In  an  attempt  to  make  me  testify  falsely, I  was  blindfolded and thrown  down  from  a  balcony. I  landed  with  my  ribs  and  the searing  and  excruciating  pains  abide  sill. Twice, I  was  tortured with  electrical  devices. I  have  even  been  taken  to  the  cemetery  severally, under  the  watchful  eyes  of  Mr.  Ita  Ekpenyong, the  former  Director  General  of  DSS  and  asked, gun  to  my  head, to  send  my  last  wishes  to  my  family. I’ve  gone  through  all  sort  of  things, yet, I  didn’t  do  it. I  neither  have  prior  knowledge  of  the  infamous  October 1st, 2010  twin  bombings  nor  had  anything  to  do  with  the  bombing  claimed  by  the  Movement  for  the  Emancipation  of  Niger  Delta(MEND).

I  am  Edmund  Ebiwari  Opori, an  Abuja-based  graduate  of  Philosophy  from  my  state owned  Niger  Delta  University. Just  like  every  young  person, I  had  youthful  dreams. I had  dreams  of  becoming  somebody  in  life. So, when  the  opportunity  to  play  a  part in the  sensitization  of  Niger  delta  youths  when  amnesty  was  offered  militants  came, I gladly  grabbed  it  with  both  hands. This  role  afforded  me  the  opportunity  to  meet people. It  also  made  me  meet  and  get  to  know  some  ex–agitators, as  they  are  called now.

Everything  was  fine. I’m  happily  married, blessed  with  lovely  kids  and  was  doing  just fine  as  a  young  man. As  far  as  I  was  concerned; life  was  good.

Then, my  phone  rang  at  about  12  noon  on  the  third  day  of  October, 2010. On  checking who the  caller  was, it  was  Pastor  Reuben  Wilson(an  ex–agitator). We  exchanged pleasantries  as  friends  do, and  he  told  me  he  needed  me  to  come  over  to  Bolingo Hotel. “Hope  all  is  fine,” I  asked. “Yes,” he  answered. “I  just  need  you  to  do  me  a favor. Please  come  help  me  offset  my  hotel  bills. It  is  fifty  thousand  naira(N50,000).” I heeded  his  plea. I  agreed  to  help  him.

I  drove  down  to  his  location, eased  my  car  into  the  hotel  compound  and  relieved him  of  this  burden. Immediately  after  making  payments, everything  changed. Things happened  very  fast. I  was  rounded  up, my  car  keys  collected  and  seized, my  hands cuffed, my  eyes  blindfolded  and  I  was  bundled  into  their  vehicle  and  whisked  off. Unbeknownst  to  me, his  plea  was  a  plot  to  hand  me  over  to  the  DSS.

Before  I  could  call  Jack, I’ve  landed  in  the  underground  solitary  confinement  of  the DSS. My  crime? It  was  alleged  that  I  had  prior  knowledge  of  the  Independence  Day Bombings, even though  I  haven’t  met  Henry  Okah, the alleged  mastermind of the atrocity, in  my  life. However, as you will realize shortly, the hunt for my life has mothing to do with the Bombing or the Okahs.

I  was  affiliated  to  the  General Ibrahim Badamusi Babangida  campaign structure in the build up to the 2011 Presidential election. I, in fact, helped  High  Chief  Raymond  Dokpesi to secure  IBB’s  campaign  office  in  Yenagoa  in  September, 2010. My  reason  for working for  them  is  simple. It  was  borne  out  of  my  strong  disdain  for  reneging  on agreements. I  always  keep  to  agreements; it  is  a  matter  of  principle. I  believed  the zoning  arrangement  should  have  been  adhered  to. If  that  was  done, we, Niger Deltans, would  have  been  saved  that  embarrassing  loss  in  the  last  presidential elections.

So, for  this  cause, I’ve  been  given  a  life  sentence. For  failing  to  implicate  the  IBB group, Timi  Alaibe, Timipre  Sylva, High  Chief  Dokpesi, Charles  Soludo, Emmanuel Uduaghan, Nasir  el-Rufai, Emami  Ayiri, Senator  JK  Brambaifa  my  life  has  been  tacitly taken  from  me.

Timi  Alaibe  was  summoned  to  the  DSS  headquarters. We  met, and  I  told  them, in Alaibe’s  presence  that  I  didn’t  get  any  information  prior  to  the  occurrence, so  I didn’t tell  Mr. Alaibe  anything. I  was  drilled  and  instructed  to  say  I  met  Alaibe  some days before  the  bombing  and  advised  him  to  travel  to  London  before  October  1st. In the same  vein, they  took  me  to  the  cemetery, drilled me for hours,in order to get me to implicate  Chief  Dokpesi. They  wanted  me  to  confess  that  he  gave  me  money to facilitate the bombing. But  when  he  came  over, I  said  the  truth. To  their disappointment, I  said  the  truth  again. Mr. Dokpesi  was  elated. He  joyfully  danced.Alas, he  was  exonerated.

That  was why I  was  handcuffed, blindfolded  and  taken  to  the  underground  solitary cell  at  the  Department  of  State  Security  headquarters  in  Abuja. I  was  chained  to  the wall  for  three  months, brought  out  every  three  days  to  be  subjected  to  grueling torture, leaving  my  back  with  purulent  sores  and  the  rest  of  my  body  with permanent  swellings  and  a  mass  of  sores  which  no  longer  has  definition  as  each weal  has  merged  into  another. I  wasn’t  allowed  to  have  visitors. I  was  denied  visits, except  once  when  Festus  Kenyamo, my  lawyer, came  to  see  me.

They  later  opened  up, telling  me  Henry  Okah  is  their main  target. All  they need  me do is  to  falsely  confess  that  he  told  me  of  his  plans  to  bomb the  Eagle  Square  on Independence  Day. They  promised  me  largesse, if  I  danced  to  their  tune. Those  who orchestrated  this  bombing  have  been  freed  two  years  ago. When  I  probed  the  issue, the  prosecuting  counsel  said, they  were  freed  because  they  cooperated. Because  I don’t know  how  to  cooperate, all  I  had  worked  hard  for  have  been  confiscated, my name dragged  to  the  mud  and  I’ve  been  convicted  not  on  concrete  evidences  but mere assumptions.

I  met  Charles  Okah  and  Late  Francis  Osuwo  Gbokos  for  the  first  time  in  this underground  cell. We  were  later  transferred  to  Kuje  Prison  around  8p.m, one  day, in a  manner  too  scary  to  explain. We  spent  four  years  together  in  that  unaired, dark and  stinking  Kuje  solitary  cell, with  cavalcade  of  snakes, frogs, lizards, rats  and scorpions.

Francis  Osuwo  Gbokos  didn’t  survive  it. He  passed  to  the  great  beyond  leaving  his wife  and  five  kids. He  didn’t  have  the  chance  to  defend  himself  in  court. Till  date, his corpse  lies  at  the  morgue  of  the  Gwagalada specialist  hospital, his  family  not allowed to  claim  his remains.

Charles  Okah  is  presently  ill. His  ailment  and  Francis’s  death  are  sure  connected  to the inhumane  conditions  mete  on  us.

I  remain  jarred.
They  lied  when  they  told  Nigerians  that  High  Chief  Dokpesi  gave  me  money  to bomb. The  text  messages  I  exchanged  with  Dokpesi  were  as  a  result  of  the  office  I helped him  secure  for  the  IBB  campaign  group  in  Yenagoa.

I  lack  the  skill  to  capture  those  moments; the  still  suppurating  furrows; the  tip  of  the whip  digging  my  skin; the  scab  and  scars  it  left; the  wails  and  screams, with  hot tears streaming  down  my  cheek. Nor  do  I  pretend  to  understand  the  stark  nihilism that drove  whoever  roped  me  into  this  to  do  that. My  powers  of  empathy, my  ability to reach  into  another’s  heart, cannot  penetrate  the  thoughts  of  those  who  would subject an innocent  man  to  excruciating  pain, silently  and  slowly  murdering  him, abusing the humanity  we  all  share, with abstract, serene satisfaction.

I  need  all  well  meaning  people  to  support  me  because  I  am  innocent. I  think  of  my aging  mother. I  think  about  my  lovely  wife. My  lovely  kids  and  siblings, my  freedom, please, I need  you  to  help  me  get  it  all  back.

Read More:http://www.sayelbatimes.com/how-gej-used-my-fellow-ijaw-man-and-the-dss-to-frame-me-with-the-abuja-october-1st-bombing-edmund-ebiwari/

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