1. THE PLANTIFF
Laraba was a small framed woman, a beautiful assassin, compassionate murder and an
empathizing judge. In her view, all men must be judged and God had appointed her his left
arm, a sword over the vermin that call themselves citizens on Nigeria. She did not despise
people, she just pitied them. If only they knew that life was not worth the fight. The way
some of her plantiff gravelled and wailed in pain was both pathetic and pitiable. Her first
plantiff was her sorry excuse of a nanny. The woman could barely carry herself and she
walked around like and overfeed cow. Her father did not help matters as he was always on
one business trip or the other, tending to the miserable people that craved his attention.
Laraba starred at her nanny with masked disgust and herself did not know she dreaded the
women’s very existence. It happened that night of her 10th birthday, the night of her
transfiguration when the audaciously gruesome nanny stopped her from eating a piece of the
stoned cake she had baked. That night, she walked almost lifelessly into the square hole that
Ms. Nanny rested her large self. Standing at her bed side, she watched as saliva pour out of
the Nanny’s mouth like lava from a raging volcano. All that happened next was like in the
court of the dead. Ms. Nanny was gasping for air with a silver fork in her flesh ridden neck…
it was silent after 5 minutes of what felt like a year. Laraba was now sitting on a chair beside
the bed starring proudly at the bully. Her first master piece lay lifeless on the bed and she,
just knighted by God as the ultimate judge.
Slowly she stood up and walked out, closing the door silently behind her. In her room let
herself under the covers of her bed and silently thanked her mother for taking to the hills
when she was born. “Smart woman she though, she must have seen my gift and felt inferior”.
She then let sleep take her to the next day and phase of her life.
Laraba starred at her 25 year old reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not even her father could
curtail her taste for justice, her quest to rid the world of the weaklings that were constantly
produced by unfortunate beings. Today, Mallam Umar was on her list and even though her
father had pleaded that she leave him be, she filed him as one that was lacking the pose of a
true leader.
‘Mallam Umar should not…’
‘Father, that sorry excuse of a man has no regard for class. If he did he would not go to Mr
Peter to seek asylum for his incompetency.’
‘Laraba....’
‘He is a dead man father, just another guilty waste.’ She walked out of the room
Today was the day of his trial. She had arranged a meeting with him to discuss their
trajectory with regard the confiscated arms. In front of the mirror fully dressed like the typical
Hausa lady, well breed and well trained. Her Ankara was boldly and brightly patterned and
her large eyes were accentuated by her well tired scarf and veil, wrapped around her
shoulder; she was the perfect Hausa bride. Just when she was about to let it all go, she
realized that Mallam Umar was not worth her moral coverings. She did not need to disguise

2. herself to kill the man, he was not worth her artistry. She stripped down and put on her black
jeans, mutilated by the regard of fashion coupled with a Coco Chanel t-shirt. She smudged
her lips with plum lip colour which she thought to be very trendy and darken her eyes with
kajal . She let her hair pour on her shoulders likes a mass of untamed cotton pulled. ‘Let the
case begin’. She smiled at her reflection and strolled out victoriously to meet her next
plaintive.
‘Assalamualaikum Mallam Umar’ Laraba said as she walked into his office which was neatly
sited on the 20th floor of the Zenon building.
‘waalaikumsalam’
Mallam Umar was taken aback when he lifted his eyes to see Laraba in his office dresses like
an unbeliever and more confused as he had expected her father and not her.
‘What are you doing in my office? Where is your father?’
Laraba was already disgusted by is inquisition and his look of pretentious moralism. She let
herself into the chair at the other side of his table.
She starred at him and like all her other plaintiffs, pitied him. ‘My father has forgiven you for
all your enormously unforgiveable mistakes and has asked that I inform you that there would
be another shipment of which would be under your care’. Just when Malla Umar sighed a
breathe of relief, Laraba continued
‘You see, I do not have a very forgiving heart like the old man. I guess you can say I am
more human than the man I call father. And it is because of my understanding of human
nature that I find you actions completely unforgiveable and an insult to the smooth operations
this organization has functioned by over the years. And what is most insulting is that you
crawled with your tail between your legs to Mr Peter…Mr Peter? Laraba said with a rigid yet
feminine voice. She was now towering over Mallam Umar and maliciously smiling at him.
Laraba sat down and looked him straight in the eye, ‘tell me Mallam Umar, how long you can
hold your breath?