Leaving Nigeria After #EndSARS

I used to believe that good was rewarded by the universe with good. Most people do. It’s why Theodore Parker’s quote, ‘The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice,’ is so popular.

On 7 October 1967, the leaders of Asaba town attempted a show of support for ‘One Nigeria’. The Biafran War was breathing down their necks, so they made a last-ditch attempt to show they were on the likely winner’s side. In Ogbe Osowa, they dressed up in ceremonial white clothing and lined the roads singing ‘One Nigeria’ songs. It did not work. The men and boys were separated, gathered in the square and shot. Some bodies were retrieved and buried; hundreds of bodies were never found. The people of Ezenei, Ugbomanta, Ajaji and Umuonaje, the kindreds most affected, cannot answer this question accurately: Where are the rest of the bodies?

LAGOS, 2020

53 years passed. In the days leading up to 20 October 2020, the End SARS protests were gaining traction. Nigerians, most of them young men and women, were protesting police brutality. On 11 October 2020, my wife and I entered the body of a small crowd at Allen Avenue, Ikeja, chanting End SARS! The small crowd swelled in size as we walked. By the time we got to Toyin Street roundabout, there were so many people, we had to hold hands to avoid losing each other. I walked slowly as I was just recovering from an illness, my wife eager and strong, pulling me along. The crowd paused briefly at Toyin, then continued into Opebi Road. At Chicken Republic, we turned onto Opebi Link Road, overwhelming the small stretch. About eight men in a white Hilux truck, four in the truck, four sitting on the tailgate holding signs joined us where Opebi Link Road and Kudirat Abiola Way abut, the crowd, millipede-like, with the white truck at its head, turned left into Kudirat Abiola Way, right into Olarenwaju Street, where a small fight sparked and I began to tire at Billings Way, or maybe I was afraid, we dropped towards the tail of the crowd as it began turning into Governor’s Avenue. At Alausa, we met a small crowd of people who had slept on the floor the night before. We drank water and resumed chanting ‘End SARS!’. Soon, a murmur found its way to us. The governor was going to come out of his office and address the crowd. After about one hour, we extricated ourselves, a small trickle, out of the side of the millipede, called an Uber and went home.