11 INSIDE LIFE II

I was already awake when the door to my cell screeched open at 5:45 AM. My eyes felt like they had sand under the lids, no matter how much I rubbed them. The zipper of the jumpsuit was cutting into my skin, and I was starving.

"Mugu." An officer called to my attention, slinging a tray into the cell.

I looked from the unappetizing lumps on the plate to the catwalk. The man with the black eyes was staring at me from the other cell. The man stalked away and disappeared behind a shower curtain.

I ate, brushed my teeth with the toothbrush I'd gotten in the booking room the night before, and picked up the disposable razor an officer had put in my cell. Unsure of myself, I walked out of the cell and down the catwalk to the shower stall and sink.

I shaved while I waited for the other man to finish showering, squinting into a mirror that offered as clear as reflection as tinfoil. When the other man stepped out, I nodded and went inside.

I drew closed the curtain but just past the edge I could see the black - eyed man soaping his face in front of the sink, towel slung around his waist while he shaved around his goatee.

I undressed and hung my clothes over the curtain rod. Then I turned on the water and lathered myself with the soap, closing my eyes and trying to make believe I'd just swum an in - fucking - credible four - hundred - metre butterfly, and was getting ready to go home after the meet.

"Showering uh."

I blinked water out of my eyes. "Excuse me?" I said.

Through the crack between the shower curtain and the wall, I saw the man leaning against the sink. "You don't seem to know anything about prison."

"I shouldn't be here."

The man laughed. "Says you, Mr Blogger."

I turned away and soaped up my chest. Shaking water out of my hair, I turned off the shower faucet. "What did you do?."

"Cut off my old lady's head." The man said disappointment.

Suddenly I felt my knees give out. I did not think I could stay upright, so I leaned against the plastic wall of the shower. I blindly wrapped my towel around my waist, grabbed my clothes, and stumbled back to my cell, where I sat down on the bunk and tucked my head between my knees so I wouldn't throw up.

The officer walked to my cell to retrieve the razor he had given. "Your friends just came now."

I stood up.

"Hey blogger, don't be in a rush."

"You said my friends are here, I need to go see them."

"I guess you don't know how things work."

"Wetin you mean Kwanu."

"I chased them away because President Buhari said you are not allowed to see visitors, send any letters or do somethings like other prisoners as you serve your life imprisonment sentence."

"Life imprisonment? Is it the way the legal system work." I exploded.

"Don't raise your voice at me," He pointed his hand at me. "The next time you do it, I'll make your life here a living hell."

"Sorry, I understand fully well, its Buhari's order."

He nodded. "Mr Blogger." He said and left the room. Two inmates came to the door.

My cell was painted a strange shade of gray that sucked up all the light. The bottom bunk had a pillow and plastic mattress, and the blanket I'd been given. Beside it was a toilet and sink. My cell was sandwiched between two others, like a tight row of teeth. When the barred doors of the cell were open - most of the day, except for mealtimes - I could stand on the narrow walk that ran the length of the pod. At one end was a shower but there's no phone stand where I could make collect calls, i guess there should be in minimum security. At the other end was a television, strategically placed on the free side of the bars.

"Hey," One said. "We've seen you on TV, the blogger guy."

"That's good to know." I said.

"My name is Paul Sam. And that's Idris David." The unfamiliar man with a long Bob Marley hair nodded at me.

Idris scratched his back against the bars. He was wearing boxer shorts and a T - shirt, with rubber thongs. He slipped up his shirt as I glanced down to see a knife inside his shirt.

"Well let's see if you can survive Inside life." He said, whirling a chain he was now holding.

They both laughed.

Idris whipped his double - up chain at my head. Instead of slashing my face, the chain wrapped around my shoulders. Instinctively, I shot my hand out and gripped the chain and jerked with all my might. The force snatched Idris off his hog and hurled us together in a violent impact. His head struck mine and stunned me, but not enough to stop me from smashing my fist into his face. His body hit the ground, blood spurted from his nose.

Paul had the knife around my neck, choking me, my blotched face even more distorted by the veins popping from my temple. The blade was pressed against my throat.

"We would make a good pair. Paul said slipping the knife inside his shirt and offered a handshake which I shook from them both.

"Let me show you around." He said as we began walking down the hall. "This is an isolation cell," He pointed. "Where killers are kept."

"So here na horror." I asked.

"You never see anything." Idris said wiping off blood from his nose.

We entered into the exercise room.

"This is our exercise room." Paul said.

The exercise room was small and sparsely furnished, with only a handful of equipment. But it filled like everything else in prison, by prearrangement. There was no waiting and no fight as two large Hausa men claimed the stationary bicycles, as Paul and Idris picked up the table tennis paddles, as a tall guy with a Davido face tattoo on his cheek began to bench press.

I excused myself as I walked out to the exercise courtyard, a muddy square heavily ringed with barbed wire. Men were talking in small groups, gesturing with their hands. Others moved aimlessly, counterclockwise. I found someone leaning against the chain - link fence.

"Do you know the most feared animal at the isolation room will be out today." He said without preamble.

The other man shrugged. "Cold blooded beast."

I looked over the barbed wire, and wondered who the man in the isolation room is that is being given honor.

I headed back to my cell and curled up on my bunk. My cell lack a cellmate and I thought of having someone thrown into my bunk.

Shortly, my thoughts pulled close around me, when an officer brought a man in. He was wearing a jumpsuit and sneakers, like everyone else, but there was something different about him. Something removed and standoffish. He nodded at me and climbed into his top bunk.

Paul came to the cell door. "Your face don dey tire me."

"Get lost, Paul." The man sighed, without turning over.

"Guy no dey tell me to get lost, you..."

"Hey!" An officer called his attention.

As Paul left to get into his cell for lockdown, the man unfolded himself from the bunk and came down to accept his tray. Me, on the bottom bunk, realized there was nowhere for the other guy to sit. If he crawled back into the top bunk, he'd have to eat lying down.

"Senior man, you can sit here." I said, glancing at the far end of the bunk.

"Thanks." The man uncovered his tray. An unappetizing tricolored lump sat in the centre. "My name is Williams Charles."

"Micheal Samuel."

Williams nodded and began to eat.

"Hey, Samuel!" Paul called from his own cell. "You better sleep with your eyes open tonight. Nobody is safe around him, his the most feared."

His eyes gaze upon me as he gritted his teeth.