The Man in the Blackmaria

It was the morning of December the 6th 2009; one of those Saturdays that staying indoors makes more sense than keeping the time on the streets of Lagos. My feelings were right, but the week was tactful, having stretched my vehicle to its limit covering hundreds of kilo-meters in the week, the mechanical stress was evident, it shows in its performance. I needed to change the shaft, I said to myself, before it gives way in the middle of nowhere; given to this fear, I hit the road in the hope to find my mechanic so as to have it repaired. My schedule was set and I felt at most before dusk I’d return home, at first I got to a spare-parts store along the way, fixed my headlamps  before getting to the mechanic workshop.  It went well, with money in my pockets getting the car fixed should not be problem, I knew money speaks and getting some good hands fix-up the ailing mechanical fault requires the right expertise. I had a list of mechanics around my area to do just that, yet within the profile I needed the very meticulous one, immediately my mind went to Lucky...Lucky will do the job well, I mused. To get Lucky, I negotiated my way to Olowu in Ikeja, a suburb of Lagos known for its parade of auto spare parts; quick service auto-mechanics and a beehive of activities were predominantly the business-centered easterners had their footing. Lucky, is in 30s, about 6ft 1inches tall, very well built, soft-spoken and a very detailed man; I was convinced that getting him to do the job will save me the committed cash I had to put into it. He, having discovered a malignant problem in my car at some time, of which up on till that time I have been  swindled by the 'trial-by-error' auto-mechanics whose competencies are updated by creating more problems. I felt in my guts, my choice was right to come this way.

The sun was at its zenith, to get myself cool, I hid under the umbrella while the Lucky sweat himself out to get the car repaired. The first phase was fast, it took about an hour, I felt  at this speed the possibility of finishing at the most  2pm is most likely and for me to be back at am back home will be much more sooner (or so I thought). In the midst of the business frenzy at Olowu, my attention was drawn to two men who walked past my vehicle, their faces where fierce; but from their dressing they looked respectable, one was dark in complexion, perhaps in is 40s, the second fair in complexion about the same age range; they both shared the same pot-belly size - one of the signatures of a government official. My mind quickly opened to my immediate environment and a mile way a view of four trucks heavily loaded with men (some women) in green tops with black pants looking determined and ferocious, (for sure they represented the subjects of the pot-bellied men I saw earlier). They were KAI (Kick  Against Indiscipline) people, they are here to raid the market! Suddenly in a flash, the once peaceful market place turned into a myriad of complete disorder. From all angles everyone started scrambling for safety and shielding away their trade from the KAI men as the whole place resulted into more confusion. Catch him! Put him in the Black Maria! Take them to Alausa! Raid them! Don't let them go! You go there I go here! Rented the atmosphere, as though it there was war. There I was standing by my car, with the umbrella clenched in my fist, I see Lucky rise to is feet in a jiffy, in my unconscious state still trying to figure out what is happening, I call to him pick his tools! Pick your tools! Put it in the trunk!

I heard all manner of noise and shouting aroud me, as the KAI men advance their way into the fabric of the business area vehemently, they were coming my way. In their advance, I see the pot-bellied men call to his subjects, “Who is that man over there? Take him! Take him into the truck! Then, I spoke aloud against  the offensive and the fierce command, and I retorted-“I am not a mechanic, I came here to repair my car, I don’t sell anything! I don’t have any business here! I thought, the raid was only for the market people, but in this raid everyone is a culprit, an offender and a victim.  One of the men in a defiant tone shouted-“Take him! Take him to Alausa!” Before the order, hit my thoughts, three men swarmed on me like bees, grabbing and forcefully dragging towards their truck. “Move!” they shouted. Calmly I said “you don't need to man-handle me, I will move in your direction”. With my umbrella still in my hands, I was pushed into the back of a van amidst a lot of men packed on another. One of them at the entrance (a woman) shouted on one of the victims –“Lap him! Sit on him!” - With a push we all immediately got compressed in the van like sardines.

While still in the van, I spoke with the woman, “I am not a mechanic, or market person what’s all this about?”  She asked and queried sharply, “where is your ID Card?” “It’s in my car”, I replied. Then she let me down to get it, in the company of two of her colleagues, both holding on to me tightly, (as though to prevent any thought that may crop-up in my mind to run or escape). I opened my car, got my ID card, with the thought that at least this will get these men of my back and let me off, but that would not happen. As I waved it high for them to see, the dark complexioned man (whom they call the Director), sighted me again in the presence of the fair-complexioned man, and I Said – “I am not  a mechanic , this is my ID Card, I am staff of ---- and I pay my taxes”.  Then he said: “this no tax issue!” and the director gave a shout; “I thought I said you should take that man! Take Him! Put him in the Black Maria! blackmaria!” Then, I froze. “Move, I say!”  With my umbrella still in my hands, the gate keeper shouted: “you cannot go in with that!” Suddenly the gate of the blackmaria flung open and into its mouth I found myself- shut-out of the world, shut-out of life. At that very instant I lost my power, I lost my freedom.

Have been held against my will, with no charge, in a democratic country, I have been overwhelmed by the odds, banged up in a vehicle for criminals, my soul could not but race faster. To my amazement I discovered I still had my life-line with me - my phone.  Make calls out to my family cycles. Then the motion began, at every stop, I could hear shouts and tumultuous fights of resistance taking place outside. In the narrow way of the blackmaria, I see men been pushed and beaten into submission to enter into the vehicle. The blackmaria as it is famously known is a two-compartment, all-round metal frame truck, fitted with about a square-feet opening for ventilation and sunlight, with a metallic seat and a latrine. It is a make-shift vehicle for the purpose of conveying convicted criminals to and out of any location.  As more people were bundled in, the temperature in the vehicle rose very fast, the confinement was horrendous, visibility was poor and the stench from latrine doused the air space. In frantic effort, everyone began to make a phone call to all they knew, while looking through the tiny openings to a life they have just been yanked away from. As I cluster into my space, my attention was drawn to a man shouting to anyone who cares to listen that he is a police man saying he definitely would not take this nonsense from a KAI official. "I just came to repair my vehicle, why are mine in this place?!...I am the one that fix my bosses vehicle" He shouted aloud. No sooner I stood to my feet, I could see we are heading to Alausa in a convoy, and some mixed feeling shrouded my mind.

We had arrived the KAI yard in less than 30 minutes (The KAI yard is just overlooking the Lagos state government secretariat), as we came down one after the other from the blackmaria, I could sense a wild jubilation among the KAI soldiers and their other compatriots ravaging the spoils of their outing. As I made my way down from the truck, my eyes caught a man in the other adjoining section of the vehicle, his pant was by his knees, revealing is underwear, being half torn, I could see is genitals, he appeared fagged out and without strength (apparently a struggle must have ensued between him and the KAI soldiers till he surrendered), as he hit the floor he collapsed. While on the last step the fair-complexioned man beckoned at me to move aside while the others numbering over 20 moved the other way. Been alone I could see the entire section of the yard and immediately I sense the hierarchy, knowing full well those who are at the highest echelons of command. I had called my wife to intimate her of where I was, she was already on her way and I felt the story would change when she comes in. While still basking in my thought I heard a faint cry: “my phone, my money.” It was the collapsed man crying out. He still had is genital exposed and no one cared to find out what the problem was with him, but to my dismay  I saw one of the KAI officials go towards him,  grabbed is genital and made a joke. I was furious, and I rebuked him vehemently “why will you do such a thing, can’t you see the man is down, this inhuman!  This is not right, this is wrong!”  Immediately, I could feel the chill and quietness envelope the yard as they officials wondered who was speaking. In the bid to quickly dismiss, and cover up the KAI official actions, one of the officer approached me and said: “you do not need fight for the man on the floor, fight for yourself and how you will get out of here, that should be your concern, not the man on the floor, we see this type of things every day, he is a second-offender, don’t mind him he is pretending, he will be on his feet in no time.”

Things did not just feel right about this place; people were paraded and threats of ending up in the gulags of Kikikiri Maximum Prison kept them in check and submission to the givings of the officials. With all manner of wares and consumer goods confiscated, littering the entire place, (perhaps it stands as an evidence), there is no sign that the people caught would have theirs properties returned to them if and whenever they leave the yard. With so much force and intimidation employed all the in name of maintaining discipline in the society, it appears there is no end in sight to the extent with which these men would result into physical assault in the aim to meet their goals . In the midst of all this, two of the officials approached me, they spoke into letting me go, but my eyes and thoughts did not leave the man who lied naked on the floor and the others who did not have as much privilege of education like I do or connection like the police man who was let go as soon as we arrived the yard. Definitely things may get much more messier for them.

As I walked out of the yard, my mind juggled many questions:  who regulates and checks the excesses of these KAI officials? Who set the limits of their high-handedness and their barbaric style of apprehension?  Do they have any medical team just in case someone slumps from their raid and physical assault? At what point is carrying out orders becoming a free access to dehumanization, public disorder, oppression and suppression? As the saying goes, "you probably would not feel pain as much as the person who is wallowing in that pain". But, whenever you have the chance to take stand for someone else who is pain or in precarious situation, do the best to make your voice heard, that action would probably save a life and set an alert to the consciousness of those who in the process of discharging their duties also demean the essence of freedom, and human right.