Among other sets of accoutrements of horrendous and indescribable torture I went through while in CMI custody was when I used the toilet in which I had been locked- to shit, and upon one officer coming in to serve me drinking water, found me shitting comfortably.
He mercilessly kicked and made me fall from the toilet seat like a bag of potatoes.
I was chained both hands and legs so gathering myself up again was kind of a Herculean task.
“You idiot this is not a toilet” he fumed with rage and the whole room parvaded with cigarette breath from his malodorous mouth.
“But this is a toilet, sir” I retorted with a recalcitrant voice.
“Kumanyoko. Eat that shit now” he commanded.
I looked at him askance. The beanie that had blindfolded me had fallen down amidst the exchange.
He grabbed my head by the ears and sank it into the toilet bowel. My mouth almost kissed the mound of unflushed constipated shit that had been floating on water inside the bowel.
With a lot of anger and jeering, he stomped out and brought a basin full of water and poured into the toilet and some sprinkled onto my clothes. He reached for the keys in his pocket and chained me on the bars that jut out of the toilet wall, and I spent the night there, praying to God.
Writing is not a crime. It is not a crime to be creative.
Kakwenza Rukira is the author of a now famous book titled The Greedy Barbarian.