The King of the Slums: A Crime of Poverty (Part Two)--- Novella

in #fiction7 years ago

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8 months ago:

Talia placed a cup of water cautiously on a small stool before their visitor. The stool had been in need of repair since last week but her husband, Tamiko had not yet found the time to fix it.

He was always away from home doing jobs for other people and often came home too tired. She had reminded him about the repairs he had to do around the house this morning and he had been about to do that when their visitor came.


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Their visitor was Tari, president of the slum dwellers. In the time they had lived in this place, they had formed an association that comprised residents. It had been a good step as it helped them co-operatively do the little they could do for their hood. The youth often took the lead in doing work that needed to be done.

Tari; a very dark-complexioned man that looked to be in his mid thirties was here on a mission.

He had come to tell Tamiko about the visitors he had received in his home yesterday; a lanky middle-aged man accompanied by a burly one. The burly one had struck him as one who was assigned to protect the lanky one. "From what harm?" he had wondered. They had brought bad news with them; a letter from a corporation said to have bought their neighbourhood from the government to build a park. They had been given one month to vacate their houses.

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Tari had been dumbfounded. Not that he had had a chance to question the men because like ravens, they had simply dropped off the letter and without waiting for his reply or reaction, had left him standing at his doorstep. Their action had been a message in itself; the residents obviously had no say in the matter.

It was for this reason he had come early to Tamiko’s house. He did not know how to break the news to members of their small community. Where would they go? Most of them could hardly afford living in the slums of Makwaita. He wondered what had driven the corporation into choosing this area for their park. Rich people did not come to this side of the city, who then would the park be for? Tari had a lot of questions running through his head. He had not had much sleep last night; tossing and turning on his lean bed till morning came.

He needed Tamiko’s view on this. Tamiko had the people’s love, respect and admiration. Even he, Tari as president did not come close. If someone should break it to them, it had to be Tamiko. Tamiko would know how to handle this.


Tamiko was disappointed Tari was even considering obeying the dictates of the corporation. Why had they not been informed before the deal went through? What did the government expect them to do and in just one month at that. They were not leaving. This was not the right way to do things. There were no talks of compensation, not that their houses were worth much but it was their home after all. They deserved better.

This was what Tamiko related to the people later that evening. They had called for an emergency meeting and the slum dwellers had assembled in front of Tamiko’s house.

Tari had told them of the visit and Tamiko had responded to their quick and troubled questions; what should they do? They had decided at the meeting to send delegates to the office of the government to make a complaint. Another team would go to the corporation office to tender their refusal to abide by their dictates. Tari led the government office delegates while Tamiko led those that visited the corporation.

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Both teams had a common report on their return. They had not been given audience even after waiting hours. They were on their own. When Tamiko had insisted to the receptionist, they had been told the corporation would send delegates to talk to them at their own time. Tamiko had not believed one word of that.

The corporation did send delegates after three weeks but not to reason with the dwellers or listen to them. Their message was simple; leave or we will make you leave.

Tamiko had stood up to them this time. The dwellers had soon gained courage from him and together, they had sent the delegates away. Still, the tension remained. The dwellers feared what would become of them since it seemed they were bent on relieving them of their homes.

They had waited in fear until the one month grace given had elapsed. The corporation had not come to demolish their homes as promised. A little flame of hope was kindled but that did not diminish their fears. The government had remained silent on the issue.


Tamiko and Tari were invited by the corporation three weeks later.

As the leaders of the slum dwellers, the corporation, through their representative Mr Kenzie, was offering them a huge sum of money to convince their people to come to terms with the dictates of the letter. They would also throw what was to Tamiko, a paltry sum for only ten selected families. Mr Kenzie advised them to take the offer as it would get no better than that.

Their offer only served to infuriate Tamiko and Tari further. Were these people completely clueless about how hard it would be for these very poor families to leave the lives they had managed to build for themselves in Makwaita slum? Where would they go? Where would they set up home? What criteria did they plan to use in selecting the ‘worthy’ ten families? Were they not all going to feel the brunt of suffering if they were forced to leave their homes?

Mr Kenzie could not give the two men answers to these questions posed to him; at least none of his babbling satisfied them. They had left the corporation with the issue still largely unresolved. They did not know what they would do but they would put up a fight to defend what was theirs.

The corporation had left them alone afterwards. The slum dwellers knew it was not over. They had not won yet.


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On the 14th of April, Tamiko had been on his way home from the good-part-of-town where he had been invited to do some hauling work when he saw a man lying face-down on the side of the road. It was a lonely path most people feared to walk this late at night. There had been stories of robberies that took place there. The man may have fallen victim to them or being hit by a vehicle and abandoned.

As he drew closer, the man made a sound that showed he was still alive.

Tamiko reached him and knelt to inspect him. The man had been shot and had blood oozing from a wound in his chest. Tamiko tried to get a response from the man but got none. He had slid into unconsciousness. From the little he had learnt when he lived on the streets, Tamiko knew that was not good.


He tried to hail a few vehicles that sped past but none stopped. A motorcyclist spared him a glance, shook his head at the obvious situation and sped past. Tamiko felt lost as to what to do. He needed to help this man. He could not leave him to die. He did not blame the drivers that had refused to help him. It was already a dangerous area to be at night without adding the scene that looked quite suspicious. They were no doubt trying to avoid getting into trouble or even worse, falling prey to a staged scene orchestrated to leave them vulnerable to getting robbed.

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Tamiko hailed another vehicle; a yellow cab passing by and by some stroke of luck, it stopped after assessing the scene like others had done. The driver helped Tamiko lift the wounded man into his vehicle and they drove off to the nearest hospital.


On their way, Tamiko wondered if the man would make it. He prayed that the man would. At that thought, he recalled that most hospitals refuse to treat patients until money deposits were made. He had no money on him, even if he did; Tamiko doubted it would amount to what the hospital would request for.

It was almost midnight. What would Talia think had become of him? Worse, he did not have a phone with which to reach her. His phone had spoilt two months before and he had not been able to afford another one, hence he had begun sharing Talia’s phone. It was at urgent times like this he missed having a phone so bad. Perhaps he would be able to reach her from the hospital.


On arriving the hospital, Tamiko was surprised that the doctor had not asked for a deposit before rushing the wounded man in for treatment. He was going to see to the wounded man right away. He however asked that Tamiko remain seated as they needed to file a report with the police since the patient had been shot. They would also give him updates on the patient’s condition. After thanking the driver who had stopped to help, Tamiko called Talia from the hospital using the receptionist’s phone. He briefed her on the situation and assured her he would see her later in the day.

Tamiko lied although not intentionally.


Tamiko had dozed off sometime in the early hours of the morning and awoke to find two police officers staring into his face. The doctor stood by them shaking his head with his hands folded. The wounded man had died. The policemen told Tamiko he had to come with them to the station to be interrogated. Tamiko obliged.

He had however not been taken to the station, rather they had taken him straight to Kumanta prison where he had remained until today; six months later.

Talia must have gone to the hospital to enquire about his whereabouts when she did not see him as promised. A prison warder had told him his wife had come to see him but since he was not allowed visitors, they had turned her away.

Today asides being the first time he would step his feet outside the walls of Kumanta prison in six months, was also the day he would see his daughter, Ralia and wife since he had left for work on the morning of April 14th. He at least hoped they had been able to come as he had pleaded with his lawyer to ensure.

Right now, it was time to test the waters of his fate.

Led by policemen, a hand-cuffed Tamiko went into the court room.



Images were obtained from Pixabay


Original fiction written by @royalrose


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"The King of the Slums: A Crime of Poverty (Part Three--- Novella" following soon.

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You write beautifully. I totally enjoyed this.

This is awesome. I can't wait to see what happens next. The Trials of Tamiko began outside the courtroom. Well done.

Thank you dear

Now it getting more interesting... Nice work @royalrose

Thank you dear