04/01/2026
Into The Hot Tarmac: The Last Debate
My name is Darray—Lieutenant Darray back then, in the Shookuna Movement Army. I was twelve years old when my brother brought me into the camp and told me this was where we belonged now. I didn’t understand the rules or the politics, only the fear in his eyes when he said we had to stay.
And today… a man died.
It was a scorching Tuesday of January 12th, 2022, the air above the Kwirishi Bypass was thick and shimmering, not just from the brutal 36°C midday harmattan heat, but from the collective furnace of ten thousand enraged lungs in the nearby Korasha City, where protests against corruption had shaken the streets into a wild heartbeat.
The smell was a harsh blend of sweat, burnt rubber, and the metallic tang of tear gas residue. I stayed hidden behind a burnt-out civilian bus, the last piece of cover separating me from the men, trying to look brave, but my eyes were fixed on my brother, Kai.
Unlike me, Kai was a man of the people, fearless in the face of danger and our father’s favourite. He was dressed in his usual faded, torn buba and sokoto, clothes that barely clung to his thin, stubborn frame. He looked tired, but his gaze was steady and unwavering. He stood a respectful distance from the man in uniform, Assistant Superintendent Bukinna Roggers.
The ASP, in his pristine but sweat-soaked dark-blue uniform, looked like a monument of duty. His rifle, a frightening, futuristic thing called a Tavor X95, was held casually, pointed at the ground between them, less a threat and more a heavy piece of equipment. I hated its black shine.
“We finally meet outside of Twitter, Mr. police officer,” Kai called out, his voice raw but calm.
“Why don’t you choose the side of the people for once?”
Bukinna adjusted his grip, his face hard but earnest. “Ah, the side of the people,” he said, wiping sweat off his brow. “How about I choose the side of order, Kai, eehn, how about that? The side that stops this nation, this city, from sliding into the abyss. You call whatever it is you and your little minions think you’re doing freedom; I call it for what it is, a prelude to civil war.”
I listened, eyes darting between them, trying to make sense of the big words.
“I am the servant of the law,” the policeman thundered, aggressively beating his chest, sounding sure of himself. “That man you seek to destroy is an elected official. He represents a constitutional order, and you, Kai, are operating outside the legal framework. You are a criminal, and I wish there was a way I could make you understand that I am the one on the right side of this. I uphold the structure, I believe in the possibility of change within the system, and I also believe in achieving that change in a peaceful and lawful way.”
Kai simply sighed, a sound of profound disappointment.
“Structure, you say? What structure? Structure built on mud? You call it law; we call it a sophisticated system of theft that launders evil into legitimacy. Your so-called law protects the right of politicians to loot. An unjust law is an act of violence, not an act of order. The only law I agree with is the moral law, the one etched onto the faces of the children whose future that man you protect is stealing. You are simply an accomplice defending thieves with your rifle.”
I almost clapped. The money Papa spent on Kai’s secondary education hadn’t gone to waste, I thought, and then Bukinna continued making his case.
“You speak of morality, but we both know your actions only guarantee instability. Look at the chaos you cause, what is the moral in that? Who takes over when you bring down this government? You? Your Commander? The military?! My loyalty is to the stability of this nation. I ensure there is still a nation left to fix. I am doing the good, necessary work of holding the line so the whole city doesn’t collapse.”
I understood the policeman’s argument. Mama had always preached that stability was better than chaos. But my brother wasn’t having any of it; his voice remained even, almost academic, as if correcting a failed thesis.
“The anarchy is already here, Bukinna. You just wear a uniform that makes you blind to it.”
Kai’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“In the North, farmers are slaughtered daily. The Southerners are kidnapping and selling human parts for money. Insecurity everywhere. The politicians’ corruption is the instability, and your “peace” only guarantees graveyards, officer. I have made it my job to fight these true agents of destabilisation that you seem so oblivious to.”
This point seemed to cut deepest, and Bukinna dropped his gaze momentarily, the safety catch of his Tavor feeling cold.
“You know,” he began, adjusting the collar of his uniform, “people always think police officers are heartless monsters. That we enjoy standing in the sun all day shouting commands, extorting and arresting people.”
He chuckled, but it was dry and bruised.
Read full story on Medium.
https://medium.com//into-the-hot-tarmac-the-last-debate-cf0a7f610f31
