malcom1X:
I was robbed OMG

chatinent:
I cannot forget in a hurry my gray experience. Years back, my dad had a fatal accident -- a scenario where a tiper truck ran him over, literally climbing and smashing his then Peagout 404 to nothing and he was in the driver's seat. While looking to save his life, some Lagos robbers still came to a dying man and robbed us all valuables (phones and otherwise) and left. We felt we had lost him but he escaped death by hair's breath. Many reasons I don't feel remorse for these thieves when they are brought to 'jungle' book.

decatalyst:


Wow! I am so happy to read the part that says he escaped death. God is great and good in all circumstances.

You see, the day it dawn on me that we have lost our humanity and our enviable communal qualities, was the day I went to the Mall and somehow, my car battery got drained. Started looking for JumpStart cable after someone gave me his car to use...finally met a cab guy, he said he was going to collect #1,000 to use the cable for less than 2min! This dude later collected #500. I just shake my head and concluded that we have lost it!

I don't pity people when bad things happen to them or they lack help. These things has a way of coming back to haunt.

Jakumo:
I was seated in the hallway of a Nigerian bank one Thursday afternoon many moons ago, awaiting my turn to grovel for a bank loan with the manager, whose office was located facing the bank vault, at the end of the narrow passageway lined with chairs, where I sat reading the morning paper.

Being somewhat tall, I had to angle my legs to one side when various banking officials needed to get past on their way to and from the manager's office. One of the officials dressed in a sharp business suit stopped briefly to shake my hand, and exchange greetings.

In a few moments I would learn that my impeccably dressed friend, dapper in the tailored grey business suit, was in fact the Vice Chairman of a silently infiltrating armed robbery delegation already positioned throughout the banking hall, and poised for the order to deploy.

My new acquaintance strolled off, and I had briefly returned to reading my newspaper, when something caught my eye beside the accountant's desk that sat on a raised platform adjacent to the hallway in which I awaited my interview with the bank manager.

A banking official, as I presumed, dressed in a crimson red business suit and tie, had been chatting quietly at the accountants desk, when he stood up from his chair, pulled aside his jacket, produced a massive black semi-automatic pistol, and in a booming military voice, commanded all in the bank to assume the felony-prone position FLAT on the ground, NOW !! The bank fell silent. Compliance with the surprise directive was total, unquestioning, and instantaneous.

The loading of cash from the vault commenced right away. Brand new Ghana-Must-Go plastic weave bags had been brought in by the gang for the cash reallocation exercise. Loading of currency into the bags, and then out to the waiting getaway vehicles, was carried out with remarkable speed by bank employees and customers working feverishly at gunpoint, while the gang scanned the exits.

The robbers, all similarly dressed in expensive 3-piece business suits, had that morning casually mingled with bank employees BEHIND the counter, by posing as customers with various detailed inquiries involving purported large sums of money. Right after their red-suited Boss Man unveiled his handgun for the honest world to see in that banking hall, his bellowed announcement of temporary regime change, was repeated by other members of the gang, who simultaneously produced an assortment of pistols and sub-machine-guns from beneath their business suit jackets.

When the vault was empty and well over a dozen extremely heavy bags of cash dragged out to the waiting vehicles, a few customers including myself were herded into the air tight vault, moments before sustained gunfire erupted in the banking hall, reverberating outside in the parking lot of the bank as well.

Unsure of whether the shooters had left or were dead in a fire-fight with responding police teams, myself and other impromptu vault residents waited for a good long time, before emerging tentatively from the emptied bank vault, with our ears still ringing from the boom of indoor gunfire, yet feeling oddly euphoric to have survived the tempest in one piece.

The police station was 100 meters from the bank, but they never showed up until the smoke cleared, and the cannonade of automatic rifle barrages had safely faded out of town. That failure to show up by the police, was my saving grace on that day. Yes sir, it was.

To this day, I keep in a drawer several 9mm shell casings that I picked up while still warm, from the bank floor as I made my way out. Those shell casings remind me to ALWAYS be courteous to men wearing expensive business suits.

Jakumo:
I was seated in the hallway of a Nigerian bank one Thursday afternoon many moons ago, awaiting my turn to grovel for a bank loan with the manager, whose office was located facing the bank vault, at the end of the narrow passageway lined with chairs, where I sat reading the morning paper.

Being somewhat tall, I had to angle my legs to one side when various banking officials needed to get past on their way to and from the manager's office. One of the officials dressed in a sharp business suit stopped briefly to shake my hand, and exchange greetings.

In a few moments I would learn that my impeccably dressed friend, dapper in the tailored grey business suit, was in fact the Vice Chairman of a silently infiltrating armed robbery delegation already positioned throughout the banking hall, and poised for the order to deploy.

My new acquaintance strolled off, and I had briefly returned to reading my newspaper, when something caught my eye beside the accountant's desk that sat on a raised platform adjacent to the hallway in which I awaited my interview with the bank manager.

A banking official, as I presumed, dressed in a crimson red business suit and tie, had been chatting quietly at the accountants desk, when he stood up from his chair, pulled aside his jacket, produced a massive black semi-automatic pistol, and in a booming military voice, commanded all in the bank to assume the felony-prone position FLAT on the ground, NOW !! The bank fell silent. Compliance with the surprise directive was total, unquestioning, and instantaneous.

The loading of cash from the vault commenced right away. Brand new Ghana-Must-Go plastic weave bags had been brought in by the gang for the cash reallocation exercise. Loading of currency into the bags, and then out to the waiting getaway vehicles, was carried out with remarkable speed by bank employees and customers working feverishly at gunpoint, while the gang scanned the exits.

The robbers, all similarly dressed in expensive 3-piece business suits, had that morning casually mingled with bank employees BEHIND the counter, by posing as customers with various detailed inquiries involving purported large sums of money. Right after their red-suited Boss Man unveiled his handgun for the honest world to see in that banking hall, his bellowed announcement of temporary regime change, was repeated by other members of the gang, who simultaneously produced an assortment of pistols and sub-machine-guns from beneath their business suit jackets.

When the vault was empty and well over a dozen extremely heavy bags of cash dragged out to the waiting vehicles, a few customers including myself were herded into the air tight vault, moments before sustained gunfire erupted in the banking hall, reverberating outside in the parking lot of the bank as well.

Unsure of whether the shooters had left or were dead in a fire-fight with responding police teams, myself and other impromptu vault residents waited for a good long time, before emerging tentatively from the emptied bank vault, with our ears still ringing from the boom of indoor gunfire, yet feeling oddly euphoric to have survived the tempest in one piece.

The police station was 100 meters from the bank, but they never showed up until the smoke cleared, and the cannonade of automatic rifle barrages had safely faded out of town. That failure to show up by the police, was my saving grace on that day. Yes sir, it was.

To this day, I keep in a drawer several 9mm shell casings that I picked up while still warm, from the bank floor as I made my way out. Those shell casings remind me to ALWAYS be courteous to men wearing expensive business suits.

Ogademo1:
your English is good

Ogademo1:
your English is good

stacyadams:



Your use of English reminds me of Tedero bag well

onward4life:



English taskforce agent!

Tadeknkeepcalm:
Ok here's the story, although I've told it elsewhere once.

So back when I was in junior school, my mum and I were the only ones at home. My Dad worked in another state and my elder brothers were all in school(boarding and uni).

Our house is a one storey building. The top was uncompleted and we lived below the deck. Our generator was on top(the uncompleted part) and wired down where we live. I went to put off the Gen at 8 pm, suddenly some dudes accousted me on my way. We live in a remote part of town and not many houses and people are around, so I was surprised by their sudden appearance. My mum was at the kitchen so she heard me shout and was concerned, but as soon as she stepped out they grabbed her as they did me and pushed both of us in.

They were about 4 or 5. Unmasked. They asked first for the phones, then they took my mum in and asked for her jewelries. We newly acquired a sienna, and they were asking for the papers. But they also took our provisions(Bournvita, milk, maltina and stuffs like that) and also some twenty twenty naira I have been saving, so it's kinda hard to tell what class of thieves they were.

There was a particular one of them th
ey called OC (officer in command), I recognized him. He came around earlier that week, trying to buy eggs from us (we owned a poultry). Our compound was unfenced so any one could just stroll in. We attended to him through the window and we told him we sell in bulk and not a single crate as he wanted. He soon said he wanted 8 crates. Strange right? We told him we had customers who had booked already, before he threw in the towel. My mum and I thought it wise not to go out that day anymore. Until later that week the idiot visited us with the same shirt on.

So there I was, lying flat in the sitting room, OC balanced in front of the TV (as the boss he is) watching WWE, while his boys ransacked the whole house and took whatever they thought valuable, soon, me sef join OC follow dey watch WWE for where I dey. After about an hour, they came to tie me up, they had tied my mum up in side too. And then took their leave and fled with the car.

We managed to untie ourselves and raised alarm in the neighborhood. See mummy waking me up to go to school the next morning, for where! But till this day, my mum and I have a strong feeling one of our neighbors was involved.

If you're amongst those who came over that night, how's your life going now? Has it been miserable? If so, please gist me
If not, your misery still awaits you.

But if you're all dead, then too bad

RuggedSniper:
^^^ I'm so happy your mum was not brutally raped in your presense or when your dad was around by those bastards! Padita Agu in a recent YouTube video said she was violated at only 15 years of age by robbers at home... and it left mentally stressed for a long time.

Tadeknkeepcalm:

Not that it can't happen o. But my mum was close to 50 then and these were young boys(in their 20's). I wouldn't lie, the thought did come up at the time but in retrospect, probability will be low.

Jakumo:
I was seated in the hallway of a Nigerian bank one Thursday afternoon many moons ago, awaiting my turn to grovel for a bank loan with the manager, whose office was located facing the bank vault, at the end of the narrow passageway lined with chairs, where I sat reading the morning paper.

Being somewhat tall, I had to angle my legs to one side when various banking officials needed to get past on their way to and from the manager's office. One of the officials dressed in a sharp business suit stopped briefly to shake my hand, and exchange greetings.

In a few moments I would learn that my impeccably dressed friend, dapper in the tailored grey business suit, was in fact the Vice Chairman of a silently infiltrating armed robbery delegation already positioned throughout the banking hall, and poised for the order to deploy.

My new acquaintance strolled off, and I had briefly returned to reading my newspaper, when something caught my eye beside the accountant's desk that sat on a raised platform adjacent to the hallway in which I awaited my interview with the bank manager.

A banking official, as I presumed, dressed in a crimson red business suit and tie, had been chatting quietly at the accountants desk, when he stood up from his chair, pulled aside his jacket, produced a massive black semi-automatic pistol, and in a booming military voice, commanded all in the bank to assume the felony-prone position FLAT on the ground, NOW !! The bank fell silent. Compliance with the surprise directive was total, unquestioning, and instantaneous.

The loading of cash from the vault commenced right away. Brand new Ghana-Must-Go plastic weave bags had been brought in by the gang for the cash reallocation exercise. Loading of currency into the bags, and then out to the waiting getaway vehicles, was carried out with remarkable speed by bank employees and customers working feverishly at gunpoint, while the gang scanned the exits.

The robbers, all similarly dressed in expensive 3-piece business suits, had that morning casually mingled with bank employees BEHIND the counter, by posing as customers with various detailed inquiries involving purported large sums of money. Right after their red-suited Boss Man unveiled his handgun for the honest world to see in that banking hall, his bellowed announcement of temporary regime change, was repeated by other members of the gang, who simultaneously produced an assortment of pistols and sub-machine-guns from beneath their business suit jackets.

When the vault was empty and well over a dozen extremely heavy bags of cash dragged out to the waiting vehicles, a few customers including myself were herded into the air tight vault, moments before sustained gunfire erupted in the banking hall, reverberating outside in the parking lot of the bank as well.

Unsure of whether the shooters had left or were dead in a fire-fight with responding police teams, myself and other impromptu vault residents waited for a good long time, before emerging tentatively from the emptied bank vault, with our ears still ringing from the boom of indoor gunfire, yet feeling oddly euphoric to have survived the tempest in one piece.

The police station was 100 meters from the bank, but they never showed up until the smoke cleared, and the cannonade of automatic rifle barrages had safely faded out of town. That failure to show up by the police, was my saving grace on that day. Yes sir, it was.

To this day, I keep in a drawer several 9mm shell casings that I picked up while still warm, from the bank floor as I made my way out. Those shell casings remind me to ALWAYS be courteous to men wearing expensive business suits.

Jakumo:
I was seated in the hallway of a Nigerian bank one Thursday afternoon many moons ago, awaiting my turn to grovel for a bank loan with the manager, whose office was located facing the bank vault, at the end of the narrow passageway lined with chairs, where I sat reading the morning paper.

Being somewhat tall, I had to angle my legs to one side when various banking officials needed to get past on their way to and from the manager's office. One of the officials dressed in a sharp business suit stopped briefly to shake my hand, and exchange greetings.

In a few moments I would learn that my impeccably dressed friend, dapper in the tailored grey business suit, was in fact the Vice Chairman of a silently infiltrating armed robbery delegation already positioned throughout the banking hall, and poised for the order to deploy.

My new acquaintance strolled off, and I had briefly returned to reading my newspaper, when something caught my eye beside the accountant's desk that sat on a raised platform adjacent to the hallway in which I awaited my interview with the bank manager.

A banking official, as I presumed, dressed in a crimson red business suit and tie, had been chatting quietly at the accountants desk, when he stood up from his chair, pulled aside his jacket, produced a massive black semi-automatic pistol, and in a booming military voice, commanded all in the bank to assume the felony-prone position FLAT on the ground, NOW !! The bank fell silent. Compliance with the surprise directive was total, unquestioning, and instantaneous.

The loading of cash from the vault commenced right away. Brand new Ghana-Must-Go plastic weave bags had been brought in by the gang for the cash reallocation exercise. Loading of currency into the bags, and then out to the waiting getaway vehicles, was carried out with remarkable speed by bank employees and customers working feverishly at gunpoint, while the gang scanned the exits.

The robbers, all similarly dressed in expensive 3-piece business suits, had that morning casually mingled with bank employees BEHIND the counter, by posing as customers with various detailed inquiries involving purported large sums of money. Right after their red-suited Boss Man unveiled his handgun for the honest world to see in that banking hall, his bellowed announcement of temporary regime change, was repeated by other members of the gang, who simultaneously produced an assortment of pistols and sub-machine-guns from beneath their business suit jackets.

When the vault was empty and well over a dozen extremely heavy bags of cash dragged out to the waiting vehicles, a few customers including myself were herded into the air tight vault, moments before sustained gunfire erupted in the banking hall, reverberating outside in the parking lot of the bank as well.

Unsure of whether the shooters had left or were dead in a fire-fight with responding police teams, myself and other impromptu vault residents waited for a good long time, before emerging tentatively from the emptied bank vault, with our ears still ringing from the boom of indoor gunfire, yet feeling oddly euphoric to have survived the tempest in one piece.

The police station was 100 meters from the bank, but they never showed up until the smoke cleared, and the cannonade of automatic rifle barrages had safely faded out of town. That failure to show up by the police, was my saving grace on that day. Yes sir, it was.

To this day, I keep in a drawer several 9mm shell casings that I picked up while still warm, from the bank floor as I made my way out. Those shell casings remind me to ALWAYS be courteous to men wearing expensive business suits.

Tadeknkeepcalm:
Ok here's the story, although I've told it elsewhere once.

So back when I was in junior school, my mum and I were the only ones at home. My Dad worked in another state and my elder brothers were all in school(boarding and uni).

Our house is a one storey building. The top was uncompleted and we lived below the deck. Our generator was on top(the uncompleted part) and wired down where we live. I went to put off the Gen at 8 pm, suddenly some dudes accousted me on my way. We live in a remote part of town and not many houses and people are around, so I was surprised by their sudden appearance. My mum was at the kitchen so she heard me shout and was concerned, but as soon as she stepped out they grabbed her as they did me and pushed both of us in.

They were about 4 or 5. Unmasked. They asked first for the phones, then they took my mum in and asked for her jewelries. We newly acquired a sienna, and they were asking for the papers. But they also took our provisions(Bournvita, milk, maltina and stuffs like that) and also some twenty twenty naira I have been saving, so it's kinda hard to tell what class of thieves they were.

There was a particular one of them they called OC (officer in command), I recognized him. He came around earlier that week, trying to buy eggs from us (we owned a poultry). Our compound was unfenced so any one could just stroll in. We attended to him through the window and we told him we sell in bulk and not a single crate as he wanted. He soon said he wanted 8 crates. Strange right? We told him we had customers who had booked already, before he threw in the towel. My mum and I thought it wise not to go out that day anymore. Until later that week the idiot visited us with the same shirt on.

So there I was, lying flat in the sitting room, OC balanced in front of the TV (as the boss he is) watching WWE, while his boys ransacked the whole house and took whatever they thought valuable, soon, me sef join OC follow dey watch WWE for where I dey. After about an hour, they came to tie me up, they had tied my mum up in side too. And then took their leave and fled with the car.

We managed to untie ourselves and raised alarm in the neighborhood. See mummy waking me up to go to school the next morning, for where! But till this day, my mum and I have a strong feeling one of our neighbors was involved.

If you're amongst those who came over that night, how's your life going now? Has it been miserable? If so, please gist me
If not, your misery still awaits you.

But if you're all dead, then too bad

Ogademo1:
your English is good

Bodydialect57:
Didn't you report the robbery to the police?

Jakumo:
I was seated in the hallway of a Nigerian bank one Thursday afternoon many moons ago, awaiting my turn to grovel for a bank loan with the manager, whose office was located facing the bank vault, at the end of the narrow passageway lined with chairs, where I sat reading the morning paper.

Being somewhat tall, I had to angle my legs to one side when various banking officials needed to get past on their way to and from the manager's office. One of the officials dressed in a sharp business suit stopped briefly to shake my hand, and exchange greetings.

In a few moments I would learn that my impeccably dressed friend, dapper in the tailored grey business suit, was in fact the Vice Chairman of a silently infiltrating armed robbery delegation already positioned throughout the banking hall, and poised for the order to deploy.

My new acquaintance strolled off, and I had briefly returned to reading my newspaper, when something caught my eye beside the accountant's desk that sat on a raised platform adjacent to the hallway in which I awaited my interview with the bank manager.

A banking official, as I presumed, dressed in a crimson red business suit and tie, had been chatting quietly at the accountants desk, when he stood up from his chair, pulled aside his jacket, produced a massive black semi-automatic pistol, and in a booming military voice, commanded all in the bank to assume the felony-prone position FLAT on the ground, NOW !! The bank fell silent. Compliance with the surprise directive was total, unquestioning, and instantaneous.

The loading of cash from the vault commenced right away. Brand new Ghana-Must-Go plastic weave bags had been brought in by the gang for the cash reallocation exercise. Loading of currency into the bags, and then out to the waiting getaway vehicles, was carried out with remarkable speed by bank employees and customers working feverishly at gunpoint, while the gang scanned the exits.

The robbers, all similarly dressed in expensive 3-piece business suits, had that morning casually mingled with bank employees BEHIND the counter, by posing as customers with various detailed inquiries involving purported large sums of money. Right after their red-suited Boss Man unveiled his handgun for the honest world to see in that banking hall, his bellowed announcement of temporary regime change, was repeated by other members of the gang, who simultaneously produced an assortment of pistols and sub-machine-guns from beneath their business suit jackets.

When the vault was empty and well over a dozen extremely heavy bags of cash dragged out to the waiting vehicles, a few customers including myself were herded into the air tight vault, moments before sustained gunfire erupted in the banking hall, reverberating outside in the parking lot of the bank as well.

Unsure of whether the shooters had left or were dead in a fire-fight with responding police teams, myself and other impromptu vault residents waited for a good long time, before emerging tentatively from the emptied bank vault, with our ears still ringing from the boom of indoor gunfire, yet feeling oddly euphoric to have survived the tempest in one piece.

The police station was 100 meters from the bank, but they never showed up until the smoke cleared, and the cannonade of automatic rifle barrages had safely faded out of town. That failure to show up by the police, was my saving grace on that day. Yes sir, it was.

To this day, I keep in a drawer several 9mm shell casings that I picked up while still warm, from the bank floor as I made my way out. Those shell casings remind me to ALWAYS be courteous to men wearing expensive business suits.