TheCable

“Oga where we dey go still far o,” Caleb, the driver who has been taking me on a voyage in Kogi state, says helplessly.

We had taken at least an hour on the crimson-broken road, which connects Etutekpe to Ogane-Inigun in Dekina local government area of the confluence state. Our destination was Ogane-Inigun, where the November 21 governorship election did not take place. And our mission was to cover as many polling units as we could in the supplementary election of December 5.

Understandably, the substantive election did not take place in the community at the time owing to its windy and tortuous entrails, like the road network. Ogane-Inigun is practically inaccessible by road!

The first village located on the road walled by thick bushes is Etutekpe, where there is no sign of civilised living. The residents of this community have no electricity, water, tarred roads or schools.  And covered in a blanket of dust, Etutekpe holds a few human population in its bosom.

The adjoining village – which is not different from Etutekpe, only that it is dotted by mud houses – is Adunmu. The village looks like an 18th-century African community in the Congo. Here as well, the villagers do not have access to water, electricity, good roads or schools. And it will not be an overstatement to say that the residents compete with animals for space.

The long, scary road linking Ogane-Igini to the world outside Dekina

Emphatically, these communities are nestled in an area divorced from the average human experience.

Caleb pulls over the car to ask a passer-by for direction as our journey on the hilly and rough-shaven road to Ogane-Inigun seems endless. The sight of another human elicits great excitement from me because the road was famished.

Although, Caleb is conversing with the individual in Igala, I pick up every nuance of their conversation to know that we are on a dangerous path.

“Oga, him say the place still far o, and this area dey dangerous,” he says to me in a pulsating cadence. “Make we continue the journey?”

Before answering, I flip out my two phones. There is no network service on both phones. Sudden trepidation grips me.  I know if I was killed on that road, it would take weeks or months for anybody to find my body.

My mind starts to process what could happen to me on that treacherous road. I think about my sons and my wife, and how it would be unfair to betray them by risking my life for a story.

It is clear to me that I am in the middle of nowhere, and would need to take a decision quick.

“Make we turn back, abeg,” I tell the driver with split hesitation.

And then I wonder how such an important artery – connecting different communities – would be left to nature, red, jagged and ominous.

It takes us more time to get out of the death trap, and thank God, we eventually get out after an hour and 45 minutes.

We start our journey gradually back to “life”, making our way through to Ofu, Itobe, Ajaokuta and then Lokoja.

“Civilisation at last,” I exhale.

Now, I look back and I wish I had continued the journey. I guess fear got the better of me. But something must be done fast about that scary Etutekpe road, at least to bring the government to the dwellers.