I woke up with enthusiasm and my usual daily hope of new positive development in my place of work that Monday morning. It has been close to six months now without salary, but the love for the job and the zeal to get out from home and do something pushed me out of bed, to prepare for the day.
I was actually on my way to the bathroom when I heard the news that the state government had placed a twenty-four- hour curfew across the state due to the current unexpected presidential post-election violence that started the previous day. I was dumbfounded and suddenly felt so bad and sad. I was really mad with the people who might have started the whole thing, including the system that allowed it to happen in the first place.
Having experienced the unfortunate 2000 crisis, I shook my head sadly, with a dread of what might follow across the state. I knew deep inside me that some fanatics and unpatriotic people would quickly capitalize on this to loot, maim and kill innocent people across the unguwas and slums that adorn the state. I was certain that the skirmish wouldn’t get closer to the G.R.A and the other elite dominated areas. But the mini war would definitely rage more furiously in the ghettos and slums around us, where uninformed, hungry and angry supporters would unleash terror on each other.
True to my thinking and calculation, I suddenly heard loud noise of youths outside my temporary safe abode, and not wanting to be taken unawares I hurriedly put on some clothing and rushed outside to see what was going on. The first thing I noticed was the thick shape of smoke in the sky and the noisy excited chants of a group of children in their early teens and twenty, protesting loudly over what they said was injustice and the stealing of their votes. Then their cult like chant of “ Sai Buhari, Sai mai-gaskiya, sai Baba!... and Buhari muke so.”
Then the news started filtering in from all angles, as unconfirmed stories of fighting and killings in some part of the state flew around and everyone suddenly became wary and suspicious of what was happening. I noticed that parents were rushing to get their children from schools, and vehicles were racing towards home with confused and scared passengers. There seems to be confusion everywhere as the group of children marched on towards an unknown destination, with few of them on bikes riding madly and pulling some crazy stunts to intimidate those who had remained around to watch.
Few minutes later, the men in uniform stepped in, brandishing their guns and whips and ordered every civilian around to get into their houses. Thus began our journey under siege, hunger and frustration. A journey I have always dreaded and hated with passion. I hate anything that would curtail my freedom of expression and freedom to move at any time of the day. I had always prayed against a curfew or curtailing of movement, since the barbaric slaughtering of the year 2000, and had thought people might have learnt their lessons from the unfortunate incident. But here we were again, forced to stay indoors like prisoners and threatened with guns and whips by our fellow human beings and citizens in uniform.
The first three days were some of the most horrifying three days I had ever experienced. With hunger and lack of essential commodities, most people felt the impact of the 24- hour curfew and many souls were almost at the point of breaking down. You could smell and see hunger in the faces of most folks and those with little supplies got it at exorbitant prices. It was as if another civil war had broken out in the country and people were hungry and praying for the carnage to come to an end. Funny enough the various religious leaders who had hitherto been using our various places of worship to preach politics, segregation and division, suddenly went undercover while their followers got caught up in the mayhem, with many of them losing their lives and property.
It was quite an experience and it was not surprising that the people rushed out and invaded the markets and shops when the authorities felt it safe to relax the curfew by few hours three days later. They all came out, mingling freely, irrespective of religious, tribe and political inclination. They bought and sold goods to each other and openly discussed the madness that took over the state. I watched some group of Christians and Muslims, including PDP and CPC supporters, as they gathered to discuss the carnage, with some of them laughing as if nothing had happened.
I was amazed at the attitude of the ordinary Nigerians as they have failed to learn anything from the numerous cheap fighting the politicians and elite have always instigated them into. I felt so bad that the poor man and his struggling family have always been the ones at the receiving end in times of crisis like this, yet they will never learn to say no to the inciting voice of the politicians who are never seen or heard when trouble rears its head. I felt so disappointed and betrayed that no one politician came out in my area to assist their so-called supporters with foodstuff and other sustainable eatables during the tough days of the curfew, as they do during their self-centred campaigns, with cheap bar of soaps, antapa, mudu of rice, maize and other cheap inducing materials.
As I write you this story, we the civilians are all still under siege in all parts of our purported ‘Centre of Learning’, though the curfew hours have been further reduced and life is slowly returning to normal, but I must confess that nothing so far is as sweet and desirable as my curtailed freedom of movement.
END
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