That Morning

I left home around 6:30 a.m. In no time, I completed the 10-minute walk to the bus stop and started waiting for a bus that was going my route. I was carrying my backpack. Inside, my laptop and mobile phone. You may wonder why I put my mobile phone in my backpack; the battery was flat.

Unlike most days where I barely spend two minutes at the bus stop before getting a bus, ten minutes passed and I was still waiting. I looked at my wristwatch every other second. No bus seemed to be going my route. Another ten minutes passed. Then I saw a bus approaching, and the conductor was calling where I was going with his rough voice (most of them have rough voices). I prepared to hop on the bus. Anyone who has lived in Lagos or lives in Lagos knows that sometimes hopping on a bus could be a challenge. You could get elbowed or pushed. And because buses going my route were scarce, it was definitely going to be a bigger challenge.

The bus pulled up and it was already half-full. After some pushing and forcing, I got a space close to the door. Then the conductor called a fare thrice the normal fare and asked anyone who wasn’t ready to pay to get off. I had no choice but to get off and a lady took my space.

Well, all I needed was patience and the ability to struggle into another when it arrived.

While I was waiting, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned and saw three men. The one who tapped my shoulder showed me his ID (a police officer) and then asked what I had in my bag. First, I said I had books in it. Then I said I had a laptop, knowing they would demand to look inside. After asking a few questions, specifically wanting to know where I was going to, he asked me to open the backpack.

Then he said I would have to prove that I owned the laptop. He asked for the receipt of purchase, but I didn't have it.

One thing led to another, and then he collected the backpack and pulled out the laptop. The next words I heard was, “I would seize this until you prove ownership.” I began to have doubts that they were real police officers. But the fact that they were interrogating me in public, at a bus stop, made me get thoughts of them being fake out of my mind.

He asked me to follow them. I looked around and no one seemed to notice all that had happened. Well, all their attention was on how they would get a bus.

We got to where they had parked and they asked me to enter. Then it struck me that they were taking me to the police station. I started pleading, but they didn’t even act like they heard anything I said. They asked me to enter the back seat and one of them sat on my right and another sat on my left. The third man, the one who tapped me, sat in the passenger seat. From nowhere, a fat man opened the driver’s door and sat in the driver’s seat. Before he started the engine, the man in the passenger seat told him, “im no get receipt of im laptop.” (He doesn’t have a receipt for his laptop.)

I continued begging. The fat man started the engine and accelerated. But, guess what, they were fake policemen. Moving fast through a stretch of road with no houses close by, the fat man suddenly pulled over. The man sitting on my left stepped out and pulled me out of the car. I actually thought they had changed their mind. He collected my backpack and entered the car. They zoomed off. Laptop, gone! Mobile phone, gone! All in less than five minutes.

Bad experience. I stood at the same spot for several minutes before I started walking back home. What would I have done differently if I could turn back the hands of time? I really don't know. Police officers in my city who often go around without uniforms dislike when people argue or disagree with them. I had heard stories. I guess that's why I obeyed.

But it's now weeks ago. I have put that bad day behind me.

Thanks for reading.
Image from Pixabay.com