Taduno's Song Read Online Free PDF

strange nobody can remember, and he became a man with no name and no face. They think he is at the heart of a sinister conspiracy to topple the government.’
    â€˜So the government is looking for a man they don’t know, a man with no name and no face?’ Taduno wore a bewildered look.
    â€˜Yes, but the girl Lela knows, and they are trying to make her reveal his identity.’
    â€˜And the boyfriend must become a praise-singer for the government if they are to release her?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Where are they holding her?’
    â€˜CID headquarters. But I don’t advise you to go there! You’ll only get yourselves arrested and tortured.’
    â€˜By the way,’ Aroli spoke slowly, ‘how would the government identify the man they are looking for if he has no name and no face?’
    â€˜By his voice,’ Sergeant Bello replied. ‘His voice is his identity. He has the most wonderful voice in the world. No other human being sings like him . . .’
    A slight pause.
    â€˜Look, by telling you all these things, I’m simply joining my voice to those of the people, hoping that my little contribution will make a difference.’ The Sergeant shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘As I said before, government does not believe in innocence. If they ever get to know all that I have told you, my life would be worth nothing. So as far as I’m concerned, I never met you two and I don’t know you as friends of Lela’s.’
    They finished their beer. Taduno settled the bill. And they stood up to go. To both Taduno and Aroli’s surprise, Sergeant Bello refused to take money in exchange for the information he had given them. ‘Take it as my contribution to the murmurings of the people,’ he said.
    *
    It was easy for Taduno to tell Aroli his story after that.
    â€˜I used to live a simple life at first. I used to be a musician and all I sang was love songs – songs that encouraged people to live as one, to love without asking for love in return, to give without thinking of receiving,’ he explained, pacing the small living room of Aroli’s apartment.
    It was his first time in the apartment since returning from exile, and everything was just the way he used to know it. The fake Mona Lisa still hung on the wall above the Sony television. The sofas were still the same, the ceiling fan still had the same hum, and the walls of the living room were still as bright as ever – a bright yellow that always reminded him of a nursery.
    He continued.
    â€˜And then everything changed, and I began to sing against injustice and oppression. Everything changed when the June 12th presidential election was annulled and the legitimate winner was thrown in jail. Through my music I became a force, a fierce enemy of the government.’
    â€˜But your name’s not on the wanted list published by the government some time ago,’ Aroli interrupted.
    â€˜That’s because you all forgot me – my family, friends,neighbours, the government – the entire country forgot me.’
    A short silence.
    â€˜So you started using your music to attack government,’ Aroli prodded, eager for him to continue his story.
    Taduno stopped pacing and dropped into a chair.
    â€˜Yes, I became an activist, a thorn in the flesh of government. The President’s soldiers beat me up on many occasions, sometimes leaving me for dead. They burned my car and closed my bank accounts. I remained unyielding. On many occasions the President tried to persuade me to give up, promising to make me very rich. But I turned him down, and I continued to fight him with my music. And then his soldiers threatened to kill me.’
    â€˜So you went into exile?’
    â€˜No, I continued to be a very vocal critic of the regime through my songs. Then they murdered the winner of the June 12th election in detention. The whole country erupted; the regime used the army and the