ONE DAY, just when I was starting to think I was getting used to the barbaric acts of these men, something unusual happened.
Leah was nowhere to be seen. Me and her had bid farewell the previous night as each of us slept in different rooms. Leah was pretty with a soft voice and really upright breasts.
Her chocolate skin and well shaped legs always showed even in the midst of worries.
On this day, Leah had not woken up early as usual to help me with the work. A ray of worry crossed my mind. I quickly ran to her room, and she was not there. I checked the make-shift theatre and there it was, her dress, her shoes and her nice African Craft necklace. I was worried. My heart raced, my legs could not hold me any more.
Could she have become another victim of organ theft? Worry got hold of me as I crawled on the floor.
How could an innocent girl who I had started to feel for, become another victim of such barbaric acts. I blamed God, I blamed poverty, I blamed African governments that seemed to not care for its citizens.Such an innocent soul. Why would she die in such inhuman ways.
I wondered where her body could be. I figured out, the whereabouts of her body could also lead me to where several other people got dumped after the inhuman treatment.
But I was weak, what would I do.Then I heard a mild cry from another room underneath the wooden floors.
On opening, there she was, my Leah.
Crying, naked and shivering. Leah had been raped not just by one man, but by a gang of 7 men.
She had been woken up at 3am, dragged into the room by a heavily intoxicated man who commanded her to remove all clothes and stand naked in front. Her persistence had caused her to fight for her dear life, which not only led to the gang rape but also to near suffocation to death.
Her bruised neck, wounded waist and bleeding private parts were so evident but painful to look at.
I could not breath, I could not hold it. Leah, Leah. Why Leah. But this made me realise, anything was yet to happen to me. And I was right! Life was about to get more nasty! The pains of Dubai still bring nightmares todate.
Sex was their weapon, money their catalyst and body organs their trade.
Continued to Part 8.
(As told by Jaenatte Niwabine)