THE HAND OF A GRABBER BY_ MOHAMED SMART ALUSINE

Chapter 1: The Beast of the Center

Freetown never sleeps before 5am. The generators cough, the bike men shout, and the market women in bright lappas already rush toward Abacha.  

In the middle of the noise sat Bolo.  

He was tall, black, with a gold chain that caught the morning light. A plastic chair, one malt, and eyes that never blinked.  

To the hawkers he was “Uncle Bolo.” To the police he was “no evidence.” To the streets he was the Beast.  

Every morning his boys moved first. They took tables, chased competitors, and collected “protection.”  

Bolo never touched anything himself. That was his cleverness.  

A banana seller ran to him crying. “Bolo, they took my table.”  

He sipped his drink and said, “Go home and eat.”  

By nightfall her table was firewood and two boys were in CID.  

One afternoon a black Prado pulled up. Mr. Frank stepped out with papers.  

“I need Wanose land cleared,” he said.  

Bolo smiled. “Money talks.”  

They went that night. Cutlasses, shouting, one man limping away with a broken leg.  

Mr. Frank got his title. Bolo got a foothold in BawBaW.  

He never returned to Abacha. He stayed and started grabbing more land.  

Families who complained disappeared behind the cassava fields.  

Bolo was afraid of juju, so he traveled to Kabala.  

Pa Almamy was old and blind. He drew black lines on Bolo’s arms and chest.  

“One part must see the sky,” the old man said. “Then you are not finished.”  

Bolo laughed all the way back to Freetown.  

When the headman election came, Bolo stood behind ABT.  

“Vote this man,” he told the crowd. People nodded and stepped back.  

Then came Wanose. Youth land near the stream.  

“Boss, they say no,” Kojo warned him.  

“We take it,” Bolo said.  

On Saturday they went with cutlasses. Twenty youth were waiting with stones and petrol.  

It was quick and bloody. Kojo was tied with rope and a concrete block and thrown into the sea at Lumley.  

For Bolo they dug a shallow hole behind the mango trees.  

They beat him and covered him with dirt.  

But in the rush, his right hand stayed out. Fingers pointing to the sky.  

Two days later CID started arresting people.  

Joseph, the acting headman who opposed ABT, was the first.

Chapter 2: The Hand Above the Dirt

It rained for three days straight. The gutters in Freetown ran brown and fast.  

Nobody knew where Bolo was. The town whispered but said nothing.  

Sorie was the madman of Wanose.  

Every morning he carried two yellow jerry cans to the stream. He talked to the water, to the trees, to himself.  

On Monday he stopped in his tracks.  

In front of him was a fresh mound of dirt.  

Sticking out of it was a black hand.  

Sorie stared for a long time. Then he poured water on it.  

“Are you cold?” he asked.  

He ran to the elders. “Come! The hand is talking!”  

By noon fifty people stood around the mound with phones out.  

Inspector Saffa came from CID HQ in Freetown.  

He was tired, his shirt was wrinkled, but his eyes were sharp.  

“Who found it?” he asked.  

“Sorie, the madman,” someone laughed.  

Saffa looked at Sorie. “Show me exactly.”  

Sorie pointed with a shaking finger.  

They started digging. The smell hit them first.  

Then came Bolo’s face. Eyes open. Mouth full of earth.  

That one hand was still pointing up to the sky.  

Whispers started immediately. “Pa Almamy’s charm.”  

On Thursday fishermen found Kojo at Lumley beach.  

A concrete block was tied to his feet. Crabs were in his shirt.  

Back in BawBaW the arrests were loud.  

CID dragged Joseph from his veranda in slippers.  

They also picked up Junior, Dumbuya, and Tamba — Bolo’s boys.  

In the interview room Junior started crying.  

“We didn’t want to go to Wanose,” he said. “Boss said ABT needed the land for his people.”  

Without Bolo, BawBaW felt different.  

Mr. Frank hired new Guinean guards.  

Families Bolo chased came back with old papers.  

At night dogs barked near the mango tree at nothing.  

In Pademba Cell 4, Joseph counted the cracks in the wall.  

On the third night a lawyer in a suit visited him.  

“Keep quiet about ABT,” the lawyer said. “And we will get you out.”  

Joseph asked, “What if I’m innocent?”  

The lawyer smiled. “In BawBaW, innocent is a story for children.”

Chapter 3: What the Hand Points To?

By evening the photo of the hand was on every WhatsApp group.  

“THE BEAST IS DOWN” people wrote. “JUSTICE.”  

CID raided Bolo’s room in BawBaW.  

Under his bed they found a black polythene bag.  

Inside was 80 million Leones and land deeds.  

Some of the papers had brown stains on them.  

In a small leather pouch was black powder, cowries, and roots.  

Pa Almamy’s signature was all over it.  

ABT started holding “community meetings.”  

No posters, just elders sitting under the cotton tree with tea.  

“The land must belong to the people,” he said. “No more grabbers.”  

He never said Bolo’s name once.  

Aminata, Joseph’s wife, went to the well and the market every day.  

“My husband was at mosque when that man died,” she told everyone.  

At 3am Joseph woke up in his cell.  

He heard scraping, like someone with a shovel.  

The guard on duty that night resigned the next morning.  

“I saw a shadow,” he told Saffa. “One hand, by the mango tree.”  

Seven nights after the burial it rained again.  

The next morning people went to the grave.  

The zinc sheet was moved to one side.  

The hole was empty.  

Only muddy footprints led into the bush toward the Kabala road.

Chapter 4: Ballots and Blood 

Two weeks later the government said BawBaW must elect a headman.  

ABT started wearing white every single day.  

“Unity. Youth. Progress,” he told every crowd.  

Razor, Bolo’s loudest boy, stood at the back of every meeting.  

Arms crossed, eyes watching everyone.  

Aminata did all the campaigning for Joseph.  

“He is a man of the mosque,” she said. “A man of the people.”  

Election Day came under the cotton tree.  

There were plastic chairs and one ballot box with a rusty padlock.  

Two police officers stood by looking tired.  

First came the old men, leaning on sticks.  

Then the market women with their babies on their backs.  

Then the youth came in groups, looking over their shoulders.  

Voting ended at 5pm. Counting started under torchlight.  

At 6pm the results were nailed to a wooden board.  

ABT: 312 

Alhaji Conteh: 98 

Spoiled: 14

Drums started. People danced.  

ABT gave a speech. “This is BawBaW’s victory. No more fear.”  

Razor stood in the back and did not clap.  

That same week Joseph’s trial began in Court No.1.  

The charge was conspiracy to murder Alhaji Bolo alias the Beast.  

Junior was put on the stand. His voice was small.  

“The boss said Joseph was the problem,” he said.  

Saffa put the photo of the hand on the projector.  

The whole courtroom went quiet.  

“Where is the body now?” the magistrate asked.  

“We don’t know, your worship,” Junior said.  

“Bail denied,” the magistrate said.  

That night ABT sat in the headman’s chair.  

It was Bolo’s old chair, but with new cloth.  

There was a knock at the door. It was Razor.  

“The boys are asking about the Wanose papers,” he said.  

“The land belongs to the youth,” ABT replied.  

Razor walked out saying, “The hand pointed up for a reason.”

Chapter 5: The Headman in Chains

The next morning a new paper was on the board.  

JOSEPH KAMARA: 278 

ABT: 132  

Alhaji Conteh: 98 

Aminata dropped her bucket at the well when she heard.  

In Pademba, a warder opened Cell 4.  

“Headman,” he said to Joseph.  

Bail was set at 50 million Leones.  

The community contributed and paid it.  

Joseph walked out wearing the same slippers he was arrested in.  

He did not go to the big chair.  

First he went to mosque to pray.  

Then he went straight to Wanose.  

“This land will be surveyed,” he told the youth.  

“Every farmer will get papers. No more midnight grabbing.”  

That night his phone rang. It was CID.  

“Headman, your mosque witness is missing,” they said.  

At 2am there was a knock at his gate.  

It was Razor standing in the dark.  

“Headman,” he said.  

“What do you want?” Joseph asked.  

“The boys want to talk about the Wanose papers.”  

“Come in daylight,” Joseph said. “With minutes taken.”  

Razor turned and walked away.  

“The hand pointed up for a reason,” he said over his shoulder.

Chapter 6:

Razor did not give up.  

Three days later he came back with Dumbuya and Tamba.  

They stood on Joseph’s veranda in the afternoon sun.  

“We made Bolo rich,” Razor said.  

“We fought for him. Now we want 3 plots in Wanose.”  

“For us and the boys,” Dumbuya added.  

Joseph poured them water.  

“Bring your request to the council meeting,” he said.  

“Daylight. With everyone present.”  

Razor’s jaw tightened. “You’re playing games.”  

Two nights later there was fire in Wanose.  

Two farms belonging to youth leaders were burned to the ground.  

A note was pinned to a tree with a cutlass.  

_THE BEAST STILL EATS._  

The next morning the youth gathered with pangas and sticks.  

BawBaW smelled like smoke and anger.  

Joseph called the elders under the cotton tree.  

“If we fight them with cutlasses, we become them,” he said.  

“We must use the law and the people.”  

The elders nodded but they were afraid.  

Everyone knew Razor was not finished.

Chapter 7: The Witness

Aminata refused to sit down.  

She started asking questions everywhere.  

Someone told her the mosque imam had seen Joseph praying Fajr that morning.  

She found him in a small room in Wellington.  

He was an old man and his hands were shaking.  

“Baba, we need you to come and testify,” she pleaded.  

“He was praying when Bolo was killed,” she said.  

The imam nodded slowly. “I will come.”  

That night Joseph’s house was watched.  

By morning the imam was gone.  

Only his prayer beads were left on the bed.  

Aminata ran to CID.  

Saffa sent officers to look.  

They found nothing.  

That evening Sorie came to the station.  

“I saw something,” he told Inspector Saffa.  

“A black jeep,” he said. “No number plate.”  

“Big men took the old man,” Sorie whispered.  

Saffa checked the records.  

The jeep was registered to Mr. Frank’s new security company.  

Mr. Frank had left Freetown two days earlier.  

The case was getting more complicated.  

Joseph told Aminata to stop looking.  

“It’s too dangerous,” he said.  

But she kept praying.

Chapter 8: The Deal Breaks

ABT could not sleep.  

He met Razor by the river at night.  

“If Joseph goes to prison, we all go down,” ABT said.  

“You used Bolo to win,” he reminded him.  

Razor spat into the water.  

“You’re scared now,” he said.  

“We are the ones who made you headman.”  

ABT shook his head. “I won by votes.”  

Razor laughed and walked away.  

That same night Razor met with Dumbuya and Tamba.  

“We’re taking Wanose at dawn,” he said.  

“No more talking. No more council.”  

They planned to go with papers and cutlasses.  

Joseph heard about the plan from a boy in the market.  

He did not panic.  

Instead he called the chief imam.  

He called the elders and the youth leaders.  

He called a radio station in Freetown.  

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “Everyone come to Wanose.”  

“Let them come in daylight,” he told them.  

“Let the whole town see what grabbing looks like.”  

By midnight over 200 people said they would come.

Chapter 9: By the Grabber’s Word 

Dawn came to Wanose with mist over the fields.  

By 6am over 200 people were standing there.  

Elders, youth, women, and even children.  

Three journalists from Freetown were present with cameras.  

At 6:30 Razor’s boys arrived.  

There were about 15 of them.  

They had cutlasses and a folder of papers.  

Razor was in front wearing a black shirt.  

“This land belongs to us,” he shouted.  

“The Beast is dead but his work continues.”  

Joseph stepped forward.  

“This land belongs to the community,” he said calmly.  

“We have a survey and we have the law.”  

Razor pulled out a pistol.  

“Law? Whose law?” he asked.  

Tamba, who was nervous, fired a shot in the air.  

Everyone screamed and scattered.  

In the chaos Dumbuya ran backward.  

He fell into a pit they had dug for a new fence.  

He broke his neck instantly.  

Tamba turned and ran toward the stream.  

He slipped on the wet rocks and fell in.  

The same water that took Kojo took him too.  

Razor tried to run but the youth caught him.  

They found the gun still in his hand.  

“Put it down,” Joseph said.  

Razor dropped it and sat on the ground.  

“We were just collecting what was ours,” he kept saying.  

“The hand told us to come.”  

Police arrived 20 minutes later.  

They arrested Razor and the remaining boys.  

Mr. Frank’s jeep was found parked by the road.  

Mr. Frank himself had crossed to Guinea that night.

Chapter 10: The Hand Comes Down sentences

The trial took three months.  

Court No.1 was full every day.  

Razor pleaded not guilty.  

Then the mosque imam was found.  

He had been hiding in Port Loko, afraid.  

He came to court and testified.  

“I saw Joseph praying Fajr that morning,” he said.  

“I saw him until 7am.”  

The judge looked at the evidence.  

There was no link between Joseph and the murder.  

All charges against Joseph were dismissed.  

“Case closed,” the magistrate said.  

Razor was sentenced to life in prison.  

For illegal possession of a firearm and incitement.  

One year passed.  

BawBaW looked different.  

The mango tree now had a zinc roof.  

It was a community center where meetings were held.  

Wanose land was surveyed and registered.  

60 families received official papers.  

A new primary school was built there.  

ABT left BawBaW quietly and moved to Waterloo.  

Sorie was given a job as water attendant.  

He smiled more and talked to people less.  

Every evening Joseph sat with Aminata drinking attaya.  

An old woman at the well would tell the children stories.  

“The hand of a grabber is cruel and full of blood,” she would say.  

“If you live by grabbing, you die by grabbing.”  

“No charm, no big man, no gun can save you from that.”  

Bolo’s body was found months later in the bush.  

He was buried properly this time.  

Six feet down. Both hands in the ground.  

BawBaW was finally quiet.

© Mohammed Smart Alusine.