By By Ebenezer Adurokiya
I left Ibadan around 9:00 a.m. last Tuesday, after buying fuel and checking my tyres along the Ibadan-Lagos Expressway. I had reassured myself earlier that I nor dey rush!
The road from Idi-Ayunre to Ago-Iwoye is a pure nightmare. One has to wonder why a critical artery linking two major South-Western states of such great history has been abandoned to such a deplorable fate. Those two governors are in urgent need of deliverance! Don’t remind me it’s a federal road! It is an absolute shame that the duo cannot maintain this single, lasting legacy of the inimitable sage, Chief Obafemi Awolowo.
To break the solitude, I offered a lift to a man heading to Ago-Iwoye. Together, we manoeuvred through wide-mouthed, rocky gullies. Over time, locals have deposited heavy stones onto the marshy, sinking sections of the road—a well-intentioned but tyre-unfriendly solution.
Heading towards Ijebu-Mushin and the Sagamu-Benin-Ore Expressway, I’d planned to pick up another passenger for company, but found no one. The sole man I spotted, who was clearly looking for a lift, had already climbed into an articulated truck from a popular cement company.
So, still alone, I maintained a modest speed, oscillating between 80 and 100 km/h. The movement was relatively smooth on the Ogun State axis, primarily because a better part of that road is failing, or has already completely failed. Some commercial vehicles heading to Ore were brazenly sharing the lane with oncoming traffic. By just past noon, I was in Ore.
Here, the security agencies—the Nigeria Police and the latest nightmare on our roads, the shameless extortionists of the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC)—had formed a long chain of roadblocks at the Ogun/Ondo state boundary. While money was freely changing hands between these khaki-clad officials and commercial drivers, the latter, in their mournful black uniforms, have now resorted to panhandling private vehicle owners.
“Oga, our journalist, wetin you bring for us?” one of the older ones muttered, despite spotting the NUJ sticker on my windscreen!
Along the Ore-Benin highway, I finally succumbed along the Ofosu roadblock. After ‘passing’ his provocative remarks, a cop ordered me to park!!! I remained calm when he retorted with a military command: “Come out; open your boot! You bloody journalists!” To his chagrin, and with a philosophical calmness, I did exactly as he ordered. After his inspection, he made a few more scathing comments. I simply smiled and asked if I could continue my journey. He then smiled back and said, “You’re a good man. I thought you’d get angry! Go well.” I thanked him, got in, started the car, and as I was about to leave, I decided to call his attention with my horn and handed him a naira note. Perplexed, he prayed for me.
At Ore, though I’m not in the habit of picking up passengers to offset fuel costs, I would have taken one for company. But none were in sight, and I eschew any agbero wahala. So from Ore, I was still alone, windows up, with gospel tunes from the car’s Android stereo for company.
I navigated past the notorious Ovia River, which had reportedly claimed lives just two days before my journey on September 30th. The section of the bridge towards Benin is already a write-off, though some repairs are liminally ongoing. It must be said: a greater portion of the Ore-Benin highway has failed. The very spots where our law enforcers mount their roadblocks have been completely ruined by the constant stopping and starting. Consequently, commercial drivers now routinely drive against oncoming traffic to avoid them. This is the new, deadly pastime for drivers of those popular transport companies.
Far from the Ovia River, I wasn’t feeling groggy. Otherwise, yours sincerely would have simply pulled over. Perhaps I was nursing some unconscious fatigue; just the previous Saturday, I had taken my daughter through the nightmarish Oyo-Ogbomoso road back to her school. Two trips to and from Ibadan and Ogbomoso are no small feat! The owner of Oyo should engage in a supremacy battle with the gullies between Ibadan and Oyo, rather than with fellow royalties in Yorubaland!
Back to my trip to Warri. It was around 1:45 p.m. My air conditioner was on, and the stereo was playing. Some kilometres from the Ovia River, I thought I was still conscious. Perhaps I wasn’t. But in the twinkle of an eye, after descending a hill and beginning to ascend another, I had veered into the bush. I went blank!!
The path created into the woods by the vehicle
In an instant, I gained full consciousness, but it was too late. I was about 50 metres into the bush and heading straight for an uncompleted building when my senses fully returned. By divine providence, I was able to slam on the brakes just a step or two from the structure.
It was then I truly understood what it means to be in an accident on a long-distance drive. I have often passed spots where vehicles, especially articulated trucks, had swerved into the woods, plunged into ditches, or rammed trees. I would always tell my companies it was nothing but fatigue leading to a second of unconsciousness. That day, I knew better.
Only God can explain how I and my car escaped completely unhurt at Iwu. Instead of ramming into two articulated trucks parked by the roadside, my car flew into the woods directly in front of the second truck! The owners of the trucks were cooling off in a nearby local restaurant when they beheld the movie unfolding before their eyes. Shocked to see me emerge from the car alive and unhurt, roadside hustlers swooped on me to behold the wonder—an accident they believed would have left family members and well-wishers wailing.
The hand of God is real. Why didn’t I plunge into the Ovia River? Why didn’t I ram the two trucks? Why didn’t I hit the uncompleted building? Why that very hilly spot? As I switched off the car and stepped out to check for damage, I saw, right under the passenger-side tyre, a medium-sized snake writhing in pain. I had obviously braked, after suddenly gaining consciousness and realising that I was about to ram the uncompleted building. The impact of the brake about two footsteps shy of the wall, crushed the innocent creature, which was simply having a nice time in its natural habitat.
In my attempt to wriggle out of the woods, the car wouldn’t start. The engine had narrowly escaped what would have been a catastrophic damage. With the help of Osas, a roadside mechanic, who was alerted about the commotion and came to help, the vehicle started. I reversed back to the highway, fixed the dislodged palates, and headed towards Benin by about 4:30 p.m.
As I approached the Benin bypass near Oluku, I found a road devoid of traffic. Under the flyover bridge was a deep gully so severe that not even articulated trucks would attempt it. Borrowing myself some sense, I reversed and headed into Benin town—a route I was trying to avoid, as I didn’t know how to link up to the Sapele road to Warri. I eventually found myself on Akpoba Road, stopped, and called a friend who led me to the NUJ Press Centre, where I passed the night before continuing my journey on Wednesday.
Navigating my way out of Benin was even more nightmarish. My conclusion about Nigeria and Nigerians is that we are not normal. From Benin City to under that flyover is a jungle of sorts. It’s survival of the fittest among trucks, cars, and buses! I wept. The same disgraceful scene repeats itself at Ologbo, Oghara, Sapele, and perhaps the worst of all, Merciland, upon entering the so-called oil-rich Warri! It is the most shameful way to introduce an oil city. Our leaders are not normal. And they ply these life-threatening gullies every day! They say the Benin-Warri highway is a Federal Government road. But it is the Deltans and non-Deltans who reap the bitter harvest of our rudderless leaders’ gross ineptitude.
I only started driving to Warri this February. The car was used by my late wife in Ibadan, as she and the children needed it more than I did. After her passing last November, I was advised not to let it rot in our garage, so I began driving it to my workplace in Warri. After that first trip in February, I returned to Ibadan for Easter in April, but not before the gullies at Ologbo destroyed the engine mount. In my ignorance then, the incident damaged the engine, and I spent the Easter holiday stranded on the road. In fact, I finally left the Oil-C junction along the Benin bypass, where it was fixed, on Easter Monday.
The incident of last Tuesday near Benin was my first in over ten years of driving long distances. Driving on Nigerian roads has obviously become a war! If you are not prepared for battle, please do not attempt long distances.
I salute all commercial drivers across Nigeria! They are the true heroes in an abnormal country. From my daily experience, the primary reason for hiked transport fares isn’t just fuel, but the regular and compulsory fixing and replacement of car parts after every single trip.
I love adventures! I have a great deposit of courage even in adversity. I fear less! But two days before this journey, I had an unusual inner anxiety. I felt empty, lacking in courage. I prayed. I whispered my fears to Mummy Goodness, my dependable sister and neighbour. On Monday night, while preparing, I was nervous. But what would I be doing in Ibadan when my beat as a journalist is in Delta? After all, my daughter had returned to school.
My escape is a direct message that God is still in the business of showing mercy even to the undeserved! He delivered me from the fangs of death ten months and four days after the departure of my better half! Thank you, Lord, for not making DideOluwa an orphan at 15.
Thank you, Jesus Christ for giving me wings to escape the snare of the fowler! Indeed, what God cannot do does not exist!
NB: I had removed the vehicle before making the video. The shock wouldn’t make me remember to do the video before removing the vehicle.
Ebenezer Adurokiya writes from Warri.
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