‘Missiles’ in Journalism: My Ordeal

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It’s an eyesore as I was almost lynched by some angry motorcyclists along Mile-2 overhead bridge today.

As a journalist who is obligated to bring up-to-date account of story without prejudice, I dashed to cover the clash between commercial motorcyclists popularly known as ‘Okada’ riders and the yellow bus drivers (Danfo) in the Mile-2 area of Lagos.

Having boarded a bus from Oshodi to Mile-2, I took my phone surfing through the web for news but was not really comfortable because of the hectic traffic on the road. On getting to Ilasa, we sighted some guys pelting stones at drivers plying through the Oshodi-Mile2 road. 

On reaching the venue, we had a firsthand experience of the story as our driver had to quickly reverse to avoid the attack by these unscrupulous elements protesting the death of their colleague allegedly stabbed to death.

As someone who is inquisitive and always having nose for news, I decided to go back to the place where the incident happened.

On getting there, I met the head of the riders calming them to avoid further breakdown of law and order in the area. 

While speaking to me, he confirmed the death of the rider that’s stabbed and also narrated how the whole story started, he said; “At about 12noon, an okada rider which is from the Northern part of the country was stabbed by an agbero (Danfo driver) at his neck side and immediately, he died. As I speak to you, the murderer has been taken to Signals Barrack, Mile-2.

“So, we’re trying to contact the police that has the authority of this jurisdiction and we want the Nigerian Army to hand over the culprit to them for proper arrest and further prosecution. We are here to calm our people (okada riders) down so as to guide against further violence because if things are not brought under control, many innocent lives would be loss in the process.”

On hearing his side of the story, I moved on with my investigation but never knew some of the riders had the intention to launch an attack on me because they assumed I was working against them. Before I could say ‘Jack Jackson’, I had about scores mobbing me without waiting for my explanation but all thanks to Mohammed, the head of the riders who rescued me from the hands of these ‘lions’. A day I would never forget in the journey of my journalistic quest.

– Arogbonlo Israel writes from Lagos


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