I have always lauded myself for treading the path of caution, and I try as much as possible to avoid being in any compromising situation. Accusations and allegations are bound to be thrown at us in life, but they are often not insurmountable and very quickly fade or are forgotten. Most times, they are considered the downs of life that are essential ingredients and checkers for the fullness of life.
Some events, however, are spectacular and leave an indelible mark for memory to visit. I will thus be sharing a particular scenario in which I was accused of something I did not do.
It was 2005, and the internet was gradually becoming more prominent in society. I was not left out of the excitement, as it was easy to meet friends on Facebook and other sites (including dating sites—youthful exuberance maybe). I was usually eager to visit the internet café to spend some money surfing the net. Here in Ilorin, we would buy tickets for the number of minutes or hours we intended spending on the internet. Yahoo Messenger also reigned during that period, and I even had a virtual Caucasian lover named "xyz" that always made me look forward to visiting the internet café.
On that fateful afternoon, I had returned home the previous day for the holiday from the boarding high school I attended in another state. I walked into the "SYSTEMS CAFÉ" in my neighborhood and bought a ticket to surf the net. There were rolls of other computers, and people came in to equally surf the internet by buying tickets. If you had your laptop, you could also connect to the internet with the ticket. I had yet to exhaust my ticket when four (4) uniformed and non-uniformed armed policemen barged into the café. The entrance door was immediately locked, and every customer was asked to come forward for a search. I was about fifteen years old, and I did not imagine myself having a police case or having to spend any day in a police cell.
Apparently a mobile phone (which was evolving and hard to come by) was missing, and a lady, presumed to be the owner, had either lost it in the same café I was in or had it stolen from her there.
After about six of us (males) in the café were searched (including the café receptionist), the policemen were not satisfied and tagged us as "suspects." I tried to explain to them that I knew nothing about the missing phone, but they wouldn't bulge (how many is my body that I should argue with armed policemen?). The café was shut, and we were all led into their rickety police van. My morale was dampened, and fear enveloped me. I wondered if I could reach my parents to have a bail even though I had no means of contacting them because I had no phone.
We were taken to F division, and we all sat behind the counter on a wooden slab shaped as a seat, thankfully without cuffs. Further interrogations began, and each of us narrated what we knew about the missing phone (I practically had no inclination about the missing phone).
Heaven smiled on me after about an hour of us arriving at the police station. The owner of the café had been contacted, and he was gracious enough to present himself quickly at the station. His entry to the station was equally grand, and I eventually got to know he was a senator of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. It took him less than five minutes before he asked the police officers to release us while he handled the matter. We were released immediately, and I hastily began my journey back home with gratitude for vindication. My legs seemed to walk faster than my brain that very day as I navigated several shortcuts that led to my house.
The three to four hours I spent outside of the comfort of my house were an event I could not disclose to my family. That was the last time I visited the café, and till that day, the building still gives me nostalgia for my narrow escape from that ordeal.
Thank you for reading. I would love to have your comments and contributions. 🤗
