Conspiracy Theory (Part Two)

By Baba Galleh Jallow

The room into which Moses Mijofa was escorted looked more like a long, wide 
corridor, completely dark except for the flicker of two candlelights on 
either side of the wall halfway inside. Just before the flickering candles 
in the middle of the room stood an empty chair looking eerily like the 
chairs in which dead row inmates are electrocuted in the movies. When he 
reached the chair, he was asked to please sit down Mr. Mijofa. He walked 
over and sat in the chair, facing the dimly visible wall of the long dark 
corridor of a room several meters away. His two escorts stood behind him, 
their arms folded across their chests, as if they were waiting for somebody 
to appear or something to happen.

A deep ominous silence fell on the room, except for the dim noise and 
chatter of the outside world, which seemed to come from some other strange 
planet. Strange how the world could be reduced to such dark, restricted 
spaces Moses thought. He remembered Agamben’s spaces of exception - created 
by law yet outside law, in which human beings are reduced to mere bodies 
that can be killed but cannot be sacrificed, mere homo sacer. He still hung 
on to the many assurances he had received that everything would be just 
fine, even though events since he stepped off that plane had proven 
otherwise so far. Was this a torture chamber, an interrogation room, an 
execution chamber? He remembered gruesome details from the stories of 
victims of this regime’s torture tactics. They spoke of being soaked naked 
in ice-cold water in the mornings, followed by severe caning, 
tongue-pulling, violent tooth-uprooting by pincers, electrocution of the 
ears, the nose and the genitals. But he could see no electric outlet in this 
dark corridor of a room, and that gave him some kind of strange relief.

“Oho oho, so this is our famous radical Moses Mijofa!” The booming voice 
seemingly coming from everywhere made Moses start. He glanced back and 
peered ahead into the semi-darkness from where he thought the voice came.

“Welcome, welcome Mr. Moses. We are very happy to have you here with us 
tonight. Well, let me introduce you to our chat room where we are right now. 
Our boys like to call it the dungeon, but I prefer to just call it the chat 
room because that’s all we do in here, chat with our distinguished guests 
like you.”

Moses could still not see the source of that voice. He glanced up at the 
faces of his two
statue-like escorts but could not catch their eyes. They seemed totally 
unconscious of his presence or the booming sound of that strange voice. Yet 
he knew they all heard it. He was not dreaming.

“Relax, relax Mr. Moses,” the voice continued. “You cannot see us from where 
you are but we are seeing you just fine and that is the important thing. Now 
tell us Mr. Moses, what brings you to our corrupt country as you like to 
call it in your speeches and lectures and writings?”

‘This is my homeland,” Moses said, trying to sound as composed as he could 
in the circumstances. “I have a right to visit my homeland.”

“Ho ho ho ho ho. Oh yes, I almost forgot about your human rights and your 
rule of law. You like to use those words Mr. Moses. Yes, yes you have your 
rights and your rule of law and you always use those rights and rule of law 
to insult His Excellency the President of this country; and you use those 
rights and rule of law to call us animals – no, sorry not animals, what’s 
the word I’m looking for - ehm - oh yes, you call us dictators and depots or 
something like that. And you say that we have destroyed this country and 
that we kill people and even that His Excellency himself kills people with 
his own hands and gives them to his crocodiles and steals this country’s 
money. Did you not say all those things Mr. Moses? And were you not afraid 
that as killers we would kill you if you come here? Just a friendly chat 
here Mr. Moses. Just a friendly chat.”

Moses Mijofa was stunned. He was in a complete daze and did not know where 
or how to begin talking to his invisible interrogator. He had imagined that 
things might get difficult, but this was beyond his wildest nightmares. He 
tried to resign himself to his fate. If he must die, he must die with his 
integrity.

“No I was not afraid. I have the right to express my opinions about things 
going on in my country.”

“All right, you have the right to express your opinions Mr. Moses. But can 
you prove that we kill people in this country and that His Excellency kills 
people and gives them to his crocodiles? Who told you that His Excellency 
has crocodiles in the first place? If you have your rights to make 
accusations Mr. Moses, you must be ready to provide evidence to prove them 
when required by your rule of law. So, do you have proof to back up your 
serious allegations against all of us in this room and even against His 
Excellency the President of this republic?”

Moses Mijofa stayed silent. In spite of himself, he was almost trembling on 
the chair. Drops of cold sweat plopped up on his forehead and he felt as if 
he was being suffocated. He just could not believe what was happening. And 
he could not think of any sensible answers to give that insistent 
interrogator. He had not expected any of this. He had trusted in the many 
strong assurances he received that nothing would happen to him. That 
everything would be just fine. Now, his life seemed to be hanging by a tiny 
thread.

“And just so you know Mr. Moses,” the voice continued, “we have many, many 
files and documents about your activities in Europe and around the world. 
You think we don’t know what you are doing out there but we know. We also 
have our rights and our rule of law. We know about your connections with 
some bad elements planning to overthrow the democratically elected 
government of His Excellency the President. And we expect you to tell us 
more about that in the morning. But we will let you get some sleep for now 
if you can. Take him away boys.”

The two men grabbed Moses Mijofa by the armpits and roughly lifted him up 
from the chair. They pushed him before them and marched him towards the 
entrance to that ominous corridor of a room. He wondered who the man with 
the booming voice was and what the hell all that nonsense about connections 
with bad elements was.

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