MIGRATION ISSUES - FROM HEAVEN TO EARTH (FLASH FICTION)

INTRODUCTION: From Heaven to Earth is written in fiction in order to paint the picture of how we transformed from our Celestial forms into people separated by borders, colour and language, and how those at a disadvantage sought to re-unite with their former ‘friends’ in order to seek for a peaceful and prosperous abode, away from the horrors of hunger, diseases and war. However, on earth, there is a stumbling block. There’s suspicion in the air, as their fellow brothers and sisters from heaven (as they think), seem not to have a clue as to whether they’ve once shared the same celestial space. Migration hence, has become a movement from frying pan to fire.

FROM HEAVEN TO EARTH

Thunders raging, lightning engulfing, musical displays and celestial orchestra, the atmosphere was charged and frenzy. We stood in the presence of Olodumare (the Almighty) in Paradise and knelt down to open the covered golden cup, wherein is kept our destiny on earth. Just like a lucky dip, fastest finger first, we were to open our destiny. My four friends opened theirs. First it was Leo, he untied the silky red ribbon and oops! His destination was Germany. Then came an Angel whose smiles revealed her shining golden teeth. She came forward and opened the curtains of heaven as if though we were in the Cinemas. We beheld the lightings and Bridges in Berlin and were amazed that men had come of age. We were happy for Leo. I hugged him, we laughed while holding our hands and then I whispered to him “we will soon be neighbours on earth”. He nodded in agreement as we both loved each other. Gustape, another of my colleague in that section of paradise had just chosen Italy as he smiled and waved his ribbon of destiny. Next was Fabregas who had picked Spain and then Klint, whose destination was Britain. Basking in the Euphoria of picking the best places on earth, a voice echoed and it was time to watch the highlights of the of their various destinations on earth. The embroidered giant blue cotton with golden strings on the edges opened and we watched Berlin, the beautiful Berlin from the Sky. Leo will be going to Berlin and at this time, I was yet to open mine.

I was the last to open the ribbon of destiny and I was simply carried away by the spectacular scenes from Britain, Spain, and France. I was more than confident that I will not be far away from my friends when we get to earth. I moved near the golden cup and there was silence in heaven. There was a palpable fear and tension within me, my eyes were red and my knees were bending. What if I chose an entirely different continent? I had never watched the highlights from Africa, South America, Asia but there was an Angel who often relayed the news from earth to all heavenly beings. He had told us that there are ‘boiling points’ on earth (our newscaster for Heavenly News Network-HNN). I opened reluctantly and took a deep breath. My destiny is in my hands but how I wished olodumare who is omnipotent picked for me. I took solace in the fact that my friends had chosen wonderful places on earth. They call it EUROPE – EXPERIENCE UNPARALLEL REST, OPPORTUNITIES PROSPERITY EVERYWHERE.

       While I tried to open, the diamond silk ribbon fell. It was a bad omen by heavenly standard. I shrugged off the knowledge of heavenly held beliefs and picked my destiny again, this time I held it firmly and lo and behold, I had chosen Africa, Northern Nigeria to be precise. I will be going to Chibok, that’s where my parents will be meeting that night and their erotic animalistic display will bid me come. Chibok here I come. The curtains were opened and I zoomed in from heaven the whole of Northern Nigeria as olodumare moved the ‘cursor’. I saw burnt houses and trees whose flowers had become grey, I saw flames propelled by something which looked like stones (I later knew they were bullets, of course, there were no bullets in heaven, and how was I to know?). Schools were locked, some streets were deserted. I saw young children whose flesh were covered with bones and I saw birds devouring the carcasses of humans. Pregnant women wailing, they travail under the scorching sun without Doctors. The dark nights was as thick as foam. Perhaps, that’s just the physical aspect of the rot in Borno, more frightening views were to come. At this point, my eyes were bulging, moving back and forth and almost dropped into my hands. My head was swelling and my friends felt sorry for me but they were not so nice as to swap destinies. I could see Gustape folding and squeezing his to keep in his pants. I believe he was getting suspicious that someone might steal his destiny from him. How could olodumare put this in the golden cup? How could I have chosen this? Why Me? Why do I have to be born into such a miserable condition? I asked myself as I fumed in holy annoyance. Then an Angel whose hair were made of diamond spoke gently to me in a still but crystal feminine voice, “someone had to go, the land had to be occupied and it could be anyone”.

      I had to briefly comfort myself, for in heaven we don’t cry. I went back to my friends and we shook hands. I pulled up a machismo confidence with a face-saving smile and told them, “I’ll relocate as soon as possible, as soon as I got the means to come over to meet with Leo in Germany and Klint in Britain. In heaven, I had not learnt any survival techniques for there was no war. I must learn to swim on earth so I could cross the Mediteranean, I must learn to run like a Cheetah and fly like an Eagle. I must possess the strength of a Bison and the stamina of a Lion. Oh, if I knew that earth was a place of war I would have been fully prepared to fight. I could have beckoned on Xhaka Zulu to teach me the art of war or ask Sango to reinforce my bowels with fire. My loins were not girded, I never had a breastplate, I was barefooted, no shield to quench earth’s fiery dirt, and no helmet for protection. Anyway, we had agreed to hook up on earth at least, in heaven we all believed that earth was meant for everyone, so nothing is going to stop us from meeting again.

        I was informed by reliable sources close to olodumare that there is mobility on earth. I was told someone could cross the Atlantic through a ship, move to Australia by flying on Airbus or boeing. I was aware of trans-border movement by cars. However, I was not aware that there were embassies and consulates, I was oblivious of the fact that there was going to be Visa requirements and that I would have to stand in front of a stern-looking machismo embassy official who would decide my fate. If I was ever going to meet with my friends across the borders, he was going to decide.

      In some other sections of heaven as I got to know, some folks had chosen Afghanistan, Syria, South Sudan, Somalia etc as their destinations on earth. So with relief, I said to myself, “I’m not alone”. My thinking was premised on the fact that we could all journey together on earth to our friends in Europe.

I arrived the earth and my entry wasn’t rosy as expected. My Mother was a 13 year old teenager who had been forced into marriage with a 65 year old ‘daddy’s daddy’. With sixteen wives, my position would be number 45 – A village was going to emerge from the family. I came at a period of bloodshed, hunger and starvation. People were already fleeing and only a few had stayed behind, probably thinking they would cheat death. My Mother was one of such. Although I still wonder how my 65 year old Father managed to get me in her womb even at a time of desolation. Hmmmn! Perhaps, hormones doesn’t respect wars, I think.

When I cried on the day of delivery, the midwives thought it was normal. One of them echoed; “that’s how to know when a baby is alive”. They are not aware that I cried because I knew what was on ground for me. I had seen the highlights from heaven, a visual imprint of my destination made me cry. Oh! how I wished I could just grow up and develop wings to fly to meet with my friends who by now I guess would have been born in Britain, Germany, Spain and Italy. I knew they would accept me. What if they don’t? What if they failed to remember we made a deal in heaven not to close their borders? No, never, it can never happen. No one in his/her right mind would want a fellow human starve to death, not to talk of the fact that these are individuals whom we had fellowship in heaven.

      Within a few seconds of my journey to earth, I was welcomed with a blast, Gbam! Then followed by sporadic gunshots. The mid-wives scampered for safety, the ground quaked, the roofs vibrated and everyone’s heart was in his mouth. Even the fresh crying baby suddenly kept quiet. Babies know when its war time, terrified I was, but cannot return to heaven willingly. This is the way I chose to be, I must stay to fight, fight to survive, and to survive I had to be fit.

      Nineteen years had passed without the hope of a brighter tomorrow. Yesterday was dark, now its bleak, tomorrow is hazy. I wandered around the street, begging for arms from the lucky ones who had found their way into politics and had syphoned public funds. They were giving us what they stole from us and we still had to praise them. I had no choice to shamefully betray my protesting heart by collecting my own share of left-overs from their table, or else I die or become so lean that my teeth would become the only visible symbol of recognition; “have you seen him, I mean the man with the protruding set of teeth?” Another option though was to join terror groups, but I chose not to.

      I always remember my friends in heaven as I relish the peace I experienced. Rumors has it that the land they now stay flow with milk and honey as if mine was flowing with shea-butter and palm oil. It was indeed flowing with blood. Men had created barriers to walk freely across the earth. Just down south beyond the River Niger, people were hurriedly running to Lagos to book flights to visit their own version of Leo, Fabregass, Gustape and Klint. I wondered why they had to pay when I was already to set to make a journey to re-write my destiny by simply crossing the borders.

      In heaven we were all the same colour, but I realized that across the Mediteranean where my friends lived, they are Whites with pointed nose. I am Black with thick lips and flat nose. White or Black, none resembled the Angels in heaven, for Angels are neither White nor Black. I held a strong belief that Europe needs me, but I doubted if my Friends would recognize me. I”ll ask anyone I meet in Germany, “please, can you help me find Leo?” I knew he was going to be the only Leo in the whole of Germany. Then what would be his surname? Heavenly Leo or Leo from heaven? I smiled at my own folly.

      Now the time has come for me to move and move fast. I had to take a risk, a worthy risk. I sought to change my destiny by changing my destination. The journey to Europe by foot from Maiduguri would take two months. The scorching sun along the desert on the way to Lybia had reached a frightening dimension. The sun was simply not smiling. I wasn’t alone, we moved like herds of cattle without a shepherd. The young, the old, men and women, Muslims and Christians, Atheists and traditionalists. Those things doesn’t matter. We were black and hungry and had longed for a land where we could just walk into bliss as it was in heaven. Diallo was with us as we staggered along the whistling heat wave, tall and dark, he was from Senegal. He had two wives and 5 children who were also part of us. They had made it to Chad after spending three months. He had narrated his ordeal with Lions and how he had drank from his urine and poured some in his hands to give to his dying children. They had exhausted what they had and we had barely made one-third of the journey.

      Two hundred adult embarked on the journey and about 90 children. Two of Diallo’s children died before we reached Tripoli. We wept with him as he buried his children. It was a dark moment in our journey, but we had to move on. It was the price we had to pay no matter what it was going to cost.

Koffi and Appiah told me that their goals was to become professional footballers in Europe. They were twins from Ghana and were married. Miraculously their wives both gave birth to twins and the fear of being tagged an irresponsible, good-for-nothing Fathers made them run away to seek for better opportunities. Dark and muscular, I think they should be in their early 30s but they’ll have to claim they are under 20 in order to stand a chance of getting a club. Jibril and Samaila were going to work and further their education, but they also had other plans too. They were going to stay and get married to one white girl so as to become a citizen. What kind of love is this? I wondered. What is even my business? My burden is still sufficient for me to carry. They were going to change their names to John and Craig to get engaged to any white girl who may be afraid to marry a Muslim; Islamophobia is not an illusion, it is real. What would I be doing when I finally get to meet with my friends? I had never thought of this, but it dawned on me that my friends over the border were not in wonderland. My discussion with the Ghanian twins made me reason to rethink my motive, lest I get to Europe and open my mouth wide open to be filled with breeze; it won’t be funny at all.

      Will I become a burden on my Friends? Will they accept and be willing to contain my indolence? I had no skills, neither do I possess any educational qualifications. I had not been able to fully master English, Spanish or Italian. I understand at least what it means to say “Yes”, “No”, “Very well”, “go”, “come” and “I’m not a Terrorist”. It was a sentence I learned just in case we had to defend ourselves that we had not come from Africa to bomb the Buckingham Palace. To a young man brought up in Northern Nigeria and was only able to attend Quranic School, haven’t I tried enough to utter such big English words? I should praise myself even if no one will praise me. We spoke the same language in heaven and it sounded like Swahili.

      Two months had passed, we were about to cross the Mediterranean. It was dark and the temperature had reached a freezing point. I took solace though in the fact that I’ll soon meet with Leo, very soon. Tears flowed down my chicks as the Nile found its way to Egypt. I wasn’t sure if it was out of anxiety or the psychological effect of my agonies on transit or the joy of meeting my heavenly Friends. I had seen it all; fear, tremblings, bloodshed, hunger, the subsuming voices of blood-thirsty individuals, the deceit of politicians and utter desolations. Survival is not negotiable, it must be found even if the cost is death. Yes! That was my resolve.

      I thought I had Friends in the land of possibilities, I was wrong all the way. Heaven is not earth, my eyes are now opened to the realities of the human race and the struggle for a better life. My arrival in Berlin came with a bitter experience. On the street I stayed with some of my comrade. My jacket was my companion, snows hitting us hard as if it was made of wood. This was the moment I wished I were held by the gentle hands of a woman, but they came in my dreams pestering me. The kind of dream that makes you more miserable when you see the light of the day. I woke up in the middle of the night, teeth gnashing producing sounds like drumming sticks, head swelling with rhythmic vibrating body to go along with. It was 3 a.m. and it was my very first night in Europe. A few of us made it to an uncompleted building near the rail line with thick walls which served as a shield. We had escaped the Guards at the borders. Despite the agony, I was simply re-writing my destiny and that was enough for me.

       Stephen, a fellow Nigerian had made the street his home, he didn’t pass through the difficult path like I did. However, he had been on the run for over 2 years since boarding a plane from Lagos to Germany. He was already used to that kind of life – suffering and smiling. He, like many other Africans had thought he could just sneak into Germany like a rodent that enters a house, he seeks no permission and neither does it salute. It is never responsible for the upkeep of the house neither does it pay the bills. To Stephen, going back home was never an option. His persistent stay in Germany will not only be a source of inspiration to many, it will also be a source of honour for the family (“ger-ma-ni”) – from Germany, as they are referred to.

      He spread his legs on the black blanket spread on the red concrete and laid his head beside the wall which was a shield to the blistering snow. The hot Pizza in his mouth overwhelmed his plight as he chewed vigorously as if he was crushing a brick. He was receiving calls from home while I watched him with amusement as if he was my Mentor, my Mentor in crime. He placed his phone on loudspeaker and the following conversation ensued;

      Stephen:                “Hello”

      Caller:                    “Halooo ooo”

      Stephen:                “Who am I speaking with please?”

      Caller:                    “Ha! Steeeeephen, you can’t even discern my voice again?”

      Stephen:                “I’m very sorry ma. I can’t, please kindly introduce yourself”    (shivering and angered that he had to pause his beloved Pizza)

      Caller:                    “This is one of your Mothers….Mama Pamela Akinmodede. I know that name must ring a bell, does it?”

      Stephen:                “No. I can’t actually remember.”

      Caller:                    “I am your Mother’s sister’s uncle’s cousin. You see how close we are?”

      Stephen:                “Hmmmn!”

      Caller:                    “I was actually among those who washed your sticky, pussy napkins when you were a Toddler. You were such a handsome boy and I was glad I did my own part in raising you.”

      Stephen:       “I see, Interesting.”

      Caller:                    “I got your contact details from your younger sister when we met at an occasion on the Island, so I promised her I was going to give you a call.”

      Stephen:                “Thanks ma.” (trying to put down the phone as if signaling to the caller that he was done, unfortunately for him, the caller was still graciously on and he answered reluctantly as if he was on slow replay button).

      Caller:                    “Stephen my Son, I want to ask you to do me a favour, please we need your help. At present, the economy is so bad that even Mosquitoes have started mourning for the lack of blood to draw from humans. Your younger ones, (referring to her children; everyone is your brother or sister when you are overseas) Faderera in particular is in her final year in the University and she needs money to complete her project. In fact, to say the truth, we don’t have anything to eat tonight and my husband is facing serious health challenges. To make matters worse, we are currently being owed 5 months salary arrears. That’s not all but let me not demand too much from you.” She cried bitterly on phone as Stephen comforted her with the promise that he would send her money.

      Poor Stephen, miserable me. He was a graduate of Law from the University of Lagos. His Mother had acquired loan from the bank and local cooperatives to send him to Germany as if to say, “my Son, bring back the money”. To her, her Son abroad will be a thing of dignity and respect which will definitely make Witches and Wizards succumb. She could now walk around the neighborhood with shoulders high and whenever she’s asked, “hope you’re hearing from your Son”? She would answer with a smile on her face and say “you mean Stephen in Germany”? As if she has more than one Stephen in Europe at the same time. A day after Stephen arrived in Germany, she had gone to a local church to give testimony to the goodness of the Lord and the whole church came out dancing and singing o se o Jesu (thank you Jesus).

      Stephen had run from economic hardship, unemployment and hunger triggered by poor leadership and corruption. I had run from the battlefield of Maiduguri and a large number had made their way to Germany from war ravaged Syria and Afghanistan. Europe had become a melting pot where the Wretched of the earth are either comforted, or lifted from the woes that chased them or a continent where the hitherto Wretched ones vanish with their hopes. Everyone is in a state of “OYO” (On Your Own).

      Elections were fast approaching and our issue was the main area of discourse among German politicians. Some candidates particularly on the right had promised to build a wall across the border and repatriate illegal immigrants, who according to them, were sucking dry their already battered economy. We were to them like Parasites. They would gladly accommodate those who has something to offer their society and help maintain their status as a global force economically through technology and human capital. European Union was in serious economic crises, Britain was threatening to quit the E.U, Greece almost defaulted and had to survive through bail-out fund from Germany’s tax payers. The debt profile of many E.U. countries had reached a frightening level. In all these, there had to be a scape goat and its definitely going to include Immigrants like me and Stephen. There was the issue of Terrorism and suspected plot to bomb major cities in Germany- Islamophobia was in the air and to make matters worse, I had not trimmed my beard for over a year. The thick forest beneath my jaws could accommodate bush rats.

      We were always on the run, some had resorted to stealing, and others had become street beggars. Stephen had gotten a menial job. As a first class graduate of law, he would have to wash dead bodies at a Morgue in the German capital. I also joined him for the night shift since I couldn’t find Leo or any of my Friends. I had come to realize that heaven and earth are far from each other. My journey from Chibok to Berlin is likened to a movement from fire to the frying pan. There was no hope, no future, yet the beautiful architecture takes my breath away. War had become a thing of the past and hunger had been quenched, yet I must set my dinner on the street and hope that the Guards are not on my trail even when the snows by their droppings turn nasty and red.

      There’s no short cut back to heaven except through death. I’ll have to wait when it gladly and willingly comes. Then, I will make my petition to olodumare and make bold my resolve that I’ll never again make the agonizing journey from heaven to earth or else…..  

                                                            End