A thick and deep african accent is heard when the voice starts to life, speaking slowly, pausing after ever couple words
Do you know who I am? Nobody knows, I am a nobody. From Africa to be exact, a shithole. Namibia, german colony, fucking Nazis.
Them white people, abusing my sister, molesting here, I am not having anything of this. I go. I kill them. Now. They look for me. And I look for a way out.
I take all my money. Flee to Europe. A better land. All through Africa. Tunisia. By boat to Italy. Through France. To England. Finally. Scotland. They wanted to know my name. I was stupid. My name is Dembe Kazubo. Alright Mr. Kazubo you will be sent back. You are a murderer. I flee. Again. Into the country. There is a car on the side of a barn. Its nice. Unlocked. I open the door. Sit inside. There he comes. Gun raised. I step out. And he hit me on the back of the head. Black.
Then. I sit on a couch. In a nice house. He sits across from me. Brutus. Brutus North. He asks me. What is your name? What is your story? Why are you stealing? I tell him. The story I am saying here right now. He listens. Never stops me. I finish. Neither of us say a word. He takes out a knife. Cuts off the tape in my hands. Gives me a plate of food. I eat.
Brutus North, good person, he saved me, gave me a job, a purpose, good person.
Now it is my time to follow. I follow him where he goes. He is Mr. North. I am Dembe. Time passes. We seperate.
The radio goes to life. He calls for his followers. Come to a place. A place I cant pronounce. I go. Mr. North needs me. So I go.
Do you know who I am? Maybe. I am big. Wide. Strong. I can not read. I can not write. But I can hurt.
ends audio transmission