Malawi 2004 - 2007 |
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The Innkeepers Tale
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Saturday is eagerly awaited by children on the dirt road to Pwetakali who chant "azungo, azungo" as I wheeze my way through the bus-blown clouds of dust on my weekend run. As I approached the half way mark a white pick-up stopped and a man hailed me from up the road. It was Henly, the Paddington Jamaican from Cinderellas Night Club in Area 25. Now those of you who read my article about Cinderellas and managed to get more than half way through it will remember that Henly had just got out of jail accused of the murder of his live-in lover. Well, Henly stopped his pick-up to tell me the full unexpurgated story of his loves, life and the horror of Maula Jail, which I have serialised here. It is not quite true that he stopped for that reason but that is what eventually unfolded. It all started when Henly took up with a Malawian woman with a taste for the good life. All went well at first, but as time went by Henly suspected that she was two or three or four or more-timing him. His suspicions led him to a local bar where sure enough he found her with another man - a policeman. There was an altercation and he requested that she vacate his premises forthwith. Some days later he returned to find that she had let herself into the flat and, with a cunningly concealed duplicate key, opened the safe. Henly was livid. He went to the police to report her and she was eventually arrested and charged. Her family were distraught. They persuaded him to drop the charges and he settled down to life on his own, save the bar girls who owed him favours. Life returned to normal and wounds began to heal. One night Henly went to bed. He awoke to find the sheet moving eerily from his body. He focussed to see his drunk ex-partner outside his window trying to pull the sheet through the window. What happened next was not clear. What was clear was that when Henly emerged from the flat and the woman was found laying in a pool of blood. She died and her policeman boyfriend quickly had Henly behind bars. Listening to Henly and his quick-fire, almost stuttering delivery it was impossible not to feel his injury. He was so hurt. It was not fair, there must have been a miscarriage of justice. How could he have reacted any differently? Henly had a bad lawyer. He was stitched up and found himself in Maula prison. Meanwhile the police stole most of his drink stock and belongings on some flimsy charge of not paying duty. He was now in the most dismal surroundings with no friends and no protection. Life in prison was not pleasant. To sleep in a cell men had to sleep head to toe, packed like sardines on the bare floor. He had to hire a minder and quickly found that anything that could be stolen was. His shoes were soon lost. He had a poor diet and rotted for eight months in jail. Eventually he found a good lawyer, who later became the Director of Public Prosecutions. This lawyer got him out of prison and he still awaits a conclusion to his prosecution. The dead woman's family are still his friends and sympathise with his plight but cannot publicly support him.
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