Today has been particularly sober for me, because of the senseless killing of a hard-working, companionable Vanguard Reporter, Tordue Henry-Salem.
I am all the more saddened and especially pained that most of us who from the comfort of our parlors and offices peruse through newspaper headlines to keep up with the latest buzz in town, has not spared a moment of thought for this slain newshound. And the few amongst us who are quick to label news items as fake or unconfirmed, without acknowledging the resources expended in gathering and rendering the report, have all failed to notice that one of their objects of riddicule have been silenced with bestiality, and have carried on like its someone else’s cup tea.
It’s really true that a society is defined by it’s values. And our values are seemingly not on the high pedestal.
For had a Big Brother Housemate died on set, by now social media would be awash with condolences that may have hit a million mark. That’s who we are. frivolous, mundane! Why am I so piqued and hard-hitting, you all would wonder?
A particular experience I had in the hands of a detachment of mobile policemen along Ibafo, outskirts of Lagos, some 8 years ago, got me thinking.
On my way to cover the 80th birthday of the late Oba of Benin, Omo’ noba Erediauwa, as the then Head of Special Projects/Reports for National Daily, I ran into a formation of over 80 mobile policemen herding about a hundred suspected Boko Haram members into the bush for possible extra-judicial killing. As some tough cop would say, “waste them.”
The Boko Haram members were reportedly intercepted in two lorry-loads covered with agric produce, on a mission to possibly unleash mayhem on metropolitan Lagos and it’s suburbs..
As we approached the scene, the humanity in me overshadowed my journalism instinct, and I literally, instantly and thoughtlessly jumped out of the vehicle I was traveling with to confront the heavily armed policemen.
As I tried to record the incident with my phone, the officer who led the operation, probably an Assistant Superintendent of Police, pounced on me and tried to force me to join the lined up Boko Haram members, shouting, “you are a suspect, join them” as he pointed his gun at me, threatening to shoot. At that instant,I decided to risk everything to shout back at him, telling him “If you shoot me, if you kill me, you cannot hide it because my lawyer is aware of my location and I have spoken to Force Public Relations Officer, Frank Mba today.’ And that was how he lowered his gun and started raining abuses on me.
It took the intervention of the then Ogun State Commissioner of Police Commissioner, a northerner I can’t remember his name now but clearly a refined officer, after detaining me for ten hours in the scotching sun, not allowed an inch of space to get water or food, for me to be released.
As I reflect on the fate that has befallen this colleague, am just wondering, ‘it could have been your fate that unforgettable day at Ibafo.’
My hearty thoughts go out to the slain Vanguard Reporter and all journalists risking so much all around the world to hold people in power to account. Aluta Continua!
