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Sometimes, good intentions can have bad outcomes. I am sure that Dr Amy Schofield didn’t have bad intentions when she contacted the police, yet it almost cost me my life. If I had been upfront to her about what had happened, she might have acted differently. In the end, it didn’t matter as Jesus still watched over me.
It all started a few days after my surgery. I was in pain, and my paranoia tormented me. The United Nations refugee camp attendants had given me a tent to sleep in, but I didn’t feel safe in it. I was alone, and I feared that some of the other refugees would come in at night and rape me. I was even more terrified that the police would come after me for what I did to Mbwana Kapombe.
The blonde female doctor who had saved me visited me in my tent.
“So, how are you feeling now?” The doctor asked gently.
“Not too good. I need to leave this depressing place. I hope I can get in contact with my relatives. I want to go back to my village.” I replied weakly.
“I see. What’s your last name? We have people working at reuniting families.” The doctor replied.
I hesitated. I felt terrified about what would happen if I gave the authorities my full name. Mbwana Kapombe had asked Phillippe to kidnap me for a reason, and everyone in the Kapombe Mansion knew my full name. Chances were that the police were already looking for me concerning Mbwana’s murder.
“I don’t want to give you my full name. I am afraid that bad men are looking for me.” I whispered. “The bad men that raped and mutilated you?” The female doctor asked.
“Yes...” I started to cry.
The doctor hugged me, kissed my forehead, and tried to comfort me. “It’s okay, love. I can protect you.”
“I don’t even know your name.” I said softly.
“My name is Amy Schofield, and I am from Australia,” Amy revealed with a strong and confident voice.
“Okay. I will be truthful. My last name is Nyamwasa. Please find my relatives. I just want to go home.” I pleaded.
“I promise I’ll do everything I can,” Amy assured.
I nodded and tried my best to give her a smile, as the beautiful and gentle Amy wiped my tears with a handkerchief. After a few minutes of silence, Amy spoke again. “Would you like to tell me who raped you? Perhaps we can punish them for what they did.”
I have often reflected over what would have happened if I came clean with Amy at this moment. Would she have contacted the police if I told her that I killed Mbwana Kapombe after he raped me, or would she have understood and kept silent? I didn’t reply at that time, which was a foolish choice, since she already knew my full name, and she had promised to look for my relatives.
***
“SAMANTHA NYAMWASA? I am Detective Pesa Nassoro from the Tanzanian Police. Do you mind if I come in?”
I froze and stared in terror at the burly man who stood in the opening of my small tent. I had seen many men like him slaughter and torture my peers over the last few months. Most of all, I feared his reason for visiting.
Pesa didn’t wait for my reply. He entered my tent and squatted next to me. He pulled out a photograph from his pocket and threw it at me. I looked at the photo. It was a crime scene photo of how the cops found Mbwana Kapombe, after I bludgeoned him to death.
“Do you know why I am here?” Pesa accused.
As I shook my head, Pesa slapped me.
“Don’t lie to me, Samantha,” Pesa shouted.
“I am sorry...” I whispered.
“I can’t hear you,” Pesa exclaimed.
“I am sorry!” I yelled.
Pesa nodded and studied me in silence for a while. After a piercing silence that shook me to the core with fear, he spoke again. “So, let me be clear. If you ever lie to me again, I’ll lock you up and throw away the key. Do we understand each other?”
I nodded.
“So why did you kill Mbwana Kapombe? He gave you refuge and a nice place to stay. Yet you murdered him in his sleep.” Pesa continued with his intimidations.
“He raped me. He tortured and mutilated me.” I said in defiance.
Pesa punched me in the face and broke my nose. “I told you not to lie to me, Tutsi vermin. Mr Kapombe’s housekeeper, Mansa, told me you were a deluded girl who turned to self-harm and cut your own genitalia. You murdered the man who protected you. That’s how crazy you are.” Pesa ranted.
“I am telling you the truth. He tortured and mutilated me.” I wheezed in defiance.
Pesa kicked me in the gut and sent my body into shock. Blood was flowing out from my genitalia, as the kick opened the wounds that Mbwana had caused a week earlier. Pesa dragged me from the ground to an upright position. He stared into my eyes and hissed. “You killed a great man from my village. Admit your crimes and the people will judge you fairly. Lie and you shall suffer.”
“What on earth is going on in here?”
Pesa pushed me to the ground and turned to the source of the voice, Dr Amy Schofield.
“This girl is a killer. I am bringing her with me.” Pesa shouted.
“You are doing no such thing. You came here to ask her a few questions, not to beat her into a pulp.” Amy replied sternly.
“You can’t tell me what to do. This is my country.” Pesa warned.
“You are in a United Nations refugee camp. This area is under UN jurisdiction.” Amy stated.
Pesa was about to attack Amy when two UN soldiers entered the tent. “Dr Schofield. What is going on?” One of the soldiers asked.
“This man is trespassing. Please escort him away from the camp.” Amy commanded.
Pesa gazed at Amy with hateful eyes, as he left the UN camp without further confrontation.
***
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL me the truth that you killed Mbwana Kapombe?” Amy asked me.
“I was afraid. Look what happened.” I sobbed.
“It wouldn’t have happened if you told me the truth,” Amy stated.
“I am sorry. I should have trusted you.” I whimpered.
Amy sat silent for a while. She looked away in the distance, and she seemed to be reflecting over her choices. Eventually, she spoke.
“We need to leave Tanzania straight away. It’s not ideal, but I fear what will happen if Pesa returns with a mob to attack us. The locals admired Mbwana for his efforts to develop the Nyakasanza region.”
“So, you’ll risk your life to save me?” I asked.
“I didn’t come to Africa to let the innocent suffer,” Amy replied strongly.
“I am not innocent. I did kill him.” I objected.
“You cannot get a fair trial here. Mbwana had it coming for what he did to you.” Amy stated.
“Thank you, Amy.” I whispered.
Amy muttered something, grabbed a large blanket, and spoke. “Come with me. We are leaving.”
I followed Amy to her car, and I hid in the trunk of the car while Amy drove us to Burundi, away from the dangers we faced in Tanzania.