The telephone call came in the middle of the night, rousing me rudely from a deep and exciting sleep. I had slept very early the previous day having had a very exhausting afternoon. As a routine, I had ensured that my mobile phones were put in the silent mode. But on the fateful night, I had forgotten to change the tone. So, when the stringent Nokia tune broke the eerie silence of the night, I cursed under my breath. As I fumbled around in the Power Holding Company of Nigeria-induced darkness, I had wondered who could be calling at that ungodly hour. In my drowsy state, I answered the call. Then, I recognised the voice at the other end to be that of a neighbour. He frantically told me he had been arrested by the police for wandering while returning from work.
Continue after the break.
According to him, he was standing with other commuters at a bus stop when a police patrol truck screeched to halt in front of the bus station. They were standing in an endless wait for a bus. In a flash, gun-totting policemen alighted and ordered them at gun point to enter the back of the truck. Inside, he met other victims of the brutality that has come to define the Nigerian Police. He said that out of fright, some of them attempted to flee. But the police threatened to shoot them. They were all taken to the police station amid pleas of innocence. I had known the young man for over a year. I know him to be a struggling young man who worked as an unskilled hand in a Chinese factory around town. I knew he kept late nights due to the nature of his job. He also worked shifts. This makes him arrive home at odd hours. When the call came, I did not doubt the veracity of his story.
According to him, at the time of their arrest, the policemen also made several arrests along the way. Then, they drove to a secluded area where they stopped their vehicle. Then, they went into a round of negotiation with the suspects. They told those who had money to bail themselves. Those who could afford their charges were quickly left off the hook. One guy with an expensive wrist watch was said to have traded it for his freedom. But other unlucky victims like my neighbour who had only their transport fares were driven, like condemned criminals, to the cell. There, the officers encouraged them to call their relatives. The other option was to be clamped into the dingy cell where they would spend the night until they are bailed the next morning.
By the time he hung up the phone, I had become fully awake and disturbed. Knowing the antecedents of the Nigerian Police, I was worried that the boy could either be shot as an ‘’escapee’’ armed robber or framed up on trumped up charges. Just like many unlucky Nigerians, he might also end up being charged for a crime he knew nothing about and clamped in jail or awaiting trial. I was also upset at this gross violation of an innocent citizen’s right- a clear case of police brutality. The police are known for indiscriminate arrests of people under a so-called wandering law which has been abolished. But some unscrupulous officers in Lagos still engage in the illegal act. This random arrest is widely known as ‘’roger”. They often carry out the arrest in low income areas. Their targets are poor and defenceless citizens who have neither the financial nor social connections to defend their rights. This action, which has been condemned by Nigerians, amounts to the breach of people’s freedom of movement.
That said, I instantly made a decision to go to the police station in spite of the risk involved. First, because it was too late in the day and the fear of being brutalised by renegade officers was real. However, I thought that was the least I could do for this humble and hardworking young man. I roused another neighbour and we both went to the police station together. The scene I met at the station was shocking. Scores of unclad young men and women sat on bare floor speaking frantically on the phone. They were calling their families so as to avoid being hurled into the cell. Another shocker: I overheard policemen offering to help those arrested to buy call cards so they could contact their relatives! One policeman, who seemed to be the one coordinating the show of shame, bellowed at a young man who had all the while been protesting his innocence: “You, this stupid boy, you think na only you fit speak grammar, abi? You go sleep for cell today, mosquito go finish you. Stay there dey blow grammar make you no call your people. You go die for cell”! I observed a young woman making brisk business selling call cards at the gate. Even at that time of the night!
The station was a beehive of activities. As I made my way among the throng of men and women sitting on bare ground even outside the large compound, I spotted a patrol truck screech to a dusty halt at the entrance of the main building. A number of policemen alighted, cigarettes dangled between their lips, and their guns facing the sky. They looked like drunken pirates. Another set of ‘’suspects’’, both young and old were pushed down from the vehicle and forced to join those waiting at the counter. I soon located my neighbour who was visibly relieved having caught sight of me. I told him to calm down as I was determined to push my luck with those brigands called policemen in Lagos who are constantly breaching the fundamental human rights of poor residents. I approached the Investigating Police Officer and asked to see the Divisional Police Officer.
He demanded that I identify myself. I declined, insisting I would only identify myself to the DPO. He became alarmed and went to consult with the Commander of the Patrol that had arrested my neighbour. In Lagos, bravado and self-confidence if properly used with the police could work in your favour. I was told the DPO was not available. I disclosed to them that my neighbour, who was coming back from work, was arrested in error and demanded his release so he could go back home with me. I insisted he’d be released without any charges or I would wait till the DPO returns. The police officer in charge hesitated for a while. He did not know what to make of the situation. He was not sure how connected I was. I thought I saw hesitation in his eyes! Did they panic knowing they could have had the wrong man? Since they could not explain why the young man was arrested. I stuck to my guns and demanded his release.
The officer later backed down
He told me to identify the “suspect” among the lot. I insisted he was not a suspect as he had done nothing wrong. He was released to me without bail even as I observed money exchanging hands between families of those arrested illegally. It was shocking to see these glaring abuses of people’s rights which have become a norm at various police stations across Lagos.
Why would police officers on patrol arrest residents at will even when they have identified themselves as law abiding citizens? How does returning from work constitute an offence of wandering? Why do the police physically abuse innocent people, kicking and slapping them as I observed in the police station that night? My neighbour told me the officers refused to show their identification cards. One drunken officer even threatened to shoot if they continued the protest. I walked away from the station feeling a sense of anger.
With friends like the police, who needs an enemy?
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