Security!

I have have had very few brushes with the men of the underworld actually I would call them views. The first time I ever saw armed robbers was on a sunday morning on our way to church. It was one of the few times I remember tying 'gele' as a child. We had just turned the corner from our house with my mum driving when we saw that a car about two cars ahead was being attacked. In the manner of rambo or someother superhuman, my mum turned the car round and we swung back into our compound in what seemed like nanoseconds. Of course my heart beat as loudly as the 'gangan' and my nicely tied gele was in shambles:)

I hear stories but have never been as close to the scoundrels as when I was 5 or was it 6. So moving to the Niger Delta has been one hell of an experience. With all the stories one heard before moving here I felt a bit of trepidation taking the job. Working and living here sometimes makes you think the newspaper articles are stage managed. Everyone outside the region hears about the kidnaps, violence etc and I frequently get phonecalls asking me how I am and after a bit of small talk I hear that some unhappy incident has occurred yet again.

The violence seems to have abated a bit, but as I work in a trauma centre I see first hand many of the casualties of the conflict firsthand and that makes my bold front dissappear sometimes.Going to work takes some ingenuity on my part. There are so many young men with nothing to do, they just stand around the parks, and street corners inviting trouble to find them. One usual answer from any of these jobless youths when they are asked who did this to you? Usually after a stabbing or some other injury is 'bad boys'. Everyone else is a bad boy but them.

My welcome present to this land by bandits was on a night that I felt relatively safe. I work in a notorious district in town and my journey to and from the centre is fraught with many whispered prayers. This day I was in the comfort of a colleagues car and I thought I was safe:) We stopped at a streetlight and lo before I could utter any words I felt huge hands around my throat I could only manage a strangled cry and bam my gold necklace and pendant where torn off my neck.

My first reaction was to laugh out loud, my colleague was astonished and kept asking if I was alright. I was more than ok, I was relieved that my neck was not a chopping board for some sickos knife. And like I consoled myself it could happen anywhere even in Lagos! This place is not so bad but everyone seems to be on the edge even those supposed to be in charge of security. I tell you whenever I see some policeman or any member of the armed forces on the road my heart skips a beat. They hold their guns so carelessly. Only yesterday while walking to the busstop escorted by one of the drivers a member of MOPOL swung his gun through the window of a taxi because the taxidriver would not stop. For one moment I thought the policeman would shoot. The ferocious way he swung his gun you would think he was attacking a criminal but this was just a taximan trying to earn an honest living and trying not to pay an unlawful tax to a thief!

The other incident that probably completed by inclusion into the fraternity of people who live and work in the NIger Delta was a few months ago. I was going to work and as is usaul with the commercial bus drivers, the bus I was in almost hit another car in a bid to move ahead. The other driver swung out of his vehicle and pushed his face into that of our driver. In a split second, he had put a gun to the drivers head. My thought immediately turned to my own life, in that split second I had already imagined the trajectory of the bullet(s). I was sitting at an angle to the driver and I knew that if he was shot a bullet could knock me down also:) Talk about morbid thoughts. The other thing that suprised me was that I was the only passenger who shouted out more like screamed. I was stunned where they too placid about their lives, I wasnt. In retrospect I guess they knew the man wasnt going to shoot, I was too fresh from Lagos to realise that.

Another day I saw a police van on the streets with a suspect handcuffed to the poles at the back of the vehicle hanging outside the van, his feet narrowly missing the rolling tyres. I was horrified, the poor man yelled out for mercy but the van moved on. I frequently have a hard time squelching the rising waves of anger when I meet these so called security agents because Im a little coward? I dont want to end up in an early grave but also because I have been angry for good reason at some thieving police officers and all I got was a warning to leave or else I'd be marched down to their station. Since I was far away from home and knew that the long legs I knew in lagos would be of little consequence there I beat a hasty retreat but not after getting the okada man I was with not to part with a dime.

Forgive my labellings but I dont know what else to label these men in black whose actions leave much to be desired! I remember finding out that a friends ex boyfriend was a policeman, her look of suprise at my outburst that I would not have gone for her wedding showed me what bitterness my heart harbours for these so called security agents who are supposed to maintain the peace but add to the chaos in an already chaotic society!

I started off talking about armed robbers and I ended up talking about a different kind of bandits. I treasure the day when I can go to work and bump into an 'olopa' and not have to pray for protection from stray bullets. Amin!