A scare for Charles Taylor in Calabar (A short story)

 Saturday, March  04, 2006    

              By Omari Jackson  

MABALA MA-UMBA had a job to do. He wanted it done fast and neat. The instruction concerning the assignment was direct: 'The Man in Calabar caused thousands to die, and he should also die.' Mabala Ma-umba now knew he would be hanging about after a man who had caused thousands of his countrymen to die. 

The 'he' in the instruction part referred to the exiled Liberian president, Charles Taylor, dubbed The Man In Calabar, a survivor himself and now seeking redemption as his problems continued to come on center stage. Mabala Ma-umba cared little for the former president's worries. 

The former president, since he ran away from his own death several months ago, was enjoying himself in the Nigerian state of Calabar, where he was exiled for his own safety. Mabala Ma-umba smiled and winked at the thought. "Some safety for some former president." Mabala Ma-umba's arrival was early when the aircraft touched down from his native Congo three days ago when he learned that the former president was scheduled to proceed to Abuja for a meeting with President Olusegun Obansanjo.

 Could the assignment wait? Mabala Ma-umba believed in fate and he was certain that his latest assignment, if done according to schedule, would delight many thousands and even free the former president from the occasional calls from the United Nations in New York for his capture and handing over to the tribunal sitting in Freetown, Sierra Leone. He hefted his lanky frame and from the airport, hailed a cab for the nearest hotel, The Ibbis Continental Lodge, near Solomon Unoh Lodge. 

The flight from Kinshasa was over an hour but he felt his legs heavy. At the hotel room, he took a light bath and looked at his face in the large mirror in the room. A smile swept across his face. He was not sure why he had found himself smiling. Was it because his current assignment concerned a man who had been termed a monster back in his native Congo? A man wanted by the United Nations? At the war room in Kinshasa, he had been shown the picture of the Liberian monster. He could not be sure if Charles Taylor was smiling in this particular picture, or weeping on the large screen.

 "This is the man we are after," the man he had only come to know as Sarge, said. They were about ten persons in the room. The war room was located at the southern tip of the capital, Kinshasa and until now he had known it as the headquarters of the Congo National Security. "Getting this man is not only a duty, but a responsibility. Mabala Ma-umba it's imperative that you don't fail, but should you fail, we still have men to get him." Mabala Ma-umba sat with a frown on his face. 

There were so many questions in his mind that he wanted answered but from what he had seen so far, he would keep some of his questions to himself. After all he was a soldier who was determined to, possibly; sacrifice his life for the course of justice. He was not afraid of death. He was on an assignment in Iraq following the invasion of the United States when he was called back home for this special assignment. The invitation had come through secondary sources. 

"The bodies you are seeing in this picture," Sarge broke Mabala Ma-umba's thoughts, "are those of Liberian civilians. There were a number of massacres that The Man in Calabar was personally responsible for." Mabala Ma-umba grinned, his stomach turning inside him. There were bodies of children as Master replaced the slide and enlarge the screen. So it was with such indignation and revulsion that Mabala Ma-umba left Kinshasa. Target: The Man in Calabar. "It was like Baghdad," his mind was telling him. When he was in Saddam Hussein's Iraq, he and a group of collision soldiers were on patrol in one of the Iraqi capital, Baghdad's dangerous places, Saddam City. 

He knew they would come under mortal and other arms fire the minute they arrived on duty. And ten minutes later when the Mujahedeen Warriors began operations against them, he was not surprised. Though six of the fifteen soldiers with him died, he was with feelings of nostalgia. "At the last count," he reminisced, "forty of the warriors lay dead. Twenty-five others were groaning in pain, asking some god to help them into paradise." He wondered the length of which some people would go to get into paradise.

 It was not that Mabala Ma-umba did not believe in a supreme being in the high heavens. He had always believed that there was an intelligent creator somewhere he was not sure where. But for someone to practically commit suicide, claiming it was the ticket to paradise was what he could not agree. THE SOLOMON UNOH Lodge sat at the eastern section Calabar, overlooking three highways jutting from either side of the town. The Lodge, built in the early '60s looked, from the outside, like many of the high prized buildings in central Monrovia's diplomatic quarters. 
Isolated as if by design, it was the home of past Nigerian leaders who took the time out from the hustling and bustling of Lagos life. Since the arrival of The Man in Calabar, the Lodge had taken on an important role in the city. The Liberian president was received with warm cooperation and for the last one year, he had found not only the Lodge but the city friendlier.

 The residents in the city realized that they had an important resident in Calabar since there had been an increase of security personnel from the elite Nigerian National Security prowling the area. Though they had always disguised themselves, their distinctive style of walking and interrogating people around the vicinity of the Lodge confirmed their suspicions. And though there had been some discomfort since many of the people's daily routine around the Lodge had been interrupted the residents had been able to carry out their lives. 

And so had The Man in Calabar. When The Man in Calabar arrived in the city in the first couple of months, there was a large entourage of men and women and recently there had not been ten or twenty men or women at the Lodge for one particular time. Things were changing. Mabala Ma-umba's recon had been right. Life for the Liberian president was strictly under the watchful eyes of the Nigerian security. He did not envy him one bit. Why should a man who had seen life as president allow himself to be held in what everyone in Calabar was saying was a prison? 

He had been watching the former Liberian president's goings-in and comings-out the last two days of his arrival. It was under wraps. Though he had no sympathy for the Liberian monster, he still could not agree that Charles Taylor had become so miserable that he was living practically in a cocoon. INSPECTOR-GENERAL OF POLICE, Sunday Ehindero could not bring himself to believe the report before him. It was true that the former Liberian president was a man in need of redemption. 

He had read all about what happened in Liberia. The destruction of lives and properties by the National Patriotic Front of Liberia under Charles Taylor was too clear to him. He was also aware of the murders of a number of Nigerian journalists by the man who had been given asylum in Calabar. He didn't like it but as a citizen of West Africa's powerful nation, he had convinced himself that in war many things happen. But now regarding the dossier before him, he could still not believe that there could be some people somewhere who would like the former Liberian president to die. 

But whether he believed it or not, the intel report could not be wrong. "A Congolese mercenary is here to kill Taylor," Ehindero told the gathering of security personnel charged with the responsibility to protect the former Liberian president. "The former president left this morning for a discussion with Obasanjo in Abuja and this report is saying there is an assassin right here in Calabar to kill him." Though Ehindero knew that when the former Liberian president first arrived in Nigeria, a British firm announced a huge sum of money on his head, and the United States government a two million for his capture and there were other organizations wanting the money and would stop at nothing till Taylor's head was sent to whoever wanted it. 

With life in Nigeria becoming increasingly difficult, two million United States dollars could do a lot of magic. After all Taylor was a criminal... "Does it say what organization sent the alleged mercenary?" Sgt. John Owabodo interrupted his thoughts, wanting to know. "While it may be difficult to know what all this means, we cannot overlook this report." Owabodo's face registered deep worry. He knew there were evil men who would continue till they were victorious. 

Initially, he didn't want to believe it since he knew that in Nigeria rumors grew like weeds. But at the same time, he believed in the Nigerian intel community and therefore was prepared to work around the clock to prevent any violence against the former Liberian president. Owabodo had recently graduated from the Nigeria Academy of Military Sciences. A father of three, the youngest being at age two, he had sometimes advised himself to quit the service. But why not? Look at the number of Nigerian soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the search for peace in Liberia? At the same time, he could not think of any job that was prestigious as the army. One of his favorite leaders in the history of Nigeria was the late Gen. Sani Abacha. 

It was Abacha who organized Nigerians to lead the vanguard for peace in Liberia. It was an achievement, he knew, and that history would never forget Nigeria. That was why he had remained in the army. Then he heard his commander was still speaking. "President Obasanjo has been briefed on the latest development," Ehindero told the men. "And he has therefore instructed that any suspicious character or anyone seen or heard asking questions about the former president should be apprehended at once." The Nigerians would not want to be caught napping.

 If there was a suspicious character in town, then it was possible that the character would be having temporary lodgings at the nearest hotel, The Ibbis Continental Lodge. So Ehindero directed two of his men to visit the Ibbis Continental Lodge. MABALA MA-UMBA was a soldier's soldier. Surviving in the desserts of Iraq was a feat that many men dreamed about but only the elite achieved. The long years of training in hostile zones of the world had conditioned him to become aware of his surroundings. And it was no strange to him that several hours after the former Liberian president Charles Taylor returned from Abuja, two men approached him as he sat at the lounge at the Ibiss Continental Lodge. 

From last night, he had a premonition that the assignment had to wait. He was treating himself to a cup of tea when he saw the men coming. In one of his recon around the former president's residence, he almost came face to face with the men approaching him. He knew from the mental pictures he screened back in Kinshasa that for whatever the reason was, the former president was guarded by some of Nigeria's best security men. Well, that in itself was nothing to worry about. After all, soldiers were soldiers. He had seen trouble before. The two men were about two feet away, and though disguised in the traditional Nigeria gowns, he remembered them from their last encounter. 

He took notice of the bulging weapon concealed on either side of the men. "It looks like Saddam City," was his thought. Back then in Iraq, every Iraqi approaching you should send the alarm bells running in your head. Life in that land was like a horror movie. Comparing the current situation with the experience in Baghdad, Nigeria or better still Calabar was paradise, despite the occasional flares of violence by their brothers in the north of the country. 

He was aware of the current demonstration and its resultant violence on cartoons published in Europe that none of the Nigerians in the north had ever seen. "Hey Oga, why now?" Sgt. Owabodo began the conversation, attempting to lure the stranger into dialogue. He was a trained infantry man. He would be delicate and clever. He would draw him out and at the last moment give him the coup de grace. He watched the stranger with eyes that showed concern and distrust. 

"Hey Oga, nothing much now," the stranger's voice showed traces of French. "Eh mon ami, have we met?" Owabodo could not be more than sure that they were looking at their man. The intel report said a Congolese, and here was a man, who was crowing their conversation with an expression in French. "We've been told that you have been asking questions about someone," the other soldier, lean, with a face as if he had been fasting, said. His voice did not indicate he appreciated the stranger's presence at the Lodge. "What do you really want to know, Oga?" 

The stranger grimaced at the question but recovered immediately. Since the officers had come to him, it was better he threw them off guard. "Yes, I am looking for a 300 level female accounting students of the University of Calabar, who resides here," he said. He took a stick of cigarette from his breast pocket, lit it, and took a deep pull. He stretched his right hand, indicating the two chairs and offering them to the visitors.

 "You must come with us," Owabodo directed, ready to move on. The stranger stood up and joined the two men. Though the stranger knew that his visitors had no evidence against him, he did not want to give them the reason to suspect that he was there for a mission. With his years of training, the two men would be no match in hand to hand combat. But he was in a foreign land. The news, he was aware, would send the message to the former Liberian president to watch his back.

 Note: The author who resides in Atlanta, GA USA, developed this story from Nigerian newspaper, The PUNCH, of  Monday, February 27, 2006 story which is reproduced below. Please note that the above story took place in the mind of the author and did not really happen. 

The true story is what is produced below: Taylor: Police arrest intruder The police have arrested a Congo Democratic Republic national, Mr. Mabala Ma-umba, inside the residence of former Liberian President, Mr. Charles Taylor, in Calabar. Police sources told our correspondent on Sunday that undercover police operatives attached to Taylor's guard unit arrested Ma-umba on February 12, following a tip-off. President Olusegun Obasanjo granted Taylor political asylum in 2004 to usher in peace in Liberia, which had been devastated by a long-drawn civil war.

 Ma-umba, it was learnt, arrived the Solomon Unoh Lodge home of Taylor and demanded to know his (Taylor's) whereabouts. Not satisfied with Ma-umba's conduct and the purpose of his visit, Taylor's personal staff immediately alerted the police, which moved in and arrested him. 

On interrogation, the Congolese claimed that he wanted to see a 300 level female Accounting student of the University of Calabar, who resides there. The whereabouts of Taylor at the time Ma-umba visited could not be ascertained. But a source confirmed that he was rattled by the news of the Congolese's visit. To forestall a recurrence, security has been beefed up at his residence while Ma-umba has been transferred to the Force Headquarters, Abuja, for further investigation. The Inspector-General of Police, Mr. Sunday Ehindero, has since reported the matter to Obasanjo. The PUNCH, Monday, February 27, 2006