
fighting. It was his own fault, he was not strong enough to survive in this
world and they knew it. They were toying with him because he was not
3
strong enough. But was it only toying with him that they were doing? Was it
not possible that they could do what they had been telling him they were
going to do to him? He felt his stomach tighten inside.
I don’t belong here!
“You’ll get used to it in no time,” one of them had said to him early that
evening.
It was insane, even if he knew it was possible, even if his intellectual
mind believed in the possibility. But only a totally insane human being wants
to get used to something like this, sleeping on the rough pebbles and choking
on that stench and not knowing when some sick fellow sleeping beside you
would decide to take a particular interest in the size of your anus. It was
absurd, completely absurd.
I want to get out of here, he told himself turning back to peep at the full
moon, I want to be out there and I can give anything to do that. Even calling
Derrick? Yes, even calling Derrick. If only he could make that call, that simple
but difficult call, he would be free…
“I just want to make a call,” he had pleaded with the police officer who
had processed him, “Just one call please.”
“Everybody wants to make a call,” the police officer had replied already
pushing him towards the cellblock.
“You don’t understand!”
“Do you think so?” the police officer laughed.
“What I mean’s I want to call my brother,” Jude explained even though
he could see the only effect his explanation was making was none, “He can
come and solve this,” he said hating the sound of it, “Please!”
“You want to call your brother?”
“Yes.”
“That’s sweet,” the police officer said and smiled, “I want to call my
brother too,” he laughed and pushed Jude along, “Let me tell you something,
young man, once you’re here you’re here and what that means is that you’ll
have to spend some time here. So, you can only call your brother or your
mother or whoever you want to call when the time comes, and the time
comes when I decide.”
Jude could see there was nothing he could do to persuade the man. It
was set and set on solid concrete and there was nothing he could do about it.
4
And was calling Derrick actually the right thing to do? There was still Niba (yes, but
he did not have Niba’s number offhand, he had Derrick’s number instead).
God, what did I put myself in? He could see Derrick smiling and telling his
wife in that over patronizing voice of his, “He thought he was already a man.
When you tell a child that life’s not easy he thinks you’re just joking with
him…”
“When?” Jude asked the police officer.
“What!? Are you asking me a question?”
“I just wanted to…”
“Move!”
When the officer pushed him into the cell, smiling as the three members
of the cell hooted their welcome, he said, “You’ll call your brother,” he
looked at his watch, “Monday morning.” And then he was gone.
It was Saturday; early Saturday evening.

5

6
Chapter Two


hen the harassment had started!
Well, it did not just start immediately. He was a new breed, a new T specimen being introduced into a new world, a world that was
already occupied by the true occupants. He was a new animal being
introduced into a cage that already had other animals and these ones a step
toward wild. And like good animals there had to be that period of taking a
step back to study the new breed, to sniff the new breed out and see what it
was made of.
But the period of sniffing around could never last forever, for after the
observation was always the prodding…
“So, what do we’ve here?” one of the three men looking at him asked
smoking his cigarette and sitting on the rough floor, a look of strange eternal
joy on his face.
The three men looked like they were brothers, not that they looked alike
or anything close to that, but something about them gave that air of looking
like people who belonged together, people who had always belonged
together. They were all thin, almost skeletal, with faces that were completely
amused and enjoying everything that was happening around them.
“Why are you here, Schoolboy?” another one asked smiling up at him,
“Can I call you Schoolboy?”
Jude glared at the man.
“You don’t look too happy being here, are you?” the man said and the
others laughed, “So, why are you here? Eh, Schoolboy?”
None of your business! Jude wanted to shout that at the man’s face, but he
could only glare at the man wanting him to see the glare and keep his
distance.
The man smiled jovially up at him actually seeming to enjoy what he was
seeing on Jude’s face, “Can you even talk? I think he can’t talk. We’ve us a
lady who can’t even talk,” that cracked them up as if it was the funniest thing
on earth.
“Don’t worry he’ll sing like a bird when the time comes,” the one with
the cigarette said.
7