On June 25th, after failing to prove that angels and genies exist, the Nigerian Police force decided that they could now risk sending me to live with Muslims who were facing the same accusations of apostacy and blasphemy, accusations which I did not deny but proudly stood by. They had earlier tried proselytizing – promising to bring a shaman who would prove that there was a supernatural world. I laughed and promised to convert if he could make me see a world which all my life I had never seen.
Days turned to weeks and the Boka didn’t come. From time to time I was allowed to sit in the office and watch the Islamic proselytiser Zakir Naik on a laptop, a privilege granted to no other inmate. They cajoled and pleaded, and sometimes they became angry, but they made no progress in their attempts to convert me.
One night a desperate Chief of Police told me that they had found someone who could make me vanish from my cell while vanishing himself. They would give me a knife and lock us both in a cell together. I would try to stab him and he would then vanish into thin air, taking me with him. I thought that these charlatans were either delusional or they wanted to be able to accuse me of attempting to escape – and maybe murder also. So I suggested someone else should do the stabbing and I would believe if they then vanished.
The next day the Chief told me how he had tortured a witch in Zamfara State back when he was a superintendent. This had been to help a local traditional ruler by saving one of the witch’s alleged victims. Eventually the old lady took them to the farm where she had buried her charms. She then used these charms to restore the “victim” to his senses and the matter was settled. I wondered how a man could be so cruel in the name of his god.
I gave them one last chance. I told them that I would be won back to the faith if any shaman, boka, cleric or sheikh could summon a genie or angel to stop a piece of paper reaching the ground when I let it fall. They initially accepted the challenge but then threatened to send me to a northern jail where I would be murdered by other inmates. I still refused to convert, and the Chief then went to his desk and signed three or four documents which he gave to his subordinates. To me he gave a nasty grin and I knew he had decided to hand me over to those Hausa Muslims who are always ready to kill blasphemers – whether in Denmark, Paris or Pakistan. It was a death sentence.
Early the next morning officers handcuffed me and conveyed me to a convoy of vehicles. Some phone calls were made (I think I can guess who to). While this was happening I noticed that two Christian members of staff had not turned up, nor had some sympathetic Muslim staff members with whom I had developed a warm relationship. There was an ominous silence among those present. They knew something serious was going to happen to me.
Arguments followed about which prison I should be taken to. The Chief decided that I should be taken to the big prison near the Emir’s palace but a call came through and we diverted to a different prison. The police told me I would be there for a fortnight but in fact I was there for two and a half years.
To be continued….
By Mubarak Bala
Writing from Europe