Casual Musing with Chioma Emezi
Email: chyemezi@gmail.com Twitter: @cutechyoma
I have had some quite embarrassing experiences but the one I am about to narrate today takes the cake. I shake my head as I type this because it is still very vivid and leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. Bear with me as I put down this rather lengthy rendition.
I was a sophomore student in the university when this happened. It was the Eid-el-Fitr celebration and the Federal Government had declared the two days after the weekend public holidays. I took advantage of the ‘long weekend’ to go spend some time with my aunty in Lagos. I left my school on Friday evening after my lectures and arrived my destination two hours later.
My aunty lived on a street off the very popular Adeniran Ogunsanya in Surulere, Lagos. She was happy to see me as always and was up and about trying to fix me dinner. In a bid to help out with some chores, I offered to go empty the trash can. At that time, the general refuse dump in the area was under the bridge at Shitta roundabout, a stone throw from where my aunt lived. She asked me to rest as I had just arrived but I insisted and she let me go. By this time, I had showered and dressed down in my house shorts and ‘spaghetti top’. No bra. I slipped on my flip flops, carried the garbage bucket and off i went.
I had successfully disposed the garbage and was on my way home. This was around 10pm. At this time, the ladies of the night or should i say women of the world’s oldest profession had come out for business as usual. They were skimpily clad, standing right on the street with their ‘wares’ in full display for willing customers. As I was on the other side of the street, waiting for traffic to clear so I could cross into Adebola Street where my aunt lived, the next thing I heard was the screeching of tyres and I saw fierce looking policemen jumping down from their van. They rounded up most of the ‘night nurses’ on the street and some went in hot pursuit of the fleeing ones. I just stood there, transfixed, rooted to the spot and trying to process what was going on.
By this time, the road was clear and as I carried the garbage bucket and made to cross the street, the next thing I heard was “Stop there! Hol’ it! Where you dey go?’ I didn’t think I was the one being spoken to so I continued. I then felt a rough hand grab my upper arm and I almost peed on myself. “No be you I dey talk to and you just dey waka dey go”. With a puzzled look on my face I asked “What did I do?” “Oh na me you dey ask? How many times we don warn una say make una no dey stand for this road yet una no dey gree hear word. We go show una pepper today.”
Ah! It then dawned on me that I was being mistaken for one of the ladies of the night! “Oga, I no stand for road o. Na dustbin I go Shitta go troway. See my bucket. I no be ashawo abeg.”
Out of nowhere, one of the ladies already sitting in the police van retorted “Oga no min am. Na all of us follow stand here this night. No be this girl follow me drag customer this night? Oga police no min am. You no see her breast say she no wear bra? Na we we jare.”
I was gobsmacked. I tried to speak but no words came out. The policeman shoved me straight into their van. The rest of the policemen jumped in and the van drove off and headed toward the UTC/Terris Burger end of Adeniran Ogunsanya Street. This is where a popular mall is currently situated.
I kept trying to declare my innocence. I told the policemen that I was a student who just came to spend the weekend with her aunt. The call girls laughed and said they too were students and that my story was hogwash. They were all laughing at me alongside some policemen. My whole life flashed before me. How did I end up at the back of a police van?
When I couldn’t bear it anymore, i broke down. In tears I told one of the policemen that I had the garbage bucket with me. In my confusion I had forgotten that I carried it into the van. That bucket turned out to be my saving grace. I also told him to see that I was wearing mere flip flops and was not looking for any nocturnal business. Somehow, he paid attention and told one of his colleagues “Ol Boy, this girl no be their member. Look am well. See as she dey cry and she even carry dustbin bucket here. Abeg driver stop make we drop am.”
At that point all the other ladies started yelling “Officer if una drop am, una go drop all of us o. Na all of us follow dey work this night.” The policeman told all of them to keep quiet and pointed at some and asked “How many times we don arrest you this week? This girl no be one of una. I never see her face before and look am, look una. This one na Omo Mummy, una be ogbologbo.” He then yelled “Driver! Abeg turn. We dey go back Shitta side make we go drop this pickin.”
To my relief they van turned and headed back in the direction we were coming from. I told him my aunt lived on Adebola Street and as we got to the junction, there was my aunt, standing there, arms akimbo and looking very worried. The van stopped. I jumped down. The policeman who intervened in my case also came down to ask my Aunt if she knew who I was. My aunty said I had gone to help her empty the trashcan and did not return on time.
The policeman said “Madam, next time no send am for night. We dey patrol every night and we dey arrest any woman wey we see for road for night after 10 o’clock.” My Aunty who is a Lawyer went ballistic! “What?? You mistook my niece for a prostitute?”
Before she could continue I dragged her along and said “Aunty please lets go before they change their mind and re-arrest me. Officer thank you Sir.” With that I held my aunt’s hand and pulled her along before more damage would be done.
It has been over eighteen years but I am yet to live down this experience.
