The Truth that wasn't there

Nine

Owondiki's prison/room was a wide circle, lit with white bulbs that shone over the gray walls. There were decorated steel shelves, built around the tree trunks of erkanara trees that dug from the ceiling into the ground. The trees kept the earth above from collapsing down on her. The bed was on one side of the room, with one edge, curved like a circle that fitted into the wall while the other side was straight, making the bed a semi-circle with colorful pillows and a blue blanket on the gray sheets.

She had a television on the wall and a bathroom all to herself. She hadn't expected windows, but the air-conditioner was keeping the place ventilated and cool.

At least, it wasn't Ibesan.

She spent the first night pacing the room, unable to sit for long, wondering when they were going to bust into the room and demand answers that she wasn't willing to give. These people were rebellious savages. There was no depth to which they wouldn't sink.

"Good morning," a woman said, as she brought in fresh clothes, picked up the remote on the desk, and turned the television on. She even dropped a tray of food for Owondiki that Owondiki eyed with suspicion. Lastly, she uncuffed Owondiki and then she left.

As she opened the tray of yam and stew, Owondiki's stomach growled. Who was she kidding? She was hungry and tired. Before she knew what was happening, she was cleaning off the plate with her tongue and drinking the whole bottle of water.

Seconds after she burped, Owondiki was fast asleep on her bed.

___

She spent every waking hour in front of the television.

She had an entire network dish to herself, but Owondiki was too anxious to watch anything but the Jiki Broadcasting Network (JBN). She left it running when she was in the bathroom when she was sleeping or just pacing the room in nerve-wracking frustration.

Usehjiki hadn't seen rain since the clans went into isolation and yet every other African country in the region was in peak rainy season. The farms in Osekoni that fed the country were drying out and people were complaining on the news. Riots broke out over the tiny patches of fertile land and markets had to close because people kept looting each other's goods.

So far, six major riots had broken out across the country and the number of casualties was rising between clan-supporting commoners and anti-clans rebels. Owondiki couldn't bear to watch the news coverage of it but the Prime Minister kept trying to assure everyone that everything would go back to normal as soon as the storm passed.

"What storm?" Owondiki had asked before she checked herself. It wasn't her place to question the Prime Minister. If the clans said everything would be all right, then all they had to do was wait.

Besides, the biggest issue was Jera Franklin who was causing more concern.

"...we have twelve reported dead and twenty injured from the raid at the CA facility in Izecha. Jera Franklin and her hoard of terrorists killed twelve of the very people she claims to be fighting for..."

Owondiki had frowned at that, because as Jera had said, killing commoners was not her way. But if the clans said it was so, then it had to be. Besides, they'd blindfolded Owondiki on the way out of the building. There was no way for her to be certain that Jera's people hadn't murdered innocent citizens on the way in.

"... we mourn the solemn passing of Director Kemeka Izeh who has been ill for months now. Sources say he slumped at one of the seclusion units and was rushed to a Jiki citizens hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival ..."

"Heh?" Owondiki asked the television, as she remembered the director falling to death as Jera's bullet struck him.

Then she shook her head. There had to be a reason why they would change the story. Jera wanted chaos and telling everyone about the director's death would cause chaos. This was the clans' way of protecting everyone. Owondiki had to believe that.