He was drenched with sweat by the time he
wriggled himself through the narrow entrance of
his room into the pa$$ageway. Looking very
depressed and drowsy that Thursday afternoon, he
dragged himself along the hole-ridden pa$$age
and collapsed into the rickety sofa beside the
staircase that leads to the upper floors in one of
the buildings in the barracks.
With frustration written all over his face, Emma
Uden (not real names), a sergeant in the police,
kept muttering to himself, but dosed off few
minutes later. Apparently disturbed by the music
blaring in his neighbourhood, Uden could not but
open his eyes feebly and intermittently.
His pain was obvious to anyone who came across
him, but the reason for his frustration was largely
unknown. However, as Uden would later tell
PUNCH in a conversation he grudgingly consented
to, since the apartment allotted to him in the
barracks collapsed in June last year, he and his
family had been living in the kitchen of one of the
dilapidated buildings in Pedro police barracks,
Somolu, Lagos. That was his main frustration.
“It was the only alternative we had at that time,” he
said, as he unbuttoned his shirt to enjoy some
fresh air.
Since he and his family were constrained to live in
a room (kitchen), he said life had become one of
bitterness and frustration. To escape the intense
heat of the day and the constant constraint of
space that his family of six could never live
comfortably with, Uden had been used to sitting
outside anytime he was home.
Hoping that respite could eventually come his way
if he opened up to Saturday PUNCH, Uden wasted
no time in leading their correspondent to his room
where he lives with his wife and their four children.
He opened the door and lowered his head as he
made to enter, to avoid being bruised on the head
by the doorframe. As he opened the curtain for
Punch to enter, the odour, which seemed like a
mixture of wet rug and accumulated sweat, that
oozed out of the stuffy room was disturbing and
could make anybody puke.
The room was like a store reserved for unused
household items. The only window in the room
appeared dysfunctional while the base of the wall
that was visible was seriously dampened, and the
ceiling riddled with signs of serious dilapidation.
Expectedly, Uden, whose four children had
occupied the only bed in the room, appeared
discomfited by the state of the place he called
home as he continually scratched his head to look
for the right words.
Even though he is not alone in such a tortuous
situation in the premises, he said he had resorted
to coming home just to sleep, unless he was off
duty. This, he said, was to avail his family some
space in the room and that sometimes he would
rather stay in his office or volunteer to go on
patrol, all in a bid to stay away from home. They
don’t even live alone in the house, occasionally, the
family live with big rats that find their way out of
the broken septic tank located close to the kitchen
into the room.
He said:
“When we were still living in the room and parlour
before our building collapsed last year, we were
managing because of the small space, not to talk of
now that we have just one room, which used to be
a kitchen. It’s like living in a cave. That is the lot of
most of us.
“Can you imagine that? We live in a kitchen, and
you want policemen to be your friends while you
all live in your comfortable mansions. You expect
us to carry rifle and risk our lives to protect people.
Haba!”
His pa$$ionate expression of grief was second to
none, even though he said he had concluded
arrangements to leave the barracks for a room and
parlour accommodation he secured somewhere in
Bariga area of Lagos.
He added:
“If nobody takes care of us, we will take care of
ourselves, because apart from the space issue, we
(residents of this barracks) queue to use toilet and
bathroom, because the ones available are not
adequate. So we queue to bathe every morning.
Here, three-room and parlour flats share one toilet
and bathroom. For me and my family who live in
an abandoned kitchen, we pair with another flat.
So, we join the queue every morning.
Don’t forget that we are all adults with families. I
feel ashamed that I go through this every morning.
Tell those people in government what you saw
here. Let them know we are suffering. Even when
we get to the office, we either sit under the tree or
stand in the sun.”. www.gltrends.com/we-live-like-rats-yet-nigerians-want-us-to-be-their-friends-police-see-sad-photos/