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| Chief Anayo Nwosu |
I was
shocked to notice that only the accused persons pronounced guilty, his friends
and relations in court are saddened. In my own case, there were other parties
like the prosecution lawyers and those watching brief for the complainant. They
were joyously shouting as "the court pleases" so loudly and comical
enough to provoke or make someone with murderous tendencies pounce on them.
They bore the mocking face of Lucifer around the Calvary as the innocent one
was being crucified. The involuntary shrieks if my boss, also sentenced to 5
years in prison, that "I'm innocent ooo, I was just doing my job"
humoured them the more. At that moment, I was being distracted by the vision of
Mama Obiora, my late mum urging me to trust God.
"This
way", a uniformed prison warder in court motioned us to leave the dock.
They are always invited on the day of judgment of criminal matters. With that
motioning of hand, we had lost our freedom. But my wife wouldn't be shoved
aside. She kept on telling me "Baby m, we are in
it together, the God I serve shall vindicate you". She was like
Virgin Mary so distraught by the sentence passed on her son but remained
passionate.
My
mind went to my kids who were and still are at their prime and need me now to
guide them as they navigate their teenage maze. I wondered how they would cope
with the new normal; how they would survive the taunts of their classmates who
would abuse and tell them that their father was a convicted criminal. I also
was wondering how my wife would cope without me for five whole years. What
would happen to our sex lives? Would she, out of physiological need, give devil
a chance? I had a retinue of issues running riot in my head. But I masked it all.
I
could read the faces of the three managers and other junior colleagues working
with me. They were not only sad, they were weeping. We all could see my banking
career go up in flames. The regulatory authorities are clear that no convict or
ex-convict would ever work or continue to work in any financial institution. I
saw their pains. I too didn’t want to end up like that. I wanted to retire from
banking without blemish. I pulled myself together and looked intently at my
colleagues and told them “don’t lose hope, I shall be
vindicated on appeal.” I couldn’t tell whether they believed me or not.
They were just inconsolable and I know why. We worked like a family,
cross-fertilizing ourselves with requisite skills and general knowledge. I
didn’t boss them. We prided ourselves as the best performing team. I had
recommended all of them for promotion and here I was going to jail about the
time it mattered most. Their father “hen” in the bank, in the industry was gone
by an act of a court.
Outside
the court, the prosecution had assembled a score of print and electronic media
people to photograph or catch us on video on our way out of court into a
waiting Black Maria but they had to contend with Okey, my cousin and Maryrose,
my sister who beat them to their own game. We denied them the photo
opportunities. They should make do with their news without showing the world
our sorrows.
My
office colleagues in court contributed their jackets which were used to hood me
like Onede masquerade or Ojuju Calabar as I was being whisked out of the court
surrounded by an army of sympathizers. We didn’t go to the Black Maria but to
another location to wait for a VIP vehicle to take us to the prison.
The
Swiss-India man, my case mate, had told Jide and I that he learned from the
Internet that Kirikiri Maximum had better facilities than Ikoyi prison. I
started wondering whether the man had a premonition that we would be convicted.
And I was to later ask him why he had to research on prisons and he told me
that any criminal trial in Nigeria could go either way.
I was
to understand that not everyone is transported in Black Maria. You could be
taken to the prison in a more comfort air-conditioned vehicle if you can
"fuel it." The prosecution and their media party had to disperse after
waiting unending for me and my case mates to be brought to board the Black
Maria.
The
journey from Igbosere Lagos Island to Kirikiri Maximum Prison, Apapa Lagos was
longer than a period of conception to birth. It was a journey of a new birth. My
mind was on riot. I kept getting spiritual aspirin that it would end in my
favour but the reality was so pronounced when we got to the gate of the prison.
My wife, Okey and other family members had followed the prison vehicle
conveying my case mates and I nyash-by-nyash in their own vehicles.
The
prison gate was huge and iron cast. It is like a border between freedom and
incarceration. It was built is such way that those inside would have no doubt
that they are imprisoned. It's really the Nigeria's most secured prison. My
wife had to collect my wrist watch, wedding ring, phones and personal effects
after which they were asked to go and a part of me went with them.
"You're welcome sirs", said
the chief warder as we were being on-boarded. The chief warder is the prison
official in charge of placement of new prison inmates into their cells. He
governs the cells and is like the caretaker. He is a kind of general house
master in secondary school boarding house system.
"We have many types of cells namely: Banana Island, Old Ikoyi,
Magodo, Surulere, Agege and Ajegunle kinds. They all come with varying privileges
and comfort. It's your choice. But by mere looking, I think you people would
like the Banana Island. I will advise you pass this night in Banana Island cell,
then we can conclude our discussion the next morning by 10 am", he concluded with respect
garnished with positional authority.
Could
it be that Hell Fire is also segregated as the prisons? Would there be
apartments differentiated by Satan-set criteria. Jesus had already revealed
that Heaven is arranged in hierarchy when he was talking about the ranking of
John the Baptist in the Bible. In Matthew 11:11 Jesus said “I tell you the truth, of all who have ever lived, none is
greater than John the Baptist. Yet even the least person in the Kingdom of
Heaven is greater than he is!”
It was
about 7pm that same December 9, 2019 that we were taken to the Banana Island
block of cells. Upon arrival, we were introduced to the Kodo also called the
chairman of chairmen as the chairman of the Banana Island is regarded as the
Supreme Chairman or Kodo of the entire prison. The chairman, a lawyer jailed
for 5 years for dud cheque presentation was very nice. He gave us a well-furnished
room belonging to an inmate on hospital admission to pass the night. Three of
us were cramped in a 8ft by 6ft room. But before we were getting ready to
sleep, I noticed that the chairman had summoned a meeting of other inmates
which I later learnt was to determine how much enrolment fee we were to pay.
They were to ask us to join them in the meeting.
"Hello guys, sorry for your ordeal. You're welcome to our
block. You are required to tell us your offence, your sentence, your nativity
and profession", the
chairman said with a business face. When it was my turn to talk, I started by
saying that I was innocent, that "I only sold a
product approved by my employers only for one of the investors to complain to
the anti-corruption agency who took us to court and I was surprised to find
myself here".
Just
before I was about to finish my presentation, one of the inmates laughed out
loud and said that "everybody is innocent
here". And I didn’t find that funny. He was mocking me. I then just
made my presentation brief and started licking my wound agonizingly in private.
"Any of you that doesn't want to pay the amount we have just
told you as the joining fee would have to leave in the morning for another cell
he can afford. We use the funds we collect to maintain the amenities here. You
must indicate your interest to stay or to leave tomorrow. When you choose to
stay, you must pay up before three days grace elapses. We shall show you vacant
rooms in the morning. I must warn you that the rooms need some works to make
them comfortable. We have in-house electricians, tilers and carpenters. I
advise you carry me along in price negotiation otherwise they will fleece you
because they know that you are new and desperate. I also enjoin you to meet
your obligations to the chief warder for posting you here otherwise you will be
in soup. You could ask for little time to perform. He would understand", the chairman said without
ambiguity.
The
amounts required by the two parties are enough to buy a good tokunbo car. Back
to our holding room, I shared the bed with Ashok, the Swiss-Indian man while
Jide laid on a matrass on the floor. While Jide and I were having a sleepless
night, the 68 years old Ashok was sleeping like a baby. I was enranged. I had
to wake him up. He was the owner of the company the bank raised the capital
for. The raised funds were transferred to his company’s account. I didn't ask
for, receive or retain any proceed of the offer. I felt that I was in the
prison because I sold his company’s shares to someone who could not tolerate
losses.
"Ashok,
you can't be sleeping while I'm awake", told him with a mild nudge with my
elbow. And he woke saying "Mr. Anayo, please allow
me to sleep a little". I pitied him. He is an old man. I just left
the bed and went to ask the Kodo or the chairman to show me the vacant rooms
available and he did. I made a choice. I was to learn that many notable
Nigerians including a past head of state and a vice-president stayed in that
room I chose. I didn’t have this inkling when I made my choice. I begged the
chairman to engage all the artisans to fix the room for me. I needed a space to
pray, read and write. I wanted my privacy too. And that was achieved in two
days and I became a full inmate with an address.
The
next morning, the news broke that three rich and powerful inmates had joined
the prison community. Everyone, from warder to the very poor prisoners, who
form themselves into unrelenting begging party that determined to have a bite
from the stolen money. On my way to see my visitors the next day, I noticed two
dozens of poor prisoners, many of who must have forgotten how the outside world
looked like, besieged and surrounded me asking that I help them exactly the way
Lagos Island area boys besiege a man whose car had stopped in Eko Bridge.
"Palle, please help us na", they kept shouting. "You will never die in prison, if you help us God will
help you, your children will never enter prison", they kept on
buzzing into my ears until I entered the admin block to receive my guests. They
would wait patiently and follow me or anyone else from my cell saying the same
thing. Give them money and watch the kind of fight I last saw when I was
feeding my brother's poultry.
On one
occasion, I couldn't give the begging party money and I got what I didn't
expect. "Palle Anayo, what we are begging you is
chopping money nothing more. You think we don't know how much you stole? It's
₦855million for your information", a brave boy named Hakeem said. I
quickly dashed to my block and narrated my embarrassing encounter to my fellow
privileged inmates. The head of boys or hardened criminals was invited and he
fished out the boy who insulted me to flog him to my pleasure but I had to stop
him. I explained to the now calmed boy that I didn't steal any ₦855million. I
gifted him ₦200 and begged that he be set free. I later became friendly with
the guy who told me that his hand was disfigured as he attempted to steal an
electric transformer when suddenly NEPA brought light. I ensured that Hakeem
never lacked any provision till I was released.
I was
wondering how Hakeem found out how much he accused me of stealing. I didn't
have to wait for so long. JB, a fellow Banana Island inmate told me that once a
prisoner was received into Kirikiri that older inmates would use their phones
to launch into Internet for news on their offences and judgment. Phones are
forbidden in the prisons in Nigeria but almost 5 out of 10 prison inmates have
a phone. If you ask me how the phones enter the prisons then I will ask you how
contrabands cross our Nigerian borders.
Few
days after I packed into my room, in the night and after praying my Rosary and
Prayer to Guardian Angel, I had a dream. I dreamt that God sent a drone
operated by angels to Kirikiri Prison. The drone landed in front of my cell
block. The angel of the Lord called me out and led me into the passenger drone
and lifted me swiftly up to 30,000 metres above the ground and we were about to
fly out, a team of prison armed squad raised their guns to shoot down the
drone, I heard the angel issue a loud warning, “touch
not my anointed and do my prophet no harm”, and I was flown to my house.
I told
this dream to my fellow inmates and to the DCP or the man in charge of the
prison who became my personal friend and they all laughed it off. Dee Sam, a
fellow inmate and a friend I made in the prison, would sometimes jokingly say
to me “touch not my anointed” and would jokingly
ask him “why not tap into my impeding miracle” and
he would say “you cannot leave here without me”.
Dee
Sam, my friend that believed plus two of my case mates: Ashok the Swiss-Indian
and Jide and I were freed the same day. Co-incidentally, four of us were
admitted to the prison the same day. Dee Sam had arrived the prison three days
earlier but could not be formerly admitted until few days later. Who says that
miracles are not real?
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