A new day had finally dawned on Kasilami, a day of purpose and great possibilities. The town was growing and the train brought in many new tourists and business was good for all that traded at the local train station. The growing interest in Kasilami, put a demand on the local town mayor to arrange for an additional train to bring tourists in.

The local women formed a choir and they met the tourists in with song as they ascended the train. They sang popular local songs, and danced and showed off rhythm and they looked beautiful dressed in their bright coloured traditional outfits looking proud like peacocks. The tourists loved it. They joined in and danced and soaked in all that they could. Although they did not know what the words of the song said, they were sure it meant brotherly love. Because judging from the faces of the women and the way they danced and the way they felt when the melody hit them, it all translated to love.

This high level of care, thoughtfulness and hospitality was another draw card for Kasilami. The locals were themselves and that experience was genuine and satisfying to the receiver. Week in and week out, as much as they saw new faces descending the train, they saw old faces as well, back for another dose of love from the locals.

The town did not improve much in infrastructure; its power was in its darkness, its authenticity. The tourist travelled far to see the locals, their mud huts, their livestock, their hunter gather philosophies.

As good as all this was, it breaded a new thorn that challenged the mayor, the Bishop and the community at large. Exposure to the city’s influences rose expectations in everyone, involuntary. However, this new pressure, moulded new characters within the community. Some went and received favour and achieved better things for themselves.

Some went and the city spewed them out, and the rejection left them bitter, careless and thoughtless. Petty crimes escalated to serious crimes. There was tangible display of moral decay that was growing in Kasilami and those who had weak characters and no discipline for hard work, transformed as the mould engraved itself on them. Neighbours turned on their neighbours. Brothers fought with brothers. Jealousy thrived and filled the town. All had high expectations from life, not all were willing to follow honourable methods to achieve their goals.

The mayor received numerous letters of complaints from the community. A solution ought to be sought to straighten out the community’s outcast. The mayor consulted in length with the Bishop. The Bishop escalated the matter in prayer for a divine interaction. The mayor continued to consult other mayor for possible solutions. A justice system had to be developed. One that was fair and looked at matters on both side. The judgement had to be based on the actions of a reasonable man. The mayor truly did not know how he was going to appease the people and dilute the burning issue at hand. But he carried on consulting and soon a solution was found.

Every Tuesday court proceedings were held for the public at the amphitheatre and the Bishop sat in and arbitrated. He worked with a changing jury of six local people every Tuesday and the accused had to convince the jury and the Bishop that what he did could be termed the actions of a reasonable man. There was no formal setting. The public could just stand around and listen. All that was demanded was order and silence.

The court case proceedings took place early in the morning and at times it could take the whole day. It was hilarious, trivial matters mostly but every now and again, a serious case would make the roll but nothing sinister. Boys accused of stealing items at the stalls. Many marriages came under scrutiny at these hearings. Wives found out what their husbands had been up to with the ladies of the night and refused to pay.

Money laundress brought forward their distress of clients that did not make payment. Women brought their children before the community for rebuking and discipline. And so it went. After hearing your case, the Bishop and the jury would consult with one another and then the Bishop would pass your judgement. Many blamed him for giving harsh sentences and not acting like the kind–hearted man of God he ought to be. But the tiny Bishop wasn’t shaken.

After your case was heard and motion was passed against you and the public and the Bishop found you guilty, you were then chained, put on the train to a real prison, somewhere past the city. Those who had been sent and come back say it is a real dark place.

You are physically bound by walls and your mind is hypothetically bound by its reality. Every new day is worse than the one that had just past. There is no freedom and there is no hope or light. No light, even in the literal sense.

Horrendous stories were shared amongst men of the beatings and the gangs and the savage lifestyles that go on in prison. There is a complete disregard for human rights and human privacy. Some men remarked that even wild animals have more morals than some people in there. People are thrown together into a confined space to live together. There is lack of food, lack of personal hygiene. There is lack of personal growth or development.

The prisoners are let out of their holding cell once a day to partake in physical activities. They are let out very early, just as daybreak. They chain their feet with thick chains. They spend the rest of the day outside either digging, or gardening or performing whichever chore they have been assigned. The spirit of bullying reigned supreme amongst the prisoners. Prisoners usually sided with each other according to crimes committed, where they came from, cultures and beliefs.

People attacked each other savagely in the presences of the guards and they turned a blind eye to it. Either because it happened so often it was somewhat acceptable or they were sparing their own lives. There were countless occasions reported where guards had lost their lives as a result of interfering in fights between the prisoners. Some guards were people we knew personally -people that lived in Kasilami. If such a case occurred, and the guard involved was killed, 2 or 3 guards would report to the deceased’s home to announce his passing. They would blow a horn and everyone would know what it meant.

This was the worst that Kasilami knew, someone dying in prison. Death was something dark and rare in Kasilami. People died here of natural causes and at very late ages. They were buried in the middle of the night at the back of their house and if the children asked where that person was, they claimed he left at night and still has not returned.

Murder was unheard of in Kasilami. It was inconceivable that one human being could be so cold and ruthless to end another’s life. But it happened once. The whole town was in mourning. Thekeza murdered his wife.

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Tell us: Do you think the city can change a person from the rural villages? What causes these influences?