“I know the police cause you
trouble. They cause trouble
everywhere. But when you die
and go to heaven, you find no
policeman there” – Woody
Guthrie
“When you have police officers
who abuse citizens, you erode
public confidence in law
enforcement. That makes the
job of good police officers
unsafe” – Mary Frances Berry


Let the title of this article
not deceive anyone. My first
visit! It wasn’t an excursion
neither was it a social visit to
the police station. I sleep 4
sanko , walahi ! And I swear,
it was my only visit there. Not
twice. Not thrice. Just once!
It’s nothing to be proud of.
But honestly, back then, I felt
like a rapper thrown into jail.
The hood loved me. More
street guys paid respects to
me. I walked around the area
with a swagger. I got free
booze because I didn’t snitch
on people at the station. I also
got free akara balls from
Mama Chikezie after I was
released.
It was the 10th day of
January, 2003. It was a Friday.
I had just showed up from the
village after the Xmas holidays.
The nation felt good. I felt
good. Everyone in the area felt
good too except Chikwe, whose
car was vandalized a couple of
weeks earlier. Okpolo had just
won 30 grand at the polling
house and planned to purchase
a new motorcycle. Ebere
recently gave birth to a
bouncing baby girl. One could
literally term my hood the
‘Feel Good Boulevard’.
Everyone felt good, I reiterate.
In the evening, I decided I
needed a new haircut. But I
was dead broke. Broke already
in the New Year? Of course na.
Money wey I waste for Xmas,
no be small o. So I got 100
bucks from my neighbor and
promised to pay back in a
week.
Walking to the barber’s
shop, I never envisioned the
evil that would befall me. If I
knew, I would have stayed
back to watch the F.A. Cup
match going on at a viewing
center nearby. But I needed
this new haircut so I had to go.
Upon arriving at the barber’s, I
hailed guys around the place.
Now this particular shop was
notorious for having a
gambling spot in front of it,
owned and run by the barber
himself. People usually gather
around the large billiard table,
staking cash, jewelry and any
item that could be staked.
Surprisingly on this particular
day, I discovered that there
were only a handful of men
surrounding the table.
Somewhere not too far away,
people gathered around in a
circle, shooting dice. I went
close by and beheld my
neighbor, Izu.“O boi, how far?
Na here e dey happen now?”, I
inquired. “Baruu the king, how
far? Na here e dey happen, my
brother. Na here o”, Izu
replied. “Why una run comot
from David snooker table na?”,
I asked. “O boi, this dice game
dey easier o. This one na quick
cash. Just throw dice for
ground, u don make moni be
dat.Nobody wan stay for two
hours dey play snooker. At the
end, na only small money u go
make. Na one sharp guy start
this one o. I hear say David sef
don dey vex say men no dey
show again for him snooker
table. But nobody send am.
Him don make many money.
Make him go rest joor”, Izu
explained.
I thought briefly about what
he said. There was a little bit
of frankness in what he just
said. I stared at the 100bucks I
came with. As usual, impious
thoughts took over me. They
say when the gods want to
kill a king, they first make
him mad . I finally
decided to shoot dice with my
100bucks at stake. E no
matter, I thought to myself.
After all, if I lose the
100bucks, nothing spoil! I go
still cut my hair later. Now,
that’s the devil at work.
I shot the double dice. Lo
and behold, I got a 6 and a 5.
Men hailed me. Five other
guys shot the double dice
when their respective turns
reached. I got the highest
combination. Gracious Lord, I
just made me an extra
500bucks. Izu was very happy.
He encouraged me to try a
second time, this time
increasing my stake. Izu is
surely the devil’s vessel, I
thought.
Alright then, I decided to try a
second time. My stake was
200bucks. Lo and behold, for
the second time in a row, I
chop all man money. Kai, this
one better pass snooker joor.
I tried a third time. But this
time around, I staked 500bucks
and lost it. “Baruu, try again
and get back your lost bounty”,
said the devil to me. I
hearkened to his voice, that
ancient serpent.
As we waited patiently for
the fourth person to shoot the
double dice, men started
running helter skelter. It was
as if a demon was unleashed
amongst us. I felt two hands
grab me from behind. At that
moment, I saw some plain-
clothed men running after my
co-gamblers. “ Ekelebe atu o
down oh, ekelebe o ”, shouted
young men scurrying to safety.
I was unfortunate to be
backing the main road, so I
didn’t see them coming. Two
more cops joined my captor.
“We don catch their leader”,
one exclaimed. They mistook
me for the owner of the joint
because I was huge and bigger
than everyone. Or so I thought.
They captured four of us and
bundled us into the bus
waiting by the roadside. They
kept me in the front seat with
a policeman beside me. He had
a gun. And so began the
journey to that dreaded city;
the journey to the police
station. Okoro’s son was
sobbing softly at the back. I
felt pity for him; his dad was a
retired technician. I wondered
how he would be able to raise
the bail money. I stared out of
the window and wondered
what went wrong. How could
the cops raid this new joint? I
had the answer. Someone has
snitched. David was the rat!
At the station, we were
taken to the interrogation
room and kept separately. An
officer was assigned to each of
us to take down our
statements. I saw Ekene at the
other end telling the officer he
didn’t do anything. He refused
to sign the statement the cops
had already prepared. He said
what they wrote down there
wasn’t what he did and as
such, won’t sign the document.
I saw the officer bring out an
object tied around his waist. It
was a whip. And with it, he
gave Ekene the lashing of his
life. No one told him to sign
the document quickly. I turned
around and stared at the
officer assigned to me. He had
a wry smile on his lips. He
gave me a pen. I didn’t
hesitate to sign the document
after I saw he had a whip tied
around his waist also.
Afterwards, we were made
to remove our clothes and
belongings. We only had our
shorts and briefs on. Before
then, I saw my fellow
‘prisoners’ exchanging money.
Ekene gave the guy with an
afro 5obucks. He had120 naira
left. Okoro’s son begged him to
give him 20bucks and he
obliged. Immediately, we were
taken to the cells.
There were two cells; a big
one and a smaller one. There
were around 9 or 10 inmates in
the big one. They were
screaming and banging their
fists against the iron bars,
asking for ‘fresh meat’. Wisely,
I withdrew to the back. The
first two guys – Okoro’s son
and the guy with an afro –
were pushed into the big cell.
There was no room to
exchange pleasantries. Hot
slaps landed on their faces,
followed by severe beatings. I
made a sign of the cross. But I
didn’t know what would befall
me in the smaller cell.
We were calmly shoved into
the small cell. It smelled of
urine and weed mixed
together. On the walls were
scribbled different words and a
picture of Fela was on the east
end of the room with the
words “Kalakuta Republik”
written on top of the picture.
There were five guys in the
room plus an elderly man who
lay on the floor. He had grey
unkempt beards and wore a
red cardigan. Ekene wasted no
time; he quickly brought out
the 100bucks he had on him
and handed it over to the
chairman. “Na 100 naira u
bring come for us? U hear say
na begger dem full cell? Boys,
make una begin am”, the
chairman shouted. I had to
stand and watch in horror as
the other four beat up Ekene.
After a couple of minutes, it
was my turn. Immediately, I
sensed an overwhelming power
overtake me. It was like the
spirit came over me. I quickly
fell on my knees and with
arms stretched out wide, I
pleaded with the chairman
that I had no money on me. I
told him I was an innocent guy
who sold recharge cards when
the cops picked me up. My
pleas fell on deaf ears as I had
to go through a thorough body
search, followed by candle wax
poured on my bare back and
an extra few minutes of
beating and battering before
they left me alone. I promised
heaven and earth. I told them I
would make sure I got some
cash from my relatives (when
they come to bail me) and
hand it over to them.
Eventually, kalakuta republik
became calm again.
We all struck up a
friendship. Each inmate told
tales of their struggles. They
all were normal hustlers. One
inmate had a weed farm and
sold the product to support his
parents, five siblings and a
grandmother. He wondered
why his 90year old granny was
still alive while he lost one
sibling a year ago. “I swear,
that women na witch wey dey
suck children blood”, he said.
We all laughed at the silly
joke. All the while, the old
man lay on the floor,
motionless. The chairman
assured us he wasn’t dead. We
all smoked some joint
together. We all felt like
victims of the system; victims
of police brutality.
At about 11pm, I heard an
officer call my name. I stood
up abruptly. He came towards
our cell with a bunch of keys
and opened the cell door.
“Your people don show. Comot
make you dey waka”, he
exclaimed. I felt relieved. “Hey
you, remember our agreement
o. Just bring my dough”, the
chairman said. Evil man, I
thought to myself. I thought he
had slept off. This guy head
strong o. After two wraps of
kpoli the guy eye still clear. I
promised him I would be back
with the cash once I reached
the counter. I left the cage and
walked towards our lawyer,
mother and elder brother.
They were standing at the
other end of the counter.
Mumsie gave me a stern look.
I didn’t care. I didn’t give a
phuck. All that mattered was
that I was finally out.
These days, whenever I am
in an unholy place or an
unholy situation, I am always
on the lookout for cops; those
evil beings and harbingers of
doom for young men seeking
whom to devour. They won’t
catch me again, I’ve sworn.
The snare of the fowler shall
not behold me again. Na so!