Profiling And The Anatomy Of Fear Sometimes in life you remember some things and you just bust into laughter. Those things may not have induced a simple grin when it happened but with the passage of time and in retrospect...you laugh. Before I left Nigeria, my Nigerian passport was scheduled to expire and it needed renewal. I went to Alagbon close and went through the usual indignities one goes through to obtain a Nigerian passport. I had tarried going for collection because I just hated the way Nigerians are served by the agents of the state. They herd us like goats and bark out orders. The waiting area looked every inch like a holding cell in Waziristan. A day before I left Nigeria; I went for collection and I did get there late hoping the late afternoon will be less clumsy. While I sat at the waiting area, a certain bearded man clad in neat guinea brocade caftan walked in. The caftan looked modest and hugged his skin gently. His pants sits well above the ankle. He personified a common sight in Nigeria this days (the Tabliqh Muslims). Suddenly, I noticed I swallowed hard, I broke out in sweat, my palms and feet were sweaty, and tiny beads of sweat clustered my nose. Those things do not happen to me except when Im in fright. My eyes roved around, I was restless! My eyes caressed his body through his clothes. I was looking for what was not present. Fear took me over. It seemed he was muttering something to himself or maybe I imagined he was. He looked on straight looking at nothing and no one in particular. Suddenly my bladder revolted or maybe I imagined it. It was like a pipe bursted in my internal plumbing system. I wanted the safety of the bathroom but then I recalled those lengthy, lumpy feces usually found in public bathrooms that doesnt flush until you get a plunger and a barrel of water. They stare at you like a cylindrical sourdough made by a mad baker and with a mighty stink. I advised myself to perish the thought plus you had to pay them to irritate yourself using the bathroom. I had forgotten we were in the middle of Ramadan, the brother might be saying some prayers or just thinking aloud. All in about 3minutes I was literally disoriented. My vision got blurry and I was thrown into petty hallucinations. Suddenly, a rotund uniformed man walked in and started calling some names. He called Ibrahim something and brother leapt to his feet; collected his passport and walked out! I ran out after him totally oblivious of my platform shoes. I had no idea how fast and well I ran but boy! I did run!. When he walked to the gate, I made for the opposite end of the waiting area until after 30minutes hugging a brush and sweating profusely. Poor man, he was just being himself and going about the legitimate business of procuring himself a passport. My mind did a somersault of fear and attribution for no other reason other than his beard and dressing. What was I thinking I asked? Nyanya!!! My mind profiled him and my body did what fear induced. I can laugh now but if you were there, I looked pitiable like an orphaned day old cosset. No one noticed me and whatever I was going through. Do you blame me?
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 05:22:29 +0000
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