Petra is at Alausa... Having escaped from Ogudu. Na so I carry my fatigued self go Kosofe LG Secretariat for Ogudu this afternoon in a final attempt at getting my PVC in Lagos before moving the search train to Abuja. I had to go because I believed Jega when he said all those who had relocated residences needed to do was to apply to request transfer of our PVCs. So, to Ogudu I went. Smooth journey until we approached the secretariat complex. Then we noticed this beehive of activities. What was going on? A quick of as many faces suggested some kind of struggle. Struggle for what? We got closer. Thugs had taken over both sides of the road, right in front of the Secretariat and Police station. They were running all over the place like demon-possessed people; some others were howling like some demented fellas. I wondered if it wasnt an association of loonies who had congregated for a cause. I alighted and just then a heavily built, disgustingly bleached and distastefully tattoo-ed mass of masculine body ran towards where I was bleeding all over. I hurriedly moved away, watching from a distance. His legion of followers ran to keep up with him as they urged him to hurry... Hurry and come back with reinforcement. Ko gbara di, I heard one say. I dont think anyone bothered about his broken head... My heart was thumping. I thought I was weak and thirsty and dizzy but I also knew I had to transact my business and get the hell out of that vicinity. Pow! Pow!! Pow!!! Omo, at that point, Usain Bolt had nothing on me mehn. Me? Strayed bullet from Police? Not my destiny. I run pass people wey well comot from house sef. Helter-skelter... Confusion... Return of some sense and into a buka I bolted. After a while, I came out and stood in front of the buka. I saw guys, hiding daggers by the waistbands of their trousers. Some were distributing small but thick matchettes from a bag. Others were hopping into vehicles going for reinforcements. Whats going on? I asked someone. I no know madam. Na so I see dem so. Dem say na party matter. I eventually came out from hiding and after taking off every item of jewelry I had on, I made my way cautiously but briskly to the gate of the secretariat. Locked. Madam, you cant enter I was told by someone manning the gate. Why? I asked. Primaries for House of Assembly are ongoing he replied firmly. This is one hell of a funny country, isnt it? He shrugged with a smile. I remembered just then I was around a volatile environment and made my way outta there. I had barely taken 3 steps when I saw the guy from earlier. His head was no longer bleeding as much as earlier. He had a shirt on. Im sure, he had reinforced too. We were moving in opposite directions. He was saying some words from an igbo(weed) laden voice. I walked faster. Then, some three or four guys hurried past. Blood was gushing out of a hand wrapped with a shirt to stop the bleeding. Futile attempt, it proved. For every step the injured guy took, his blood left a trail. The bleeding was heavy yet the injured seemed oblivious to that or he just didnt mind. Instead, he had more important things on his mind. More important things like awon ti Bariga nko? Won ti de ni? Won se nwaste time bayi? All dis razz and jazz all for primaries? A sneek peak into 2015? Na wa! Started writing this in Alausa. Petra is home. Adupe!
Posted on: Tue, 02 Dec 2014 14:47:08 +0000
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