To Opambata Police Station near Alapere where Baba Lekki was engaged in a battle of will and wits to free Okon and a feral Rastafarian calling himself Jah Jamaica over subversive activities on Democracy Day. The sparse demonstration ended in brisk dispersal and in tears and teargas as the police clinically steamrolled the protesters, forcing a few of them to sit on the wet grass.
Democracy Day began on a tense and uneasy note with police issuing stern orders to troublemakers to keep off the street. It was a strange way to celebrate democracy, with an ill-tempered law enforcement agency and threats of incarceration hanging ominously in the air. But then Oxymoron has become the nation’s second name.
The tense truce held at first with the streets eerily deserted by the wise and the wary. Except for the foolhardy motorist, vehicular movement was almost zero. All of a sudden, hell was let loose around the Ogudu intersection. A stocky, wild-eyed man built like a Soviet-era tank and with humongous dreadlocks to match began screaming and pointing in the direction of the island.
“Jah, Jah, dem alootin, dem aburning and dem law ashootin. No jesterin, no jesterin. Dem law fire dem gas and dem put Montego peppa for mon eye”, he wailed as he rubbed his eyes.
“Ha, orisirisi for this country. What happened, what happened?” a woman asked excitedly from the safe balcony.
“Jah, mon sista, dem policeman come use voodoo for man. I come fall and I com roll. As I come rise, me I come run for dem devil man”, he chanted breathlessly as he ran headlong into the crowd of protesters that had materialized around Alapere where the police promptly impounded him. In Okon’s case, he had lied to Mama Igosun that he was heading for Amukoko, where a woman was reputedly selling crocodile meat.
“Buy me some wild goat milk. But if na lie you dey tell you no go return alive”, the old woman cursed at his heels. True enough, Okon was apprehended as an undesirable element loitering about a brothel with state subversion in mind. He was later brought in as a hostage to Alapere and made to sit on the wet grass like other confederates.
At the Opambata Police Station, Baba Lekki opened cautiously and without his usual legal razzmatazz. The bluff and genial desk sergeant hailed him as a great patriot who had done a lot for the country without asking for a penny.
“Thank you. But the fellow you are detaining is not even a Nigerian”, Baba Lekki noted.
“I know. So why is he here causing trouble? Is Jamaica better than Nigeria?” the sergeant asked.
“I know, but injustice everywhere is injustice somewhere”, Baba Lekki responded.
“Baba, you see if not for this your human rights nonsense, we will send this fool back to Jamaica floating on Ejinrin Lagoon”, the sergeant shouted as he ordered Jah Jamaica and Okon to be brought out of the cell. Okon was giggling while the Rasta babbled insensate nonsense.
“What is your name?” the sergeant demanded.
“ Ishmael Teferi Ben-Gurion”, the wild man responded poker-faced.
“Is that why you should be rioting in Lagos?” the sergeant screamed.
“Jah, Jah, officer be reasonable, how man go riotin for Lagos when I am alreading alootin for Ojota?” the Rastafarian demanded.
“Baba, let me tell you this fool was caught on secret police tape speaking perfect Yoruba”, the sergeant shouted. “His name is Yekinni Agbomabiwon.”
“Ngbo? O ti oo?” Baba Lekki screamed. At this point, the Rasta leapt clean through the window and made good his escape.
The Nation