The Long-Term Central State Prison in The South Was A Whole Day S Journey Away From The Villages of The Northern Part of The Country. They Had

Download as docx, pdf, or txt
Download as docx, pdf, or txt
You are on page 1of 25

The Collector of Treasures

 
The long-
term central state
prison in the south
was a whole day‟s
journey away from
the villages of the
northern part of the
country. They had
left the village of
Puleng at about
nine that morning
and all daylong the
police truck droned
as it sped
southwards on
the wide, dusty
cross-country
track-road.
Theeveryday world
of ploughed fields,
grazing cattle, and
vast expanses of
bush and forest
seemedindifferent
to the hungry eyes
of the prisoner who
gazed out at them
through the wire
mesh grating at
theback of the
police truck. At
some point during
the journey, the
prisoner seemed to
strike at some
ultimatesource of
pain and loneliness
within her
being and,
overcome by it,
she slowly
crumpled forward
in awasted heap,
oblivious to
everything but her
pain. Sunset swept
by, then dusk, then
dark and still
thetruck droned
on, impersonally,
uncaring. At
first, faintly on the
horizon, the
orange glow of
the city lights of the
new independence
town ofGaborone
appeared like an
astonishing
phantom in the
overwhelming
darkness of the
bush, until thetruck
struck tarred
roads, neon lights,
shops and
cinemas, and
made the bush a
phantom amidst a
blazeof light. All
this passed
untimed,
unwatched by the
crumpled prisoner;
she did not stir as
the truck
finallydroned to a
halt outside the
prison gates. The
torchlight struck
the side of her face
like an agonizing
blow.Thinking she
was asleep,
the policeman
called out briskly:
“You must awaken
now. We have
arrived.”
He struggled with
the lock in the
dark and
pulled open the
grating. She
crawled painfully fo
rward,
insilence.Together,
they walked up a
short flight of stairs
and waited awhile
as the man
tapped lightly,
severaltimes, on
the heavy iron
prison door.
The night-duty
attendant opened
the door a crack,
peered
out andthen
opened the door
a little wider for
them to enter. He
quietly and
casually led the
way to a small
office,looked at his
colleague and a
sked: “What do we
have here?”“It‟s
the husband
murder case from
Puleng village,” the
other replied,
handing over a file.
The attendant took
the file and sat
down at a table on
which lay open a
large record book.
In a big, boldscrawl
he recorded the
details: Dikeledi
Mokopi. Charge:
Man-slaughter.
Sentence: Life. A
night-dutywardress
appeared and led
the prisoner away
to a side cubicle,
where she was
asked to undress.
“Have you any
money on you?”
the wardress
queried, handing
her a plain, g
reen cotton dress
whichwas the
prison uniform.
The prisoner
silently shook her
head.
“So, you have
killed your
husband, have
you?” the wardress
remarked, with a
flicker of humour.
“You‟ll
be in good
company. We have
four other women
here for the same
crime. It‟s
becoming the
fashion thesedays.
Come with me,”
and she led
the way along a
corridor, turned left
and stopped at an
iron gate which
she opened with a
key, waited for the
prisoner to walk in
ahead of her
and then locked it
with the keyagain.
They entered a
small, immensely
high-walled
courtyard. On one
side were toilets,
showers, and
acupboard. On the
other, an empty
concrete
quadrangle. The
wardress walked to
the cupboard,
unlockedit and
took out a thick roll
of clean-smelling
blankets which she
handed to the
prisoner. At the
lower end ofthe
walled courtyard
was a heavy
iron door which led
to the cell. The
wardress walked
up to this door,
banged on it loudly
and called out: “I
say, will you
women in there
,
light your candle?”
 A voice wi
thin called out: “All
right,” and they
could hear the
scratch
-scratch of a
match.
The wardressagain
inserted a key,
opened the door
and watched for a
while as the
prisoner spread
out her blankets
onthe floor. The
four women
prisoners already
confined in the cell
sat up briefly, and
stared silently at
theirnew
companion. As the
door was locked,
they all greeted her
quietly and one of
the women asked:
“Where do you
come from?”

You might also like