Men in Black

The vehicle stopped abruptly. We had barely passed Ore. I was travelling to Lagos, from Benin. I did not understand what was happening. Why would we stop at the middle of the road?

“Everybody come down!” the men shouted. All my innocently spurred ignorance were replaced with automatic giddiness. Was I being robbed? My heart skipped.


The men, dressed in black jean, black shoes and a pair of dark glasses. Numbering about eight. They were armed to the teeth. Why would they be armed to such extent just to rob a bus on its way to Lagos? At least, these weapons were a total waste of resources. Especially in this Buhari economy.

‘My android phone’, I screamed silently. Samsung Galaxy X6, they called it. The phone was just three days old. I was still in the melancholic state of having to lose my phone when I remembered my laptop. My Apple laptop. I decided to race into the thick forest in front of me, not minding the consequences. Maybe they wouldn’t open fire, I thought.

But another ‘thought’ advised to bargain with the Men in Black.

Bargain? Was this a joke? Some funny thoughts usually race through our mind in the face of a very serious situation.

I placed my face on the ground as if my life depended on it. And it did depend on it. I raised my head, only a little; few seconds after they smashed the side mirror of another car, whose driver did not obey them quickly enough. I saw the smashed side mirror lay on the tarred road, lifeless. They meant business. They started searching our bags and luggage. I consoled myself, they may take the laptop but the money, about twenty five thousand naira given to me by my uncle, safely kept in my pockets would suffice my emotions to healing faster. Surely, I was not travelling light. I got the cash yesterday from Uncle Fergor, I could not go to the bank. Banks don’t open on Saturdays.

Soon, one of Men in Black started searching the passengers. This didn’t look good. I started re-considering the possibility of dashing into the forest; they could have my laptop while I escape with my phone and the money. I noticed our driver, the driver of our bus not lying on the ground. He was standing majestically beside one of the men, discussing in low tones. Planned work. It must be planned work. I remembered how Mama Nkechi used to tell Papa of how bus drivers made arrangements with armed robbers to rob passengers. I regretted entering this vehicle by the road side. It was cheaper and faster but the risk were too high. I had ignored all the inner warnings that told me to use other organized parks. I felt bitter and sad about my decision to enter a bus not registered in a park.

One of the men whose bald head shone like a reflecting surface caught me spying at them. He marched in my direction, cocking his gun on the way. I hastily returned my face on the tarred road, with my forehead and lips hitting the hard soured surface. I said a quick prayer. I wished I could explain to this bald man coming, how I have been obedient to his command, how surprised I was that our driver had played us, how this was my first robbery experience and how more obedient I was than this other passenger who kept on raining curses on them.

This piece is a fictionalized account of a true life story. The characters used herein are entirely fictitious. Any similarities to real persons living or dead is coincidental. 

© Ezekiel Efeobhokhan
600 pharmacy UNIBEN

Keep a date with KALLIGRAPHY™ every weekend.
For comments and reactions to this post; 08024994798 (SMS and Whatsapp only)

Contact Kalligraphy™ via;
Email: ezekielefeobhokhan@yahoo.com
Whatsapp: +2348024994798
Twitter: @ezekielosahon
BBM: 5607F768
Visit KALLIGRAPHY™ at www.ezekieltrisler.blogspot.com
Like our Facebook page m.facebook.com/ezekieltrisler