An Abuja based journalist, Gimba Kakanda has narrated why he thinks the federal capital territory is no longer safe. Read his rather funny experience below.
”You know Abuja is no longer safe. And here’s my own paralyzing experience. Issa thread!
I left a friend’s place in Asokoro around 3 AM, and, quite unusually, noticed a car trailing. The driver honked, perhaps asking me to give way. I slowed down, expecting it to overtake. It didn’t. Then it began to accelerate the moment I did. That was the first sign of danger.
I had been a night crawler and often confused whenever I read narratives of Abuja as a place unsafe, quietly dismissing them as exaggeration or paranoia. But I wasn’t going to take chances this night. No be me una go carry trend hashtag!
I would’ve been a Formula 1 athlete if I were born in a place with functional health facilities, and that you may agree with at the end of this horror. I was initially somewhat amused by this opportunity to show somebody’s child what the rear light of a certain car looked like.
Okay, it’s not a funny encounter. But I didn’t exactly panic until the stalker began to chase after me, going as fast as I was, and it’s the point I appreciated the presence of Police checkpoints I had likened to normalized begging in the city. Only this time I couldn’t find any.
I took the road heading to Central Area from AYA. I was driving fast, he chased. I searched for my phone to get our gate-man to leave the gate open and get people to wait outside, but there’s no phone in sight. It must’ve fallen under the seat I thought. I groped for it. Nothing.
Then my chaser began to honk the horn, leaving me even more confused. Was he expecting me to stop? Really? Nice try, kidnapper. But I sped on, thanking Abuja for at least its good network of roads in spite of the malfunctioning street-lamps.
Soon we were in a drag race along Shehu Yar’adua Way. I drove at a speed the car could somersault if I made a sudden turn, and yet our distance apart wasn’t much. Again there were no police at the check-points around Life Camp round-about and the traffic lights to the district.
My place is on a close, so I know it’s a trap to head there without any plan. I didn’t think hard for what crossed my mind. I drove to the house of a neigbour that had armed soldiers as guards, honked and parked. They rushed out bearing arms. And then came my chaser. What a fool!
Oh, wait a minute. I recognized the chaser’s car. It’s my host in Asokoro, and then the soldiers barked for the reason I was there. “There’s a mistake somewhere,” I said. “I thought I was being chased by…” I pointed to the chaser, my friend.
He was laughing. Then another soldier joined while I was explaining, and recognized me as a neighbour. He asked his colleagues to let us go. My friend was actually coming to deliver my phone. I left it on the couch in his place. And he was laughing as he passed it to me.
Full time from Asokoro: Gimba Kakanda 0: 10 His Friend. You don’t trust people in this period where internal security has become a very big issue. But don’t you know your friend’s car?
Haha. He got me really bad, but my anger meant that he would never ever try such silly prank with me again. I couldn’t tell his car, it was dark and the headlight was blinding.
Haba kakanda gberi! When in danger use your no 6. Asokoro to police hq. Guards brigade hq, Niger barracks etc. Alhamdulillah ka tsira!
As a brother I’ll advise to never try that. They will open fire on you before your racing car even gets to their spot!”