“In this world it’s either you are predator, or prey. Are we clear?” Kapo snaps me out of daydreaming about Jerome.

“Yes, Sir!” we all shout.

“It’s either you are a hunter, or you get hunted. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“You’ll see exactly what I mean in due course. I know right now you are confused. Let me just tell you that it’s not because of hatred that a lion devours an antelope. The lion hunts because it’s in its nature. The antelope knows very well that it is prey. That is why it was blessed with speed. Do you want to live with only the gift of speed – like prey? Do you always want to run away from danger?”

“No, Sir!”

“Good! That means you will fit well in my organization. I don’t want prey in my organization. I only want hunters. That is why we chose people who can fight. I will add more skills to the skills you already have; I won’t be starting from scratch. And remember, I only need four people. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“And to be one of the four you will have to fight for your life. There is no sister or brother here! No girlfriend or boyfriend! You don’t know anyone! You must have this mentality to survive, otherwise you will die! Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Good!” Kapo turns to one of his men and says, “Load them in the truck and take them to Hiroshima!”

The barrels of rifles shove our backs as Kapo slowly retreats to a dark corner of the hall. There is no time to complain or resist. At speed, we file into the trailer of a truck parked outside the hall. The trailer is a shipping container with the roof cut off. Tent fabric is stretched over the top as a makeshift roof. Each of us is given a plastic bag.

“So are we supposed to suffocate each other with these plastics bags? Are these our weapons?” asks a tall, thin Russian guy.

“Those are your individual toilets. Hiroshima is far and we won’t be stopping anywhere until we get there,” says one of the guards, who has climbed in after us.

More guards climb in. Behind them they stack tyres, handed up by the remaining guards. They are stacked high, so that if the trailer is opened it looks like the truck is delivering tyres.

We are commanded to sit on the floor. The guards sit on benches. They have their eyes on us every single second.

It quickly turns stuffy and smelly inside the trailer. The suffocating smell of tyres, sweat and armpits fills my lungs. I feel I’ll vomit anytime.

The truck drives off, jolting us roughly. I’d definitely vomit if there was any food in my stomach. But I’m hungry.

Anxiety rockets. How will I fight when I’m hungry? The Russian girls are probably fitter than I am. What if I’m supposed to fight Nqo? Could I kill Nqo? Could Nqo kill me?

God please be with us on this dark journey to Hiroshima. God please let me be one of the four who make it back from Hiroshima.

Kapo had told us in no uncertain terms that it would only be the four who win, who will return to The Blood Stain Temple. The rest will be killed.


Tell us: Do you agree with Kapo’s view of the world: you are either predator or prey? (For example in business, or in relation to criminals)?