SALVAGE

1 Part story

Just this morning, a few minutes before 10AM, the crowd that gathered to witness the car accident which occurred in front of Orlu Zenith Bank revealed nothing short of a colossal loss. It was a female, lying totally lifeless as her limbs dangled to and fro on an attempt to raise her head off the tarmac road to which it had been impressed. But more tear-provoking was the preformed body -- a miniature individual very much like the structure Professor Anyanwu described in one of his Embryology classes. It exuded from the mother's belly, right on impact, and had decorated the surface of the road with a thin film of embryonic fluid. And still in these very traumatic moments, while I imagined the agony both victims passed through before taking the last breath, a shower of goose pimples trickled down my whole body, opening the gates for spherical drops to freely roll down my face.

"I said it", one of them thundered, " accidents keep recurring because there are no speed bumps on this bloody road!".

Now there was double the number I saw on arrival; each person with a countenance drenched in sorrow, and a heart submerged in pity.

The 16-KM Zenith Bank road, tarred with a blend of high-quality asphalt and bitumen, now boasts of animal blood as the ultimate ingredient for the maintenance of its beauty. Constructed early last year, it has claimed countless lives -- humans and other animals alike -- thereby giving concordance to the saying that " obu uzo onwu " ( it is the road of death). Not surprisingly therefore, the road has drawn the attention of many, and precautionary measures equally taken to avert any mishap to its credit. Yet, is it not ironical and utterly disappointing that, despite the awareness of the danger and the substantial number of victimized fellows, the newly tarred road still places an enticing bait which many " Ferrari " owners always fall prey to?

And now again, the trap catches dual life -- a pregnant creature who expects to be delivered of the young in a few months.

While all these took place, a reminiscence of the cadavers seen in the old Anatomy lab in school raced across my mind, bringing with it the familiar ghostly feeling of dissection, and the unmistakable voice of Dr. Ikele as he shouted orders like the Commander of the Nigeria Armed Forces. But it was better, in the sense that one could still make use of the dead bodies rather than these smashed pieces smeared all round the road where the accident happened.

It was as my eyes wandered all round the body that another shout came in a tone mixed with both excitement and hopelessness: "she's still alive!". And now I watched her as she flexed and extended her legs and her tail straightened out; she was not going to survive, she was only fighting inevitability.

At this point, I couldn't control the tears any longer, so I allowed them flow, stood up, made my way out of the crowd and headed home.

At some distance I looked back one last time; nobody was around, the road is now clear, vehicles on move, and the dog had been shoveled out of the road, into the gutter.