As children, we were greatly mystified by capital punishment.
We did not quite understand how it worked. But the basics were clear to us.
It was said when a human being killed another, then he would be put on trial and killed as well. There were lots of stories about the final days leading up to the execution.
I guess I could make sense of the trial part. After all I was often on trial at home for getting up to mischief.
Every kid was acquainted with a trial because we all made regular appearances in the family court presided over by our parents.
Granted, a trial involving a person who killed another was the stuff of grown ups. The whole notion that a human being could kill a fellow human being chilled us to our bones. This was serious stuff for even the kids who did nasty things.
Indeed some of us were pretty nasty.
We did not bat an eyelid when it came to killing lizards and skinning them. As for rats and other members of the rodent family, it was as easy as a stroll in the park. I must confess I stuck to lizards and rats.
However there were play mates who did even nastier things. They partook in the hunting and killing of cats. Up to this day grown up as I am, I am absolutely terrified of cats. I remember that some particularly nasty boys would kill a cat, cut off its head and brandish it around, striking mortal fear in some of us.
The nasty boys also killed dogs. By the time they graduated from lizards and rats to the league of cats and dogs they were downright evil.
At this stage good parents could distinguish between the evil children and their innocent counterparts. I suppose when we killed cats and rats, adults turned a blind eye. But when it came to cats and dogs they put their foot down.
Nonetheless some boys made the transition easily, and without any punishment from their parents. I often wondered if the people who ended up killing others belonged to the category that, in its childhood days, had derived satisfaction from killing cats and dogs instead of the less evil hobby of putting lizards and rats out of their misery.
You see, I am convinced that if we trace the play history of every murderer, the answer would be found in what they had killed in their childhood days.
So, the topic of the death penalty preoccupied us because deep down we were all aware that what we were doing to all those lizards and rats was wrong. That is why we listened with keener interest to the radio news when somebody was executed for killing a fellow human being.
There were adults who seemed to know a lot about what happened in death row. It was said they spent all their time stark naked in case they used their clothes to hang themselves.
Apparently, they were not allowed to mingle with other prisoners who had done less harmful crimes such as stealing a chicken. In fact death row inmates were said to be crazy and spent all their time singing religious songs. Their songs were confessional and lamented all the innocent people they had robbed and murdered. From listening to stories of death row it would seem it was not all so bad.
For instance, the condemned were said to enjoy hearty meals. They were fed food different from the fare given to chicken thieves. Many murderers had entered death row very thin and hungry. But after a few months in there, they were plump and glowing because of all the nice food they ate.
The story tellers said it was the policy of the government that condemned prisoners could demand every food item they fancied. The prison warders were not allowed to refuse them whatever it is they wished to eat.
Whereas other prisoners were put to work, the death row inmates were a special lot and spent all their time sleeping, eating and singing those confessional songs.
On the day of the execution they would just after midnight be allowed to take a long hot shower. Again they would be pampered. They chose whatever they craved for breakfast.
In one of the versions I heard, and told by a man who claimed to have been a prison warder, they would eat hotel food. Yep, the ex prison warder said on the morning of the execution the hotel would relocate its kitchen to the prison for the condemned man to pick and choose food that some of us only saw in catalogue pictures.
After eating he would be allowed to take a nap. Then he would bid his relatives farewell and disappear into a dark room with a hood over his face where a priest would pray for him before the trapdoor swung open.
These are stories I heard in my childhood. But even as a grown up, I have never been able to attest to their veracity because no one has ever come forward with an official version. The stuff about condemned prisoners eating hotel food has never been disproved. The stuff about being kept naked, sleeping all day long and singing confessionals has never been contested.
As far as I know death row stories of my childhood are true. Which is why I was quietly disappointed this week when I heard about the abortive dash for freedom by a local death row inmate called Modise Mokwadi Fly.
Apparently, he was the first man to escape from death row in the history of this country. Reports say he tasted freedom for all of fifteen minutes before the authorities apprehended him. What a pity. Had Modise Mokwadi Fly made it, there is no doubt the stories of my childhood would have been put to the test.
From a hideout somewhere, he would have given an exclusive newspaper interview about all the things that happen in death row.
In particular, he would have, once and for all, cleared the air about the sumptuous meals they are said to enjoy. And, of course, he would have told the nation what is it he killed during his childhood play days.
Was he a lizards and rats man, like some of us busy enjoying freedom, or did he prefer cats and dogs?
