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My First Day Experience In O.a.u The Day We Started Lectures. (2) (3) (4)
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My Election Day Experience by Nobody: 7:23am On Jun 12, 2015 |
STILL AS A GRAVEYARD (MY ELECTION DAY EXPERIENCE) Pt 1 The dew still carpeted the green shrubs while the sun had started opening its eyes when I stepped out of my compound. My mission was simple yet spiced with a dint of uncertainty. Like most Nigerians, I wanted to exercise my franchise. As I stepped into the streets leading to Okpanam Road, Asaba where I would board a 'keke', a spiral of silence circled the once-busy area! I could count the number of "keke"' cars and people on the road. They could pass for the number of trees in a desert. Luckily for me, I saw a 'keke', flagged it down and hopped in. While we meandered through the roads and streets leading to Ibusa junction, the ever-busy heart of Delta's capital left none in doubt that a historical landmark in Nigeria, was taking place. The loaves of bread that could pass for the height of Berlin wall, had suddenly collapsed. The gala and sweating bottled drinks balanced on hawkers' heads were no where to be seen. Commercial vehicles and their drivers, including the hoard of 'agberos' who jostled for passengers like ants do to sugar and shouting louder than the vuvuzela, were visibly absent. STILL AS A GRAVEYARD (MY ELECTION DAY EXPERIENCE) PT 2 I was startled, like the proverbial antelope that entered a newly brushed farmland, when I saw people wall up the road, waiting for vehicles. I thought I was alone. Alone in this business. A business that would yield dividend in new set of leaders for my beloved country, Nigeria. The passengers numbered about thirty. While I inched closer I saw their faces. Desire was written all over. They want to exercise their civic right but one thing is holding them back. Vehicles. One that would take them to their various destinations. Some were going to Ibusa and Kwale, others to Ogwashi-Uku. Mine was slightly different. I was heading to Ubulu-Uku, my hometown, about 30 kilometers from Asaba. However, the vehicles were hard to come by. They were as few as the number of tooth on a child's mouth. Each oncoming vehicle presented a glimmer of hope which soon faded away when it zooms through without stopping. " "All this people wicked ooo, dey no even wan help carry person. Na wao! I for kukuma siddon for my house, but I no wan waste this vote", a man who should be in his early thirty, said. "I no know wetin dey do them ooo! Why dey no do am make people fit vote anywhere sef? All these politicians whey dey find vote suppose arrange bus this early morning dey come carry people sef. They no know how many people wen sidon for house sake of say dey no see transport go vote?", a lady replied while we waited. At some point, it appeared that I could finally be on my way to my home town. A vehicle could stop after being flagged down but the driver would say "Ibusa!" in response to "Ogwashi- Uku?". But soon, as the sun began to scorch our delicate skin, and with no means of movement in sight, my hopes of voting was now deflated, like a flat tyre. The number of persons on the road was depleting faster than the oxone layer. Siren was blaring. Military men with amoured cars hovered around like hawks looking for a prey. We were still waiting when one of the amoured cars with armed men began to move towards our direction, and before we knew it... STILL AS A GRAVEYARD (MY ELECTION DAY EXPERIENCE) PT.3 We were still waiting when one of the amoured cars with armed men moved towards us, with blaring siren. My heart skipped. And in a blink of the eyes, the car stopped. The screeching sound of the tyre, echoed through the air. Immediately, they hopped down from the car, parked at the walk way. With their guns, they waved down and searched every oncoming vehicle. I saw their eyes, they burned like fire. After waiting for ages with the chances of getting a vehicle fading quicker than a cheap ankara, I had no option than to consider going back. Though, going back would not be easy, I considered it the lesser evil. Movement was restricted, commercial "keke" riders have recoiled to their shells; some at home tossing on their succulent mattress while others were busy in their polling units, trying to vote. There were a handful of drivers who were making brisk business ferrying passengers to Ibusa. Some "keke" riders were not left out. They charged between #200 to #400, from Asaba to Ibusa which normally goes for less than a #100. "If I decide to go back now, that means I would trek the distance", I ruminated in my mind. Koka Junction to Okpanam Road (where I stay), could take me atleast an hour if I embark on the 'Great Trek'. I was still lost in the oceans of my thought when one of those standing with me, signalled an oncoming vehicle. Before we could say Jack Robinson, the golf car halted, we swarmed the vehicle and luckily for me, the driver was heading for my home town. As the car sped off the tarred Ibusa Road, the passengers, four of them, smiled like one who had just won American lottery. I was relieved that at last, I would vote. But after ten minutes into the journey, we saw some policemen. They had mounted a roadblock, between Ogwashi-Uku and Ibusa. "Make all of una come down", came a voice, as our vehicle drew close... STILL AS A GRAVEYARD (MY ELECTION DAY EXPERIENCE) PT. 4 "Make all of una come down", came a voice, as our vehicle drew close. We came out of the car. "Una no know say today na election, movement no dey ?", one of the policemen asked. One of the ladies with us, quickly replied them in "military jargon". Soon, she told them she is a Civil Defence officer going to exercise her right alongside those in the vehicle. All of us quickly dipped our hands in the pocket and flashed our voter's cards on the hostile- looking men. And in the mood of espirit de corp, the security men, waved us on; told us to continue the journey. It wasn't a smooth ride. We were at Kwale junction, Ogwashi-Uku, when the car started dancing. It began to jerk. The alternator belt had cut. The driver packed the vehicle and everyone came down. I was not disturbed as I could take an "okada" to my place, about fifteen minutes away. After exhausting his options, the driver had to move the dancing car like that. By this time, all passengers except me, had trotted away. I couldn't leave him behind.I felt his pains and decided to wait for him. "Vmmmm!", reeved the car engine and we were back on the road. He was headed for my home town. The car convulsed intermittently and moved slower than a snail. In no time, we got to Ubulu-Uku. I dashed to my country home, dropped my bag and zoomed off to the polling station. The polling station was the primary school I attended, it reminded me of my childhood. As I went through the walk way, forest of legs were matching to and fro the compound. I quickly located my unit and queued to be accredited. When it got to my turn, the "copa" requested for my voters' card. He placed in beneath the card reader, to capture details. While I placed my thumb on the reader, it couldn't recognize it. After several trials, he directed me to another "copa" to fill the incident form and get accredited. Once I finished, I found my way home to take some rest before coming back to cast my vote. The electoral officers were shouting louder than the trumpets that fell Jericho's walls. They told the where to thumbprint, to make their votes valid. People were under the sun which shone so hot, it could boil one pot of soup. "Ozu ge nwa nu uu, biko. Amam nye okwuú?" (It is okay now, I don't know what he is even saying), some of the voters shouted. The voting started within a blink of the eyes. As the first person came out from the makeshift polling booth, the thumbprint was clearly drawn between two parties. "Ya bu, nyenine we kwuzikwo, okeini anúkwo ne?" (Despite all they said, this man didn't understand?), queried some from the back of the queue, longer than the distance between Lagos and Maiduguri. It wasn't long before it got to my turn. I collected the three ballot papers, and headed to the decision booth to finally cast my vote. It didn't take the age of Methuselah before I dropped the papers, took some shots and logged- out of the place. My mind was as rest. I had done my bit, the rest for those who were elected! THE END! *This is a real life experience of what transpired in the early hours of the Presidential election. It chronicled my quest to vote and the journey from Okpanam Road, Asaba to my hometown, Ubulu-Uku, Delta state. 1 Like |
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