Oga Soldier, There Is God o! -By Ahmed Oluwasanjo

Those familiar with checkpoints around Abuja know the golden rule: “no phone calls at checkpoints”. So, once a vehicle is at a reasonable distance from a checkpoint, it behooves on the driver and other passengers to tell whoever is on a call in a car they are in to drop the call till the car passes the checkpoint. It is an unwritten law; a commandment that no one dares break except those ready to dine with the devil.

On Monday February 25, as the car I was in approached the Kuje checkpoint en route Abuja main city, I had my gaze on my smart phone, reading without using an earpiece to avoid being accused of making a call. Everyone in the vehicle could attest to this. Surprising, when we got to the checkpoint, I was singled out by one of the two soldiers on duty that morning and ordered to alight from the car. I did so, quietly. And then the soldier ordered me to join a number of guys standing aside and already serving the punishment of waving to passers bye in vehicles.

At that point, I knew I was in a mess in the hands of soldiers who probably woke up on the wrong side of their beds. The kind driver of the car I was in also alighted to plead for my release with the soldiers, even when the reason I was asked to alight from the car was barely known at that point. For me, watching the video of the young man who was brutalised by some cadets at Jabi Lake, a few weeks before, was a thing I could not have forgetten in a hurry. So, rather than raise any query, I obediently joined the group I was asked to.

While the driver of the car persisted in begging the armed officers, the soldier who ordered me out of the car started speaking in pidgin English, saying, “na so una go dey disturb us here, una hug una wives till day break, una hug una pillow till day break, una sleep well for una house, but if una reach our duty post, una go dey give us headache. Today, una go wave till 12pm before we leave una.”

Hearing this, I wondered how reading the news on my smart phone could cause soldiers at a checkpoint headache. Meanwhile, after about five minutes of pleading and not being able to prevail on the soldiers, the driver had to leave as the other passengers in the car, who were rushing to work, had become impatient.

Again, the soldier continued, “na so una go dey snap us photo here, dey post am for Internet; una go dey video us send to Whatsapp and Facebook. Today, una go wave here taya. Anybody pressing phone around here today go join una, even if na text the person dey type.”

Now it became clearer that we were being held and punished, not for making calls, but for the sins of those who had taken pictures of or videoed the soldiers at the checkpoint in the past. After another 10 minutes, the number of those of us serving the punishment had increased to eight. Then, the eldest man amongst us, who could have been somewhere in his 40s, said “I no make call o, na radio I dey listen to, na Hembelembe I dey hear with my phone.” The unfortunate ones among us who dared to ask questions from the soldiers received slaps in response. Except for a fair skinned lady who was crying; “sir, officer, please I was not making calls, I was only holding my phone”, as she pleaded.

The incident narrated above further reveals the followings: First, the disconnect between an average Nigerian soldier and the civilians and how ready to transfer aggression to the public our soldiers are. Second, a regular Nigerian soldier appears not to realise, almost in a fundamental sense, that the civilians they bully and abuse are a significant part of those they are actually employed to protect.

After we had all spent close to 30 minutes waving, and with much pleas, the soldiers then asked us to leave the checkpoint immediately. Were we lucky? Very much I believe, as we were highly fortunate that our punishment had not gone beyond waving our hands like orchestra conductors.

That is my story.

Of course, only a fool would trivialise the efforts of our gallant soldiers in combating the dreaded Boko Haram sect. I also agree that making telephone calls at a checkpoint could constitute security threats to our soldiers, but how does reading or listening to news on one’s smart phone constitute a threat to armed officers? If many of us knew beforehand that it is not allowed to use phones for any reason whatsoever at checkpoints through public enlightenment campaigns, of course we would not do so, to avoid being maltreated.

The incident narrated above further reveals the followings: First, the disconnect between an average Nigerian soldier and the civilians and how ready to transfer aggression to the public our soldiers are. Second, a regular Nigerian soldier appears not to realise, almost in a fundamental sense, that the civilians they bully and abuse are a significant part of those they are actually employed to protect.

Generally, we are all human beings, although our professions differentiate into soldiers or civilians. However, the power of the office we occupy in our various professions should not be personalised and used in the abuse of fellow human beings. Given this, I plead that our soldiers discharge their duties more professionally without recourse to the abuse of innocent citizens at the flimsiest of excuse.

God bless the Nigerian military.

God bless Nigeria.

Ahmed Oluwasanjo writes from Abuja.