VULNERABLE, VIOLATED, VEXED…

Trapped. I am not sure I can explain the feeling I had that afternoon. It was a bit of an oxymoron… I was trapped in the outdoors! Traffic before and after our car was really as far as the eyes could see. I thought nothing of it. I am happy to keep busy on my phone playing Wordscape, updating Facebook, choosing and cleaning up pictures for Instagram, looking for the wittiest retorts for Twitter… Never bored in traffic. Not anymore.

However, excitement took a whole new meaning when the first explosion happened. I looked up and around to know whose car had been hit. (You never really expect that it could be you, right?) I guess seeing those ugly, black, dusty and sinewed hands reaching into my car totally set me off! And remember, we were trapped! I may have yelled, “Jesus!” a few times but I remember that I got temporarily incensed, combative and sore vexed when they reached for my bag! The explosion was the back window just behind Ibrahim. I struggled. Yes, I dared… (trust me I wasn’t thinking. The heroine act was purely instinctive) A second explosion soon “wired my brain right”. My window had now been smashed too… We were trapped by about 6 scraggly, rude, daring, menacing ruffians.

Thinking back to that rainy Saturday afternoon, I can still remember the trepidation… They were gods unto themselves! They strolled back and forth confidently. (We were still trapped on all 4 sides for many long minutes in traffic) They came back to the car 3 times after the bag and roared new demands! “Your phone, oya!!!!” “Your wedding rings, quickly!“ “Oya bring dat bangle kpakpa!!” It could have gone on forever… the violation. I was never going to fight them… How could I? …and neither were the drivers and passengers in the neighbouring cars. (They all pretended not to see what was happening). 

I am vexed. I am wondering how we got here. I am thinking how much worse this will get. I am wondering if some self-protection or/and ammunition may have changed the story? A taser gun perhaps? Tear gas, even. Something that would have made us less vulnerable. Something that would have helped communicate a bit of fear into their Tramadol-ridden bodies! A little “community-led” action to assist the Oshodi Bridge police post.

I am constantly relieving unpleasant nightmares where grubby black hands are grabbing me from all sides. I am nursing a hatred, that is strange to me, for a nation that denies its people a life. I am incurring many unforeseen expenses… and living in fear of the hands handling my very personal effects. Violated…