Scarcity of bottled water, bread and hotel lodging was part of the experience of Head, News Desk, VICTOR EBIMOMI, when he covered the recent Ekiti governorship election. The man from Lagos was surprised that even popular restaurant, Tantalizers, that was transplanted from his resident city that runs 24 hours a day could not deliver.
Soldiers on duty on election day.
Its slogan, ‘Fountain of Knowledge’, gives the impression of an exceptional state, where its mention evokes interest to visit. Some of its natural endowments with a blend of tourist attraction, such as Ikogosi Water Fall, raise exploratory appetite.
But in the run up to the governorship election on June 21, only a few desired a visit to Ekiti State.
Election fever mixed with tension laced the network of roads in the state. So when this correspondent set out on Thursday, June 19 to cover the election, it was with trepidation. The memory of recent elections that turned bloody in the state did not help. But a reporter has to do his job.
Fear produces prayer for journey mercies
By 12 noon on June 19, the bus heading for Ado-Ekiti zoomed off from Ojota motor park in Lagos without full capacity. A few seconds later, a cold air of silence permeated the vehicle as almost every passenger went into quiet prayer to God for “journey mercies”.
It was a jolly ride until we arrived Ibaban and the rim of a front tyre developed fault on Iwo Road. The cracked noise of the metal, which was half off the tyre, frightened the passengers until the driver screeched to a halt. There was no mechanic to fix it.
After about 20 minutes of fruitless efforts to locate a mechanic, even on the telephone, the driver partly fixed the tyre and braved the odds to move on. But the passengers were not comfortable with the fire brigade approach. Some saw the incident as a sign to discontinue the journey.
The edgy countenance of the driver was another foreboding. There was fear in the eyes of most passengers, which fizzled out momentarily because one church man who wore a white garment robe was unruffled. His presence, we assumed, might invoke divine sanity on the journey.
After almost seven hours, the bus finally got to Efon-Alaye, an entry town to Ekiti State. Fagged out, we heaved a sigh of relief that the journey was almost coming to an end. “How long will it take from here to Ado-Ekiti”, asked a curious passenger. “About 35 to 40 minutes” replied another. It was not to be.
The journey turned ‘millipedic’ with the overwhelming presence of armed security personnel checking every vehicle coming in and going out of Ekiti. Their presence raised the great tension anticipated.
Entering the town, the road was barricaded by empty drums that narrowed it to one lane in a zig-zag. Some metres after, particularly in Ilawe-Ekiti, armed soldiers mounted a road block checking both incoming and outgoing vehicles.
About 100 metres after, another road block surfaced with armed policemen conducting more thorough search involving both vehicles and motor cycles. A patrol vehicle was on standby nearby.
From Ilawe-Ekiti to the adjourning Erio-Ekiti, two road blocks, of less than 200 metres interval, were mounted by armed soldiers. With unsmiling faces, they checked the vehicles, craning their necks to look at the faces of passengers and their belongings.
When the passengers thought the search was about reducing as the vehicle moved to Aramoko-Ekiti, two road blocks with combat-ready soldiers were encountered.
Iyin-Ekiti did not fare better. An army patrol vehicle in top speed made a terrifying turning while on reconnaissance. That heightened the fear of the passengers.
“May God save Ekiti in this election”, said a woman who said she was an indigene.
The numerous security points slowed down vehicles so much that the trip from Efon-Alaye to Ado-Ekiti took more than an hour.
A security armada greeted us when we finally arrived Ado-Ekiti. Trucks of armed policemen were parked on road sides. Security agent in civilian clothes loitered, clutching guns.
As the bus made it to Fajuyi Road bus stop, where some of us alighted at about 9pm, there were tell-tale sings that Ekiti had become a huge battle field.
Sear for lodging, food
The search for lodging began. From one hotel to another on Fajuyi Road, the refrain was “no room”. I made a call to a former colleague, who drove down to Tantalizers to pick me up for the search round town. We eventually got a room in a hotel in Oke-Bola area at about 10pm. There were only two rooms left.
Moderate as the hotel was, the price was out of this world. Even in Lagos, the Centre of Excellence, the charge would go for probably half the price.
But for someone very tired because of the stress of long distance travel, there was no choice but to agree to the bargain. I quickly grabbed the offer when I saw four visitors who approached the cashier for lodging. After checking in, my colleague bade me goodnight and left.
I had my bath and decided to find something to eat. But the hotel had no food to serve. The response from the cashier on where to get food only added to the intensity of the hunger.
“There is nowhere you can get food except in Tantalizers, but they must have closed by now. And those women selling food by the roadside down the street must have also closed because of the situation in the state,” he said.
No Eva, expensive Goss
I headed for the gate of the hotel down to the street. Time was about 11pm. Sighting a store about 20 metres away, which was about to close, I increased my pace and at the same time raised my voice to attract the shop owner’s attention.
“Madam, what do you have?” I asked on getting to the shop. “What do you want because I am about to close,” she replied.
After perusing the shop, I discovered there was little I could buy. “Give me bread, butter and a big bottle Eva water.” “There is no big bottled water here, and no Eva. I only have Goss”, she replied. I collected my order, including some beverages, and headed back for my hotel. I ate and slept off.
The next morning, June 20, I discovered that a provision store was directly opposite the hotel but had closed when I wandered the previous night. I dashed there to pick bottled water. It was then I discovered that big bottled water is scarce in Ekiti State.
Residents rely on small size Goss bottled water, sold for between N70 and N80. Their attachment to it, it was later discovered, is because it is produced in the state, the source of which is Ikogosi Water Fall – which is why it is called Goss.
In fact, the price of almost everything in Ekiti is higher than what obtains in Lagos. A small loaf of bread that costs about N100 in Lagos sells for between N120 and N130 in Ekiti. One hour in a cybercafe costs N200 instead of between N100 and N150 in Lagos.
Hiring taxis
After breakfast, I set out to work. A colleague in the other room in the hotel and I went to the Press Centre in the old Governor’s Lodge to meet members of the Ekiti chapter of the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ).
Since the state NUJ vehicles could not accommodate some of us who came from outside the state, we resorted to hiring taxis. The drivers charged per hour or per day. By June 20, tension was higher. So, we moved round with our accreditation card from the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC).
I retired to my room in the evening with a troubled mind because of the anxiety in town. Though there were more than enough security agents on the ground, I still felt that violence would erupt after the election. “Ekiti is known for violent reaction when it comes to election” was the sentence that stuck in my head.
Does a politician own this hotel?
When the night fell and I was relaxing in front of my hotel, I was suddenly gripped by the urge to know the owner of the hotel. I wanted to be sure I was not staying in a hotel owned by a popular politician which can be attacked.
“Is the owner of this hotel a politician?” I asked the cashier. “No he is not,” the young man replied and I heaved a temporary sigh of relief.
Later at about 8pm, out of curiosity, I decided to stroll round the area. I stopped at two joints to refresh and listen to talk on the street to get a feel of what to expect on election day, June 21.
Money changes hands
Talk filled the air that money was changing hands for votes. A particular political party was said to have asked voters to swear that if they failed to vote for it after collecting the money they would either die or use the money to cure sickness for themselves or their children.
Some people collected the money, boasting that nothing would happen to them.
But some, out of fear, did not collect it. “How much is N5,000 that I will swear an oath that may affect my family tomorrow?” a young man who said he rejected it asked me rhetorically.
I retired to my hotel around 10pm to prepare for election day.
Happily enough, because of the restriction on movement, the friend who helped me to get the hotel room came as early as 6.30am to take me to the Press Centre. From there, I teamed up with three other journalists from outside Ekiti to hire a taxi to monitor the election.
Helped by INEC car sticker
But the INEC accreditation card was not enough to move around with unless one had an INEC sticker pasted on the windscreen of the vehicle. Luckily, I had secured two tickers the previous day in anticipation that I would go round in a private vehicle.
While monitoring the election, our vehicle was briefly ‘arrested’ twice by soldiers at Fajuyi and Ado Odo because the INEC sticker fell off from the windscreen. There was nowhere to buy gum or cellotape to paste it back on; it was tucked on the windscreen.
The sound of siren and sight of security agents was terrifying everywhere while the election lasted. At about 1.30pm, we were about running out of fuel on Barracks Road, Okesa, a few metres from the state police command. No filling station opened on election day.
But since we were half-way into our assignment, we approached a policeman who assisted us to get fuel at a filling station about 400 metres away. We put him on the front seat and headed for the filling station. Two police vehicles blared siren and pursued us. They overtook our vehicle close to the entrance of the petrol station.
The team leader alighted with some of his men, dangling guns at us. The policeman in our vehicle was ordered to come out.
“Who detailed you to follow this vehicle?” the team leader asked repeatedly. Shivering as he wanted to answer, we quickly moved to rescue him. We identified ourselves and explained our predicament and that he was just trying to help. He was let off the hook, but with a warning that he was treading a risky path.
“We had to follow the vehicle when we sighted a policeman in front seat because hoodlums can use that to move electoral materials. This policeman himself knows the implication of following you people,” the police team leader explained in a friendly tone before he left us.
To be on the safe side, we took our police escort to his base, thanked him, and drove off to continue to monitor the vote.
Because ours was a private car, at the approach of any of the multiple road blocks mounted by different security agents, our heartbeats increased as most times, instead of waving you down, a gun was aimed at the vehicle.
However, the election was peaceful because everywhere we went people voted with enthusiasm.
But when it was time to count the votes after 3pm, the security agents went on very red alert parading everywhere to forestall violence. At that point, it became an offence to come close to any polling booth unless you had a business there.
I and my colleagues had to ensure that the side of the INEC accreditation card with ‘PRESS’ boldly written in capital letters was displayed on approach of any polling booth.
When voting eventually ended and the winner was declared in the morning of Sunday, June 22, I got a temporary relief. Finally, I had accomplished my mission of reporting the election. But I was still unsettled about what might happen later in the day.
Intimidating victory revellers
Before 6am, I had parked my bag ready to return to freedom city called Lagos. I was at the motor park by 7am. But before the vehicle could load, the whole park and the adjoining areas became noisy and chaotic as revellers celebrating Ayo Fayose’s victory sang and danced and drank assorted drinks. They threw off the bottles occasionally to break into pieces.
Security patrol teams had to come round to ascertain the situation. We hastened the driver to leave the scene for fear that the revelry could descend into violence. The chaotic revelry was not limited to Ado-Ekiti; it was almost everywhere.
Thank God, we are out of it
If the security scrutiny witnessed when coming to the state was scary, the one witnessed when leaving was worse. Soldiers at road blocks, some of them women, ensured that it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for any vehicle to pass through any checkpoint. Sometimes, all passengers were asked to disembark for checking.
Eventually, our vehicle crossed the border to Osun State, and all seemed to chorus, “Thank God, we are out of it.”