“I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

The police are your friend. Well, at least that’s what every Nigrian is told, however, I can confidently tell you that the police can indeed be your friend, as well as your enemy, depending on how good your luck is should you run into them. For me however, I think I’m a pretty lucky fellow.

Whenever you hear stories of police brutality in Nigeria, particularly if you are a young person, there’s this inescapable discomfort you feel, a badgering apprehension that virtually puts you in the shoes of the victim. But I can tell you first hand that the fear you feel when you hear these stories pale in comparison to the absolute dread you experience if you find yourself in such a situation. I know this first hand.

My ordeal with the police, which unfortunately is forever ingrained in my memory, starts on a fairly typical Tuesday. The day had begun great, and it really was everything you would expect of a lovely day. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, everyone in the family was doing great, work was smooth, and my biggest problem that day really was what to have for breakfast. I eventually ate nothing that morning, as staying up till about 3 am had caused me to wake up late. I hurried out to beat the traffic, keeping in mind my perfect punctuality record at work.

It was barely 7 am as I drove past the last bus stop to my office, it was some 14km from my house, I looked out my window and saw two scrawny looking men with machine guns carelessly dangling from their hands. At first my heart skipped a beat, but the calmness with which everyone else went about their day, made me realise that these men are probably not a public threat, matter of fact, on closer inspection, I discovered that they were actually police officers.

However, the way they appeared was nothing you would expect from law enforcement agents, instead, they looked like the vigilante boys of old, you know the ones depicted in those over-glorified vigilante movies, where they tried to paint local vigilantes as superheroes, no bullet penetrates them and they have the ability to sense evil by literally looking into your soul and discovering all the evil you’ve done in your life.

These guys however, seemed to have none of those qualities, just men who looked really out of shape and un-kept. I tried to drive around the roadblock they had erected before they spotted me. One of them waved at me, signaling me to stop my car, and I did as a law abiding citizen.

He asked me to roll down my window, and I did. “Good Morning Officer,” I said, as I watched two of his colleagues approach my car. “How may I help you?” I asked, making sure to use an accent that denoted intelligence.

“Yes, good morning,” One of the officers said “May we know you?”

“Gladly,” I responded, after which I introduced myself, told them where I worked and gave them my ID card for more clarification. “Anything else sir?” I concluded. The man handed me back my card. 

“We need more young men like you, Mr… Americana,” he said before he and his colleagues released me.

“Thank you officer Jide.” I responded after I had spotted his name on his tag. The man surprisingly flashed a warm smile my way, almost like saying his name touched a softer side of the man. The same could not be said for the rest of his team though, as they all wore scowls. He waved me goodbye and I waved back immediately driving off.

It was pretty uneventful contrary to the stories I constantly hear. I told you I was pretty lucky.

People often tell of how these men would stop and harass any young person with a car, a fancy phone or outfit, bold hairstyles and or tattoos. But here I was, I had all those qualities except tattoos, and they didn’t even bat an eye. Maybe they were not as bad as the story’s claim, and young Nigerians too rebellious, I thought.

I got to work that day, and asides the AC in my workstation getting faulty, the day was pretty routine. I handled the tasks I had set out to handle and was just about leaving when my phone began to ring, reluctant to answer the call, I slowly diverted my eyes towards my phone as I parked my bag, lo and behold the caller ID that appeared seemed to lift my already exhausted spirit, it was Chidera, and she wanted to know if we could go grab a bite. 

Of course, I wasn’t going to say no, I’ve basically been begging for a date with this damsel for weeks, and here she was offering me one on a silver platter. I packed up and quickly rushed to go pick her up. After a few minutes on the road, we found an interesting spot to hangout.

We had a good time, and in an attempt to elongate that time, I offered to drive her to her house. I did just that with very little challenge, and the hug and smile I got in return made it all worth it, that is of course until I found myself stuck in traffic for 5 hours on my way back home. 

After many hours of experiencing some symptoms of midlife crises brought about by the madness of traffic, I looked at the time and it read 10:37 pm which made me further question my sanity and if I had really been on the road for five hours without covering half the distance to my destination, which without this type of alien traffic would take me somewhere around 45 minutes.

20 minutes later and I hit my breaking point. I couldn’t take it anymore especially considering that I had to be in my estate before 12, that’s when the estate security usually locks the gates. I decided to park my car in a safe spot at an empty driveway on the side of the road, to maybe find a bike that could take me straight to my house.

I parked the car safely and began heading for the nearest bus stop, the same one that is closest to my office, it was about five minutes away on foot from where I had parked, but I was semi sure I would find a bike there, I always see a lot of them there in the morning, so I figured some of them may still be hovering around there at this time, I was wrong. 

I got to the bus stop and found absolutely no one, let alone a bike, even the police men stationed there were gone, the place was as silent as a graveyard, not a single soul present. Frightened, I began contemplating going back to my car and waiting this traffic out, or waiting to see if a bike would show up. I choose the latter, a terrible, terrible decision. 

After about twenty minutes of standing there and waiting in the dark,  I decided to head back to my car, by now I knew I couldn’t make it back to my estate whether by bike or car, so I decided just waiting out the traffic and lodging in the nearest hotel I found.

I began walking back to my car, the street, emptier than it was just a few moments ago, so empty in fact I could hear clearly the echo of my own breathing. I hurried my footsteps, each passing second more nerve racking than the last, I felt this lingering presence, stalking me, its aura as close to me as the cool breeze brushing on the back of my neck, I could almost feel it fighting to slow me down, but I only picked up the pace. I got back to my car and breathed a sigh of relief.

Before I could unlock my car door, a hand grabbed me from behind, startled, I jerked frantically, almost dropping my key, all in the space of a split second, my heart racing as I turned around to meet chance face to face. 

By now, the traffic had cleared up and cars were simply zooming past. I turned to see who’s hand was on me, and the face I saw almost sent my heart out my chest. There was nothing particularly frightening about the man, except a feeling of hostility, and a gun in his hands.

He eyed me up and down, before asking what I was doing there. “I want to get into my car and go home,” I said. He sized me up again. “Who are you, sir?” I inquired even after noticing the police tag on his shirt. 

“I am an officer of the law.” He responded. “Na you get this car?” He asked, and I didn’t quite like his tone, I’m not exactly sure what he was implying, but I had to put my emotions in check before I responded to him.

“Yes, this is my car.”

“So what are you doing here by this time?” He asked. I explained my ordeal to him, but the look on his face made it clear that he was neither listening nor interested. He had seen a young man, trying to enter a parked car at the shady car park on the side of the road, and I’m sure all sorts of theories must have been running through his mind, especially since my story sounded ridiculous, even to me, now that I had narrated it out loud.

“Follow me!” He insisted, relentlessly fixing his gaze on mine. His senses seemingly so sharp and alert, I knew even a wrong step would propel him to flight or fight. Regardless I felt the need to understand the situation I was in, cause I too, more than even the officer was in danger.

“What is the problem?” I asked, a lot of fear obvious from my body language. 

“Young man, just respect yourself and follow me.” I followed, knowing that arguing otherwise could earn me a shot, he was the one with the gun after all. I was alive in control, and innocent, and this was all I needed for the moment.

I let him lead me to wherever and finally I found myself in the company of his peers, all four of them. 

Before they could utter a word, I resounded a confident ‘good evening sirs’. I made sure again to exaggerate eloquence in my diction. All of them shared a gaze with each other, before turning back to me. The more stout one among them spoke.

“Yes may we know you?”

I told them who I was, and the circumstances that had led to me being here, but like their colleague earlier, they didn’t seem to believe me or care, not like it would have mattered anyway. I was already in their clutches, and I’m sure the only thing of interest to them was how they were going to exploit the situation.

I’m no child, I knew this, but the mystery remained how much of me they would be stealing. 

I also explained that I needed to be in my estate in the next 17 minutes, but this too was of little concern to them, they simply told me to enter their bus. 

I asked what my crime was and they responded with a slap. I got the message and entered. There I saw two other young men looking like they were sorry to even exist. I sat in the bus for over an hour without the men even as much as saying a word to me, they just stood outside whispering amongst themselves.

Finally, at around 1 am, all four of them entered the bus two behind, one beside and one in the driver’s seat, and they began driving us to GOD knows where. 

I’m pretty conversant with this part of Lagos but I was completely unfamiliar with where they were taking us, all I knew was how terrified I was at the rustling sound of the bushes we sped past and how dreaded my fate at the moment seemed. I was at their mercy and we all knew it, what I didn’t know was how lucky I was going to be that day.

PS: This account is a work of fiction, inspired by real life encounters with impudent police officers.