An encounter with Lagos ‘area boys’

“Oga, owo wa da, wey our money?” The hemp-smoking, scruffy-looking street urchins aka ‘Alaye Boys’ emerged from the busy bus stop and swarmed car. They looked ferocious, their appearance scary. One had a deep scar on the right side of his head. Another had one ear missing. A short one walked with a limp; an array of missing front teeth gave him a grotesque look. All of them bore visible scars of a tough and violent street life.

“Which money, alaye commot for here, you keep money for my hand?” I retorted as I stood my ground as a crowd gathered.

They were undeterred as more threats followed. The short one with the missing front teeth limped to my side of the road and beckoned to another named Qudus, who looked like the enforcer. His biceps and massive chest could rival those of any professional boxer. He was half-naked except for his sagging shorts. His bulging muscles and guttural voice were tools of intimidation.

“E be like say you dey mad abi” Qudus, barked at me, “We go break your windscreen now” Abi Ogun wan kill you” They become more aggressive as they surrounded my car on the busy Lekki- Epe Expressway. In the midst of the siege, I maintained the tough guy appearance.

But it didn’t last long.

It was a sunny Lagos afternoon in early October. I had left home for my normal school run at about 2pm when I perceived a smell inside the car. I immediately switched off the air-conditioning and wound down the windows to properly assess the situation. When I looked towards the bonnet, I saw black smoke filtering through the opening close to the windscreen. Then I knew something was wrong. I switched on my hazard lights and negotiated my way out of the busy traffic to a lay-by, but not without impatient Lagos motorists cursing me out for obstructing the flow of traffic. When I successfully got to the lay-by, I stayed back in the car. It was the safest thing to do, not with street urchins lurking everywhere. I knew the danger of exiting the vehicle. I put a call through to my mechanic, who advised I should let the car cool off.

Fortunately, as I turned the key in the ignition, the engine roared back to life. I hit the road again. Then it happened. Just as I was about to make the U-turn in front of Ikota Shopping Complex, heading towards Victoria Garden City, the car completely ground to a halt. Now I had no choice but to exit the car and check the engine. That was when I saw a gang of boys approaching my vehicle. My heart sank.

Before that encounter, I had heard horrific tales of motorists who had fallen victim to street urchins. How they extort ‘owo omo taku” which literally translates to the money motorists are forced to pay if their vehicles break down on Lagos roads. I used to boast that I would never give street urchins money if I ever encountered them. I have always considered myself a street-wise Lagosian. But on this occasion, I soon realised the futility of my bravado. One of the urchins was smoking Indian hemp. He blew the smoke directly in my eyes.

Another held a plastic bottle of a popular alcohol brand and took sips at intervals. The shortest among them was the toughest. As I made to shut the bonnet. He advised with a subtle threat that I should leave it open. I insisted I would close it. That was when all hell broke loose. A struggle ensued.  We both struggled. All of them joined in, and I was soon overpowered. Then more threats followed. “Oga, you no go commot here if you no settle us”. Your money is fifty bail” (50K) “You go give us our money”. He held one of the wipers, threatening to rip it off.

“Give you money for what” I asked. Fifty thousand Naira for what exactly, I dey owe una money?”

The short one replied, “Egbon, this nah our daily bread”. Give us our daily bread”.

I almost burst out laughing when they all chorused, “Give us our daily bread.” On impulse, I wanted to ask them if I looked like Jesus Christ”. I toughened my stance and insisted I won’t give them a dime. As we argued back and forth. One of them said if I don’t cooperate, they would break all my mirrors. I walked away from the car, brought out my phone and pretended to make a call. I returned, clutching the phone to my ear. I spoke loudly so everyone could hear but it was not a real call.

“Please send fully armed soldiers”. I described my location. As I continued to grandstand, hoping my “do you know I am” antics would deter them, they also doubled down on their threats. Meanwhile, the crowd that had gathered were powerless in the face of the boys aggression, they just watched the spectacle. In fact, they dared any onlooker to intervene. One of them found a big stone and placed it near my windscreen. “A ma fo glass yen, we go break your glass, You think you are stubborn.  “If you like, call Sanwoolu.”  When I saw that they were not backing down and I was running late, I had to softpedal. I brought out a few Naira notes. They rejected it. I added more money. They grudgingly collected it and disappeared. As I drove off, I saw them converge on another car.

It is safe to say that Lagos is under the siege of street urchins. They are everywhere. On the highways, bus stops, inner streets. They stalk our daily lives. They are threats to residents. They have a sense of entitlement and believe they must be settled. They smoke illicit substances in the open — the presence of law enforcement officers. They extort money from motorists and can resort to violence if you refuse to cooperate with them. Lagos street urchins are operating under the full glare of the law.

From Ajah to the entire stretch of Lekki-Epe Expressway and Lagos Mainland, just pray that your car does not break down. Once you stop on any of the highways in Lagos, they will appear to demand that you pay ‘owo omo taku’. You either pay or get your car damaged or worse. On the Third Mainland Bridge, there have been horrid tales from victims, too. Lagos street urchins often boast of being above the law. Also worrisome is the rate at which they have proliferated in the city. It is sad that neither the government nor the police can rein in these urchins.

The implication of allowing Lagos to be overrun by street urchins is damaging to the reputation of Nigeria’s most important city. A city where residents and visitors cannot move freely for fear of being harassed or even maimed is not a safe city. The consequences are dire for business, tourism and the economy of the state. The state government and the Police authority must end the menace posed by street urchins. Their lawlessness and culture of impunity must not be allowed to continue.