Nigerians And Police Checkpoints —Kanayo Esinulo   

Kanayo-Esinulo

Each time I listen to the Chief Spokesman of the Nigeria Police Force, Deputy Commissioner  Emmanuel Ojukwu, on radio or watch him on television defending or rationalising what his men  do at police checkpoints along our highways and other roads across the country, I feel  really sorry for him. This is because, this gentleman officer is either unaware of, or  possibly grossly misinformed about, what commuters go through daily in the hands of his men  at the uncountable checkpoints and at our police stations. These policemen often behave as  if their salaries have been deposited with drivers who must instalmentally pay them as they  get to checkpoints.

They fly all the time to escape the discomfort of riding on badly maintained federal  highways and, perhaps, to avoid the many risks associated with road journeys in Nigeria –  one of which is accidental discharge of bullets from the policeman’s gun at checkpoints.  Perhaps, one of the ways that police leadership can know what transpires at police  checkpoints, assuming they don’t know already, is to find time and patience to use our  roads, certainly not in their uniforms or in convoys but disguised as ordinary Nigerians,  and if they can withstand the heat should they take public transport. This way, police  authorities will get an inkling of what drivers are subjected to daily at police checkpoints  across the country. And I should add, even in passing, that elements of the Federal Road  Safety Corps have joined in this disturbing scandal.

I travel quite a bit by road within this country, both in a car driving and in public  transport. Those who use what has come to be known in Nigeria as ‘luxury buses’ may not see  or appreciate what we are talking about here. Luxury bus drivers enjoy immunity or exemption  from the daily harassment and extortion that ‘lesser drivers’ are subjected to by the police  and FRSC officers on our roads. We are told that the police are there to perform security  duties, but they do more than just that, unfortunately. Shouldn’t I also add that men posted  to these checkpoints seem to be specially selected – a case of the right men for the job. I  was stopped once at a checkpoint along the Ogun State stretch on our way to Benin City for a  conference. I had two Ghanaian journalists in the car who were here to cover the event.  “What are the policemen looking for precisely? I notice that you show them a heap of papers  at each stop,”one of them asked me. “Car documents and my driver’s licence,” I answered.  “And you have to show them these papers at every checkpoint? And why are they so many along  the same stretch of road?” The second one asked me. “We are still going to encounter more as  we drive along,” was my response. By the time we got to Benin City, their shock had changed  to sympathy for Nigerian road users. And it was difficult not to feel that way.

What my Ghanaian colleagues did not know, and I deliberately withheld that, was that while  the policemen would allow us proceed on our journey without demanding that we “drop  something for the boys for pure water” or insist that we “park well” if they want to be  difficult, commercial bus and taxi drivers are not as lucky. Their menace is substantially  reduced in their dealings with private cars, for obvious reasons. It was fascinating to me,  therefore, that someone like Olisa Agbokoba, an eminent lawyer and human rights advocate in  Nigeria, shared his own experiences with the public in a recent television interview.  Agbakoba said what we all know about these checkpoints: that with a N200 note, any criminal  could easily pass through them, even with dead bodies in the boot of his vehicle. And he was  not exaggerating. The lawyer said he counted so many police checkpoints between the  South-East and South-South. I wouldn’t know which route or axis Agbakoba took on his trip,  but on a journey recently from Enugu––whose airport is closed for repairs––to Port Harcourt  to catch a flight, I counted over 48 police and FRSC checkpoints along the route. The latter  had six beats, but its men did not seem to be carrying out any road safety duties.

What transpires at police stations across the country represents another sordid story. It is  unbelievable how complaints of a crime committed or about to be committed are turned into  money spinning business by desk officers at police stations. Within a short time and space,  the informant/complainant becomes the suspect and the accused. And if the complainant  insists on seeing a senior officer who could get these men to do their job properly and  promptly, you are told that “oga has closed for the day” or “he is attending a meeting with  the Commissioner, and I no sure if him go come back today”. What that means, in effect, is  that you are shut out of the reach of his superior and you are left with no other option but  to deal with a gang that has set a daily financial target for themselves. If the  litigant/complainant understands the name of the game and the body language of the men on  duty, things become a lot easier and smoother. The relevant complaint forms would begin to  appear from nowhere. If you have come to bail someone, there is a particular brand of music  that you are expected to dance to. It is never for free.

But before it begins to sound as if nothing good and dignifying can come out of our police  force, let me quickly add that there are also many decent and courteous police officers and  men who take honour and integrity to heart, and seriously. And I have been privileged to  meet and interact with some of these incredibly polished policemen. In fact, I met one  recently at the Ibafo Police Station in Ogun State, DPO Gbenga, who showed so much courtesy,  respect and understanding to my friend when we went to bail a houseboy who somehow got  trapped in a domestic quarrel within a household he worked for. Half way into our  explanations, Gbenga cut us short, ordered that the young man be brought out of cell,  cautioned and counselled him and, to our joy and amazement released him to us. I am sure  there are so many Gbengas in our police force.

Yes, as Deputy Commissioner Emmanuel Ojukwu does his job from Abuja, defending and  rationalising the conduct of his men – a tough job I must admit – he should find time and  take a trip, not by air, but on road to Lagos and then to Onitsha, Owerri and Port Harcourt,  preferably without his police uniform on. By the time he passes through Ogun State (there  are so many checkpoints there) and moves on to Edo and Delta states, and then into the  South-East and South-South, he would have seen enough that would make him feel really  disturbed. It will confirm our rampant complaints, often dismissed as bad belle by some  police chiefs. Emma would count no less than 117 police checkpoints along this route. If he  tries to visit Uyo from Port Harcourt via Ogoni and Ikot Abasi, he would be simply amazed.  He would then accept that the report as presented by Mr. Guttschss of the Human Rights Watch  was neither exaggerated nor harsh. Neither is this piece.