Vanguard Newspaper crime editor narrates how he escaped being lynched by Okada riders.
Vanguard newspaper crime editor Mr. Emmanuel Anadozie has narrated how he escaped being lynched by commercial motorcycle riders popularly called Okada.
he stated " NARROW ESCAPE FROM GOLGOTHA
Last Saturday night, around 7.30 pm, I was driving along Apple junction in Amuwo- Odofin area of Lagos state, very close to my office, going towards Second Rainbow bus stop.
Suddenly, two commercial motorcyclists popularly called Okada recklessly rammed into each other on the lane directly beside mine. The impact flung one of the riders headlong, towards my moving car. His head came directly under my left front tyre. I swerved to my right side on impulse. Clutching the steering wheel tightly and narrowly avoided crushing the human head.
But, his motorcycle still ran freely after my vehicle. And came crashing on the floodlight! Broken pieces of translucent glass went up like a volley of bullets and came down at the same speed; covering some portion of the road.
I made an effort to manoeuvre the car out of the wreckage: other okada riders arrived as if on cue. Swiftly, one after the other, they blocked my car. In a flash, no fewer than twenty dirty cravens surrounded me. From all sides, accusing fingers furiously directed angst at me.
I hastily stepped out of the vehicle. And attempted to explain the incident by recapturing the scenes.
Needless to say that my explanations fell on deaf ears! More Riders joined the mob. Their rough statures formed a thick iron circle around my car.
Ferociously, accusations of me of being responsible for the incident took free reign. To drive the point home; one of them, a lean dark fellow, yanked off his hot exhaust pipe and used the steaming metal to etch a mark on my lower leg. A quick cloud of pain settled around my head.
At this instant, I knew that my life was in grave peril. Recollections of similar ugly scenarios where innocent motorists were either lynched with their cars burnt or stabbed by blood-sucking, monstrous lunatics, filed past my subconsciousness. I had to think fast!
There is no mistaking this mob for normal commercial motorcyclists. These appear to feast on pent-up rage. Cold bloodshot eyes gave them away. If there was any doubt that remnants of the deadly Boko Haram members and foreign terrorists from the Sahel have infiltrated Lagos to engage in Okada riding: such doubts were effectively dissipated by the scene unfolding before my eyes that evening.
Almost all were well-armed under their dirty clothing. Noticeably high on drugs, a large number of them, drew daggers! Yet, none of them witnessed the crash. None can give an account of how the incident took place. Most surprising was that none cared to help their wounded brothers, still lying on the road. They were only eager for a lone motorist's blood. And to deal ruthlessly with other motorists found around the scene. Confusion enveloped the long evening. I reached for the Cross I always tuck inside my dress pocket before driving out. Silent prayers poured out from the inner recesses of my being.
The Lord in His infinite mercies, sent a helper!
As I was shouting myself hoarse with one hand, explaining that I did not cause the accident, a young male bystander raised his voice from the pedestrian walkway. He explained how the accident occurred in two quick sentences. Also yelled at them that I was a victim! crashinganding right beside the road started raising his voice, explaining that I was not responsible for the accident, that I was a victim.
He mustered the guts and approached the dagger-wielding mob, quietly repeating his explanation to as many as his brave heart encouraged him to come close enough to.
Miraculously, two or three of them peered intently into my eyes in disbelief but still anticipated 'bloody' action.
With bated breath, I kept on shouting, pleading my innocence. At this stage, one of the riders that were blocking the front side of my car gave way slightly. He drove away through the side of my car. While this was going on, more and more of the riders were still congregating around us. Obviously from the face and body language; with a clear intent to attack at the least signal
. I utilized the opportunity created by the biker that drove out and zoomed off without blinking an eyelid.
As I was racing out of the scene, I noticed that some of the Riders still came after me. I then drove to a nearby nightclub where I saw neatly clad private security men, elegantly keeping watch around the building. I then drove towards their gate and the speed with which I approached them attracted their attention. They all rushed toward me.
I explained my predicament to them. Pronto, they all came out, poised for war with the approaching Okada riders. They were telling me, "oga relax, we will deal with them. They have been doing this to a lot of motorists. They will not succeed this time around."The security men then moved towards them with their cudgels and sticks. Having seen their match, the scoundrels turned back and disappeared to God knows where. That was how I survived being lynched, my car burnt by a gang of tyrannical, drug-infested, dirty layabouts masquerading as Okada riders who have been allowed to operate freely and lawlessly without respect to human feelings, law and order.
Who knows who may be their next victim in Lagos?
