The LONGEST WAIT

Chapter 12

Tim's Stories' THE LONGEST WAIT

CHAPTER 12

The next few days were very busy for me. Mr. Adam Lawson had already gone back to Tripoli, and I was now on my own. I had been busy looking for a means to get to Italy. I was fresh out of money. In fact, the only money I had on me was a thousand Euros that I had been given by Mr. Lawson. I also did not have the proper documentation to take a flight to mainland Italy. I had to do things the hard way. That meant, I had to go by boat.

I had been able to get connected with an Italian smuggler who was ready to take about thirty of us to Italy. All of us were Sub-Saharan Africans. There were twenty men, seven women and three children. We were to pay five hundred Euros each. That was not a problem for me because I still had the money Mr. Lawson had given me. The journey was set for two days' time. We were all encouraged to get psychologically prepared because the journey was a tedious one and anything could happen at any time.

The journey kicked off at night. We had to leave under the cover of darkness so as not to be detected by the authorities. By 9:00 PM, we were all gathered at a secret location at the coast and by 11:00 PM, we were already at sea on our way to Italy. We were made to understand that the journey would take just a few hours. However, we were deceived because by morning, we were still at sea. We hadn't made any significant progress. That was when we started asking questions and the Italian who our guide was told us to be patient.

What actually happens during such journey is that the smugglers always avoid the normal routes taken by ships. They do this to avoid any confrontation with coast guards. Avoiding the normal routes mean they are compelled to take different routes which were more dangerous and unpredictable. That means putting everyone's life at risk, including the smugglers.

It was the third day of our journey now and we still weren't anywhere close to Italy. We had all run out of food and water. We were heavily dehydrated and the children were crying ceaselessly. Then the worst happened. We ran out of fuel. We started drifting as we could no longer be able to control the boat. We became desperate and started complaining loudly to the smuggler, but he kept assuring us that everything would be alright.

The smuggler, realizing that we had become desperate and there was going to be a mutiny, brought out a satellite phone and called someone. When the call ended, he told us that we should calm down. He said he had ordered for fuel and the delivery would be made soon. Our hopes were restored when he said that and in spite of all the odds, our moods brightened a little. But darkness came and we still hadn't seen any fuel deliveries.

On the fourth day, we saw a fast-moving boat approaching us. We all raised a cry of joy. We were convinced that our fuel was finally going to be delivered and we could continue on our journey. We were wrong. The boat came close to our own rickety boat and the smuggler got in and promised us that he would be back within the next hour with our fuel. He went and never came back. We had been abandoned.

It was on the morning of the sixth day that it dawned on us that we had been abandoned. Everyone on the boat was angry and desperate. The children were sick and crying. The boat was drifting dangerously and there was nothing we could do. We started paddling with our hands in order to keep the boat on course. We didn't even know which was the right course. We paddled until our hands were numbed but we still were not making any progress.

Soon, afternoon came and the sun was so hot that we thought we were going to melt. We were completely exposed to the elements. In the night, we suffered extreme cold and there was nothing we could do. In the afternoons, we suffered extreme heat and sun burn and there was still nothing we could do. We were all convinced that we were going to die. The only thing that kept us alive was the hope that we might somehow be rescued. We kept looking at the open sea and over the horizon, hoping for a rescue ship but none came.

In the morning of the seventh day, two of the three children died. The remaining one was terribly sick and there was nothing anyone could do. Our boat had drifted far into the sea, and we didn't even know where we were. The mothers of the two children were weeping desperately over the death of their children but no one really cared about their loss. We didn't even have the energy to care. It was every man for himself out here. Death had become our friend as we had started preferring to die than to continue in that suffering.

Some of the men proposed that the two children should be thrown into the sea, but I quickly objected.

"We cannot do that. We cannot throw the children overboard." I protested.

"Why?" One of the passengers asked. He could barely speak.

"Because of the sharks. Once the corpses are thrown overboard, the sharks will eat them. Once the sharks taste human blood, they will hunger for more and will start attacking our boat. You all know what will happen to us if this boat capsizes."

"That is true." Most of the people agreed with me. So, we kept the dead children with us.

On the eighth day, the children had already started decomposing because they were exposed to the elements. They were stinking so badly that most of us had to gag ourselves to avoid inhaling the pungent and repulsive stench emitted by the corpses. On that same day, the remaining child died of thirst and once again, we still couldn't dispose of the body for fear of what the sharks might do to us.

The situation on the small boat which was actually a large canoe fitted with an engine had become desperate, especially in terms of hygiene. We all hadn't bathed in more than a week and we all smelled badly. The three corpses on the boat made matters worse. We were terribly hungry and thirsty. A lot of the passengers had fallen sick, and some had running stomach because they had drunk sea water out of desperation. As you all know, sea water is very salty and not good for human consumption.

On the eleventh day, one of the men died. He was a Cameroonian and had been very sick for a while. Now we had four corpses on board. What were we going to do? There was a general outcry amongst the remaining passengers that we should dump the corpses in the sea.

"We can't keep living with decaying corpses, my friends. Let's dispose of them." One man proposed.

"How about the shark theory?" Another man asked. "I don't want to be eaten by sharks."

"We are all eventually going to die." The first man spoke.

"That is a possibility. However, every second counts. We can be rescued at any time. Let's be hopeful." Another man spoke.

"I am a Muslim. In my religion, a man has to be buried within twenty fours after he dies. Let's dispose of the corpses. Whatever happens, happens. If I die this way, it means Allah has willed it so. But we can't be living with corpses that have decayed."

After a lot of haggling and debating and arguing, we finally agreed to throw all the corpses into the sea. The women whose children had died were too weak to even say or do anything. They just sat there and watched with teary eyes as the corpses were thrown overboard. After the disposal of the corpses, the passengers were once more able to breathe again. However, a new problem had been created.

An hour later, for the first time since our journey started almost two weeks ago, we started seeing sharks. They had eaten the corpses, tasted human blood and now craved for more. They started bumping our rickety boat hoping that it would capsize, and we would all become their dinner. The boat rocked and swayed dangerously with each bump, and I saw grown men and women weep like babies, clinging to the boat desperately with all their remaining strength, preventing themselves from falling into the sea.

Towards nightfall, the sharks left but we all knew that they would return during the day. Suddenly, the sky started grumbling and rain started falling. We were all happy that it was raining. In fact, we considered it a gift from God. It was a timely intervention because for many days, we had all been drinking our urine. Yes, you heard me well. Urine had become a valuable commodity even worth more than gold. People peed in containers and drank their pee again when they felt thirsty. It was far much better than salt water.

As the rain fell, we were able to collect some water in our water bottles. That was a very welcome relief to our thirst. For the first time too, we were able to have a rainy bath. We all hadn't bathed in weeks. But the rain also had its own negative effects. It filled our boats and we all hard to work tirelessly, scooping out the water and pouring into the sea. If we didn't do that, the boat was going to sink, and we would all go to Davy Jones' Locker.

After three hours of rainfall, the rain stopped and then the cold set in. It became so cold that we thought we were all going to freeze to death. We all clung to each other, hoping that our bodies coming together would produce some heat. That was a good tactic because it worked.

The next morning, the Muslim, who was from Mali, said he could no longer take the suffering. He hadn't eaten in weeks just like the rest of us and he had finally reached his breaking point. He jumped into the sea and was never seen again. Everyone in the ship was completely taking by surprise. He had been one of the people who had been encouraging us to be strong. We didn't know he would end that way. We prayed that Allah received his soul in the life after though he had died by suicide.

Several times, I had contemplated suicide too. I was suffering seriously and there was a terrible ache in my stomach. I was hungry and thirsty and angry and sad and desperate. If not for the fact that I had a strong resolve and I had already come this close, I am sure I would have considered taking my life too. The suffering was too much. No normal human being could go through that kind of suffering and not wished to die instead.

We had now lost count of how long we had been at sea. It might be twenty days or more. We couldn't tell. By now, we had lost three other people, making a total of eight. We were all suffering immensely. Personally, I had already confessed my sins because I knew death could come at any time. I didn't want to be taken unawares. I wanted to be sure that I had made peace with my Maker when death finally shoved its ugly head through the door.

The next day, as we all lay on the boat, waiting to die, we saw a ship approaching. We all rose to our feet, even the very weak ones and waved and called desperately for the ship. But it was too far to hear any of us and soon, it disappeared over the horizon again, thereby dashing all our hopes and once again knocking everyone on board into a cold and sullen mood.

I had given up hope now. I thought of my two children, Chioma and Chidinma and wished them goodbye, I prayed to God that he should take good care of them. I thought of my old mother and realized that I was never going to be able to bury her. I would die before her. I prayed that God should bless and protect her. I thought of my wife, Chisom, for whom I had made this perilous journey. I asked her to forgive me for any wrongs I had done. I prayed that God should keep her alive so that someday, she could go back to Nigeria and take care of our children.

Haven made peace with myself and with God, I laid in one corner of the boat, waiting for death to come and take me. I drifted off to sleep and, in my dream, I saw my long dead father. He came to me and we spoke.

"My son." He spoke. "It is too early to join me. You have to be strong."

"But I am tired, dad, I want to die and have peace."

"You shouldn't talk like that. You can't die now. Your mother needs you. Your family needs you. Be strong, my son. BE STRONG!!!" He said and vanished. I ran after him, calling on him to come back but he was gone.

I was awoken from my sleep by the desperate cries from the passengers. We had a new problem. Our boat had developed a leak. There was a hole in the boat and large amounts of water was getting in. I finally knew the time for death had come.

TO BE CONTINUED...