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#EndSars | Zikoko!
  • #EndSARS: Chijioke Iloanya’s Sister Starts Solo Protest in Abuja

    Ada is determined to see justice served for the disappearance of her brother, Chijioke Iloanya. Chijioke’s case was part of what fueled the 2020 #EndSARS protest after he went missing in 2012. The notorious Awkuzu SARS in Anambra, where Chijoke lived with his family, is said to be responsible, and there’s a face and name for who to hold accountable. Now, Ada is staging a solo protest at the National Assembly in Abuja, demanding justice for her brother and other victims of police brutality. 

    The Nigeria Police Force’s vision is “To make Nigeria safer and more secure…to create a safe and secure environment for everyone living in Nigeria.”

    However, this vision has been nothing short of a nightmare for Ada and her family, who have been searching for elusive justice for the past 11 years. Ada narrated to Citizen everything that has led her up to this moment.

    Walk us through why you’re staging this protest

    My brother, Chijioke, was arrested by the Nigerian police on November 29, 2012. Then he was transferred to Awkuzu Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) in Anambra state before my mum could bail him out.

    When my parents tried to bail him out at Awkuzu SARS, they denied having him at first. My parents were about to leave the station when they saw my brother being led in, and my mum raised the alarm that he was the one they came to bail out. My parents were thrown out, and it would take several days before they were allowed into the station.

    When they eventually got access, they met James Nwafor, the officer in charge of the SARS unit. When my mum asked for my brother, he told her that if it was those boys (including my brother) she was looking for, he’d already killed them and that there was nothing she could do about it.

    My mum slumped when she heard it and was taken to the hospital. This started this journey for us, and we’ve been trying to get justice in different ways. In 2019, I wrote about it on Twitter. In 2020, I called out James Nwafor because I saw his handle on Twitter.

    I’ve written petitions to the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC). I’ve also written petitions to different Inspector Generals of the Police

    We went to the #EndSARS panel in 2020. The Anambra state government hasn’t made the panel’s recommendations and findings public. No whitepaper has been released either. Nothing has happened. James Nwafor is still a free man while we’re still in the pain of losing our brother and son. Other families have lost someone to James Nwafor, and others have been victims of police brutality. 

    Download the Citizen Election Report: Navigating Nigeria’s Political Journey

    It’s tough what you and your family have had to go through

    I started this protest on July 3. It will go on for ten days, ending on July 13. The reason it’s happening now is because it’s going to three years since we wrote a petition and went to a panel for #EndSARS to demand justice over the death of my brother, Chijioke. 

    The panel made findings and recommendations, but we’ve not gotten that yet, up till now. I’m also doing this because I’m getting tired. I have a life outside of this. My life revolves around Chijioke, and I would like justice for him. It draws me back whenever someone sees me and asks if something has been done about my brother’s case. I have no good answer to that, and that has to change.

    July is also Chijioke’s birth month, which makes this symbolic. His birthday is July 13, which I’ve chosen as the day to end the protest. Because I’ve fought for justice for my brother, other people who have been victims of police brutality have reached out to me as a point of contact. They tell me about family members they’ve lost, and I feel so bad I can do nothing for them. The least I can do is use my voice to speak on their behalf. So while I’m advocating for Chijioke, I’m also trying to get justice for them because we deserve it.

    How’s it been so far?

    I’ve been pushing, although it’s been getting harder and harder. Yesterday’s protest was harder than Monday’s because the sun was scorching hot, and I had to stand for long hours without a place to sit. When I get tired, I sit at the barricades, which still places me under the sun’s searing heat.

    It rained in the morning today so I couldn’t start early. But I’m here now, protesting. I’ve noticed that people have been asking me to go to Ahmed Isah (Ordinary Ahmed of Brekete Family). But when I first tweeted about it, some people like Segalink tried to help, but nothing happened. So I’m conflicted. Do I reach out to him? Would it change anything or not? Also, it’s not just about me. What about other families? It’s a little convenient for me because I’m based in Abuja but what about them? Do they spend their money to come to Abuja to meet Ahmed when it’s easier to arrest James Nwafor immediately? 

    What would you like to see happen?

    Start the investigation and prosecution of James Nwafor immediately. Let each state release its #EndSARS panel reports, whitepapers and recommendations to the public. It makes no sense for ordinary citizens to seek justice through one man who is probably overwhelmed with so much. Why should I rely on a regular Nigerian to help me when we have institutions that aren’t doing their jobs? It’s unfair. I’ve been here since having people look at me with pity, and I don’t want that. I just want justice.

  • #EndSARS: Everything We Know About The Lagos State Judicial Panel Report

    More than a year after the Lekki Toll Gate massacre, the Lagos State Judicial Panel on #EndSARS has submitted a report confirming that the Nigerian Army and Police Force were both responsible for the killing of protesters on the night of October 20th, 2020.

    The panel was inaugurated on October 19th, 2020, to quell the ongoing protests by investigating cases of human rights abuses by the Nigerian Police Force, the panel’s role eventually expanded following the night of the massacre.

    “The Nigerian Army was invited for intervention in the State and was deployed to Lekki Toll Gate on the 20th of October 2020. At the Lekki Toll Gate, officers of the Nigerian Army shot, injured, and killed unarmed helpless and defenseless protesters, without provocation or justification, while they were waving the Nigerian Flag and singing the National Anthem and the manner of assault and killing could in context be described as a massacre,” the report read. 

    Here’s everything we know about the report:  

    The Nigerian Army Fired Live Bullets

    After months of going through evidence and listening to eye-witness accounts, the panel concluded that the Nigerian Army actually fired live rounds at the tollgate, killing multiple Nigerians. 

    The panel stated that it had recovered two bullet shells from the scene on October 30th, 2020, when it went for a spot assessment. The shells were duly analyzed by forensic experts who determined that they belonged to the Nigerian Army. 

    Doctors Testified To Multiple Injured People And Over 96 Recorded Deaths

    Presenting its findings, the panel cited the testimonies of three doctors who attended to protesters on that night. In their testimonies, the doctors confirmed that many protesters were critically injured, with over 96 gunshot-related deaths recorded from that night alone (some of the bodies are yet to be identified). 

    The Nigerian Police Also Shot At Protesters 

    The panel’s report also points at another round of shootings from that night, this time by the Nigerian Police Force. According to the report, after the Nigerian Army left the toll gate, officers of the Police Force showed up and shot directly at the remaining protesters who tried to flee the scene. Bodies were reportedly discovered in the shanties and the Lagoon at the Lekki Phase 1 Foreshore, close to the Lekki Toll Gate. 

    The Nigerian Army Blocked Ambulances From Attending To Victims

    Confirming reports made by medics and protesters from that night, the panel found that the Nigerian Army made the situation worse by refusing to allow ambulances to render medical assistance to victims who required it. This eventually led to more deaths that could have easily been prevented if medical aid had been administered at the appropriate time. 

    Lekki Concession Company (LCC) Tried To Stall The Investigation 

    The report also provided more information on the LCC’s role during and after the shootings. According to the panel, the LCC failed to cooperate with the investigation, refusing to hand over vital evidence in its possession. 

    The LCC is also reported to have manipulated the CCTV footage it presented before the panel. 

    A Clean-up Attempt

    Finally, the report also revealed that several government agencies attempted to cover up the incident of October 20th. According to several eyewitness accounts, the Nigerian Army and the Lagos State Environmental Health Monitoring Unit (LASHEMU) allegedly showed up with vans to cart away the bodies of dead protesters. The Lagos Waste Management Authority (LAWMA) was also reported to have arrived at the scene for a quick clean-up immediately after the shootings. Similarly, officers of the Nigerian Army and Police Force were reported to have picked up empty shells from the bullets they used, in a bid to cover up their parts in the shootings.

    Next Steps….

    As part of its report, the panel recommended that the Lekki Toll Plaza be made a memorial site for the protesters who died, renaming it the “ENDSARS TOLLGATE”. Other recommendations included making October 20th of every year a toll-free remembrance day – hinting at plans to reopen the toll gate, a public apology by both the State and Federal Governments, compensation to victims from that night, the establishment of a standing committee to bridge the gap between the society and the police, and the institution of a Human Rights Committee or Tribunal made up of relevant stakeholders. 

    Receiving the report, Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu promised to set up a 4-man committee led by the Honorable Attorney-General to prepare a White Paper for the purpose of implementing the findings and recommendations expressed in the report. He also promised to send the report to the National Economic Council (NEC) for implementation.

  • Love Life: I Still Can’t Believe He’s Gone

    Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.



    Audio: I Still Can’t Believe He’s Gone

    Derin, 21, and Oke, 21, had been together for a little over a year before Oke’s tragic death cut their love story short. For today’s Love Life, Derin talks about how they went from best friends to lovers, and all the plans they had for their future together.

    derin and oke love

    What was your first memory of meeting Oke?

    I met him in school in February 2018. I went to study for exams with a friend, and I saw him on her bed, pressing his laptop. My first thought was, “Who is this fine boy?” The moment we spoke, it was clear that he wasn’t like the other guys in my school. 

    I initiated our first conversation because he was really shy. I remember he was watching Grown-ish, and I gave him my laptop to send it to me. We didn’t immediately exchange numbers, but we followed each other on Twitter.

    What happened next?

    We talked on Twitter for a bit, then we moved to WhatsApp and basically became best friends. 

    Ah. Best friends?

    LMAO. Yeah. We were best friends for a while. I liked him as a friend, but I didn’t see him as a potential lover. He always talked about how stressful it was that he was so obviously into me, and I was there forming best friends. 

    The thing is, we would talk every single day. I found him really cool and smart, but in my head, I just couldn’t picture myself dating a guy my age; I’ve always had a thing for older guys. Oke was so deep in my friend zone, I would even tell him about other guys I liked. 

    LMAO. Ouch. Did he ever tell you how he felt?

    Yeah, he did. He actually asked me out around February last year, but I turned him down. He made it clear that even though I didn’t feel the same way, he was still happy being friends and getting to spend time with me.

    I promised him that if my feelings ever changed, I would let him know.

    When did you realise your feelings had changed?

    A few months later. In June 2019, he moved into the same building as me so we could be closer in our final year. I was in Room 9 and he was in Room 20, so we were basically roommates. We did everything together and got even closer.

    By July, I realised I had fallen in love with him. I remember writing it in my Notes app.

    derin and oke love
    Derin’s note about falling for Oke.

    Did you tell him as you promised?

    LMAO. I dropped a few hints. He figured it out, and we started dating on August 15.

    What was the transition from best friends to partners like?

    I know it’s supposed to be easy, but it really wasn’t. Even though we knew so much about each other, it still felt like we didn’t know enough. I definitely found the transition a lot harder than Oke did. 

    I not only had to unlearn my age bias, but I also had to let my guard down in a whole new way, and that was difficult for me. I eventually got the hang of it, but the first three months were tough. We argued too often.

    What did you guys argue about?

    It was always about the most trivial things, and I hated it so much. He was still my best friend, so I couldn’t stand when we weren’t talking. To be fair, the fights were mostly my fault because he was such a gentle person.

    Honestly, he was perfect. 

    What’s the longest you went without talking?

    Our longest fight lasted about a week and a half. I was going through a lot at the time, and I sent him a text about needing to speak to him. He told me to leave a message because he couldn’t talk at the moment. I didn’t because I was mentally exhausted. 

    Later that night, he hit me up so we could talk, but I told him I wasn’t in the best mental state to have the conversation anymore. He got angry, then I got angry and it became this big fight. For over a week, we didn’t talk — only texted to check up on each other. 

    We eventually apologised, and that’s when he sent me that email I shared on Twitter. Emails were how we typically resolved our major issues, and we also used them to randomly send each other mushy messages.

    derin and oke love
    derin and oke love
    One of Oke’s many “mushy” emails to Derin.

    That’s so sweet. Had you dated anyone before him?

    Yeah. Two other people, but my relationship with Oke was very different. It was calming and full of love. We did everything together, and he always looked out for me. He taught me how to love wholly and without fear. That was his style.

    Was that what you loved the most about him?

    It was one of the many things, but what I loved the most was his perspective. Oke always thought outside the box. If you ask me, I think he lived a full life on earth before coming back a second time. How else could someone so young have been so brilliant?

    How did your relationship with him change you?

    It made me a better…everything. A better listener, communicator and lover. Since his death, I’ve been thinking about just how much he changed me. He was a very empathetic person, and that rubbed off on me. He taught me how to look out for others. 

    Did you guys ever talk about the future?

    All the time. We had plans of settling down in about two or three years. We talked about everything, from what our rings would look like, to how our wedding would be. For both of us, we were each other’s final bus stop.

    Would you call him your soulmate then?

    I don’t really believe in the idea of soulmates, but Oke and I complemented each other in the best ways. We were very different, but we were always in sync. On most days, it definitely felt like we were made for each other. 

    Derin and Oke

    Are you fine with talking about the day he passed?

    Yeah, I am.

    Can you walk me through that day?

    Oke and I were always busy during the day, but we would make out time to talk on the phone at around 11:00 p.m. every night. We did the same thing the night before he died. After talking and working together, I went to bed at around 2:00 a.m.

    The next morning, he texted me about how hard it was to calm his hypertensive mother because of the shootings going on in his area. I continued to check up on him, then he told me they’d set his mum’s cars on fire. 

    The last message he read from me said, “We’ll get through the day.”

    How did you find out what had happened?

    I went on Twitter, and I saw someone tweet that they had gunned down their cousin at Mafoluku. I sent him the tweet on WhatsApp, but it didn’t deliver. That’s how my heart started beating fast.

    I sent him another message asking him to keep me in the loop, but that didn’t deliver either. So, I decided to call him. No one answered. At that point, I just assumed that he and his family were trying to get to safety. 

    I waited for about five minutes and called again, and this time, his brother answered. He said that someone had been stabbed, and I should find a way to get an ambulance. So, I immediately tweeted it out. I still had no idea it was Oke. 

    What did you think was happening?

    I assumed he couldn’t answer the phone because he was being his normal empathetic self and helping the person who had been stabbed. After trying and failing to reach him again, I started getting tense, so I searched “Mafoluku Oshodi” on Twitter.

    I saw a couple of tweets that said the area was now calm, but I kept scrolling and that’s when I saw Oke’s picture on the TL. He was lying on the floor, lifeless, with blood coming out from his neck. I screamed. 

    All my neighbours ran to my house. My sisters and I were already on the floor, wailing. I eventually calmed myself down with the hope that they were able to get him to the hospital before he died. 

    How did you get an update?

    I was able to finally reach his brother. One of my neighbours collected my phone and started communicating on my behalf. His brother eventually told my neighbour that Oke didn’t make it. When my neighbour broke the news to me, I went numb. 

    I felt like my whole world had come crashing down.

    I’m so sorry. How were the following days for you?

    For the rest of the week, I could barely eat or sleep. It was the toughest week of my life. Even my sisters were down. He came around a lot, so he was like a brother to them. They loved him so much.

    I’m really sorry, Derin. How are you holding up now?

    It’s tough. I randomly find myself wondering why it had to be Oke. I can’t believe I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Almost every day, I read through our chats, listen to his voice notes and go through our pictures. 

    I still can’t believe he’s gone.

    What’s something you’ll always remember about your relationship?

    I’ll always remember how intentional we were about making it work. We put in so much effort into our relationship and were always open about what we liked and what we didn’t.

    I’ll also remember how he would just randomly tell me, “OMG! You’re so cute.”

    If you knew what you know now, would you have done anything differently?

    If I knew my relationship would be cut short, I would have made sure we didn’t postpone so many things. We moved a lot of our plans to 2021 because we thought we had so much time. 

    Still, I’m grateful for all we could do together while he was here. 


    Check back every Thursday by 9 AM for new Love Life stories here. The stories will also be a part of the Ships newsletter, so sign up here.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill this form.

  • “Our Democratic Rights Are Being Violated And Trampled On” — Feminist Coalition

    Last week, we covered some of the ways in which the Feminist Coalition has supported the EndSARS protests in Nigeria. In the light of recent events, like the arrests of the peaceful EndSARS protesters, we asked the Feminist Coalition a few questions on what their purpose is and what struggles they’ve come across in supporting the movement to end SARS brutality in Nigeria.

    Feminist Coalition provides aid for protesters.

    We are scared young Nigerian women who are not a threat. We wanted to contribute towards Nigerians exercising their constitutional rights to protest by providing food, water, masks (for COVID 19), paying medical bills and supporting legal aid for arrested protesters. 

    We do not plan protests; we simply donate to the needs of peaceful protest organisers so that they are safe. We have made it clear in our statements via our website and our social:

    Unfortunately, their goodwill hasn’t been very well received.


    In the past week, we’ve had restrictions placed on our bank accounts, and many people who have donated to us or received donations from us have also complained of restrictions placed on their accounts by certain banks. This is what forced us to move to decentralised payment platforms and only accept donations in bitcoin using BTC Pay.

    There have been threats to the safety of coalition members, FK Abudu, other Nigerian civilians as well as general concerns for the safety of peaceful protesters.

    These threats have been due to misinformation and defamation of who we are and what we stand for by bad actors. 

    We received donations towards the #EndSARS movement from unknown but well-meaning Nigerians and supporters of the movements both here and internationally. People have donated because they are all passionate about building a better Nigeria. What we asked for was an end to the killing of Nigerians at the hands of the police and that the government take real action and hear our cry as people of Nigeria.

    Here is our statement on the killing of peaceful protesters in Lagos Nigeria on 20 October 2020.

    For more information on the Feminist Coalition, you can check out their website.

  • 5 Nigerian Women Tell Us How They Care For Their Mental Health During #EndSARS

    It is very easy to forget to prioritise your mental health in the midst of the protests and what seems like a very important part of Nigeria’s history. We asked five Nigerian women how they manage to protect their mental health even in the midst of it all.

    Sandra, 18

    When it gets too much, I leave social media and binge watch Korean dramas. It is a good escape because, at that point, I am not thinking of anything else other than the movie I am watching.

    Amaka, 24

    I do not. I haven’t spoken to my therapist in a while, and I have daily panic attacks. I really want it all to end. Maybe I can start taking care of my mental health then.

    Fikin, 20

    I cry a lot. After seeing so much, I just break down and cry. When I’m done crying, I get angry and resume my online protest. I also talk to a friend. He knows what to say, and it makes me feel better.

    Zainab, 24

    Weed, friends and my therapist. That’s basically my support system, and it’s working. My friends surround me with a lot of love and everything becomes easier to get through.

    Eniola, 35

    I masturbate. It helps me relax, and then I sleep. Sleep helps me to just forget.

    For more information on women-focused content, please click here

  • 6 Nigerian Women Tell Us Why They Joined #ENDSARS Protests

    Women have been said to be at the forefront of this protest. Although some people say women should not join the protest, they did anyway. We asked six Nigerian women why they joined the #EndSARS protests.

    Linda, 21

    Every day I spend on the road, is for the women and the queers. Police brutality affects those two groups strongly, and people

    Elizabeth, 25

    My brother has been extorted by SARS. I don’t consider it centering men, I consider it fighting for family. It’s a family thing now.

    Chika, 27

    Women. That’s it. Women are raped, assaulted, and STILL extorted by SARS officers. They’re the reason I protest.

    Folorunsho, 26

    I’ve been a victim of SARS. They’ve taken some money from me before, and I’m honestly done with the institution. This protest is for me. For what they’ve taken from me.

    Adaeze, 19

    I want a new Nigeria. A safer one for all of us irrespective of their gender and sexual orientation. If by going to the streets every day will get me that, then so be it.

    Dimso, 35

    I do not want to be on the wrong side of history. I want to be able to tell my children that I stood for something as great as this.


    For more women do focused content, please click here

  • What It Feels Like To Be Part Of The #EndSARS Movement From Outside Nigeria- Abroad Life

    The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad.


    The #EndSARS movement quickly went from being a national one to being an international one, with Nigerians all over the world lending their voices to demand an end to police brutality in Nigeria. On Abroad Life today, we spoke with a few people who organised, or participated in #EndSARS protests all around the world, and here’s what they had to say:

    1. Ife, Canada

    It all started when I saw Tunde’s tweet calling for Nigerians in Toronto to protest. I was definitely interested, so I got in contact with him and we started planning.

    It was perfect timing because I was already looking to do something on my own. I wanted to stand in front of my house and hold up a placard.  We contacted the media and the city for permission, and he designed the poster. Once we got approval from the city, we shared the poster with all the information. We got all of this sorted in less than 24 hours, and because he has a huge twitter following, it generated a lot of traction and interest. Getting permission from the police was also pretty straightforward. I had to reach out to the head of the Special Events department for Toronto, Lisa Yuill. She understood and gave me all the help I needed. We even had police escorts on the march. 

    The march happened on Saturday morning at Dunder Square. I would say it’s like the Freedom Park, Ojota of Toronto. The turnout was impressive. I was expecting that because Saturday was the beginning of a long weekend (there’s a public holiday on Monday), people would want to sleep in and enjoy their weekend, but by 9 a.m., we already had over 50 people.  In all, we had over 100 people. Our protest incited a wave of protests, and I’m super impressed about that. There are different groups having protests in different parts of the country and that’s amazing. This movement is personal for me because I’ve lost thirty thousand naira in one day to SARS. A few years ago when I was in Lagos, I sent my brother on an errand within the neighborhood. He took my car. Shortly after he left home, I got a call that SARS had arrested him. I got there and asked what was going on. They said they just arrested him, and he had to follow them to the station. 

    “Okay, what did you arrest him for?”

    “When we get to the station, you’ll find out.”

    Then one of them brought me to the side and told me to look at their minibus up ahead. There were already a few young guys like my brother in there. He said they were all going to the station, but if I didn’t want my brother to go as well, I had to give them a hundred thousand naira. I said I only had five thousand to give them. He laughed. We bargained. We agreed on thirty thousand naira. I gave them in cash and left with my brother. 

    As long as the goal is common, we encourage people to protest. If we see that the fire is dying down, we’ll go again. 

    2. Tunde, Canada

    My experience with SARS back home: I was robbed in 2013 at gunpoint. They stole my brother’s car. They drove me and my girlfriend away from the spot they robbed us and dropped us off. But they took the car and our phones. For me, it was my iPhone, so I was able to track and find its location. I went to the police and they introduced some SARS folks to me. I gave them the location of my iPhone; they mentioned they’d take care of it. 

    A week later, they said I should bring one hundred thousand naira, and they would bring the guys out. I gave them. After a week, I paid another 100k. It was clear at this point that they just wanted to keep extorting me, so I stopped giving them money, Why am I giving the police money to get thieves? Aren’t they paid by the government? I suspected that they had found those boys and gotten bribed by them as well. We never found the car or my phones. It was a traumatic experience.

    What soured me organizing that protest was when I saw young folks sleeping in front of the Lagos State Assembly. I was touched, and I knew it meant we were ready for change. When I put the tweet out for the Toronto protests, it gained so much traction and folks started reaching out. We were surprised to have a lot of people turn out. Ironically, that morning, a Toronto police officer walked up to us, and guess what? He’s Nigerian! A Kaduna guy. He was laughing and saying he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about SARS anymore. I am glad we were able to lend our voices. Even though we are far from home, it affects all of us.

    3.  Rasheedat, England

    I tweeted about being interested in going for a protest if there’s one in London. And someone tagged me on Ogbeni Dipo’s tweet. At the protests, the energy was great. Due to the permissions the organisers had received from metro police, we were restricted to a spot. But trust Nigerians; we “revolted” after a while. People wanted to stand and protest in front of the Nigerian house, so they moved there while others stayed on the other side. After some time, the police came to us (I was standing on the other side) and said we should go down the path that’s next to the Nigerian House. I crossed over then saw Wizzy. 

    4. Afopefoluwa, Germany

    I had many SARS experiences when I was in Nigeria, both personally and through people I really cared about. I remember receiving calls from lovers saying what the police had done to them and feeling completely helpless at the other end of the phone. I remember someone I really cared about just crying and crying for hours after midnight after the police had assaulted, harassed and extorted them. That night, I stayed up for hours listening to them cry on the phone. I often remember the helplessness I felt in those moments, how just saying “sorry” didn’t cut it. 

    Once, my youngest sister and I were coming back from one of those fun nights. I think it was a “90’s baby night”. We were both so excited to be discovering this side of Lagos together, which seemed genuinely like a space where people could just be. We were in an Uber on our way home when SARS stopped us and told us to come down. I often think about the fear in her eyes that night, lanky and tall as she was, and how she immediately went on her knees on the bare ground and raised her hands up in the air saying “Please!” I actually joked about it a lot to her and everyone else because I think I use humour to deal with trauma. But now I think it was insensitive to have laughed about that. It was a traumatic experience and that kind of experience leaves its mark on you. 

    Before all of this started, I had been planning that my own detty Decembers from now on would just be staging protests. My friends are telling me now that “Woah Afope, you had been saying all you wanted to do was protest and look now, there’s a revolution.” I just think Nigerians have had enough, especially the youth, and we’ve been having enough for a while now. So for me, my body has been ready to hit the streets, and since everything already started happening rather organically, I knew I had to join in whatever capacity I was able to. Also being in a political city such as Berlin, I noticed that people were always staging demonstrations for everything and anything. They are aware of their rights. They know what happens when you don’t speak up. So I started to attend some of these and say to the other residents here that when I came back home this was all I wanted to do. They don’t even get even quarter as much shit as we do, and they’re willing to hit the streets to demand their rights and demand to be heard. I thought we could do with some of that in Nigeria as well, and I am so glad to see that we are all united and speaking with one voice about our future. The protests went really good. People got to speak their minds and air out grievances. It was some kind of a healing space, but there was still anger in the air. There was music as well.

    There was a funny scene where the police came out when some protesters were demonstrating a typical SARS encounter, and they tried to intervene because they thought it was real. People also read out stuff. Someone brought puff puff to share. 

    I appreciate everyone who came out and made it a success. Segun Famisa and Akeem Durojaiye supported us with plans and helped us amplify the event. I would like to thank them as well. Though the people in the embassy were peeking out from their homes and taking pictures, no one came out to address us.  I guess it’s because it was a Sunday.

    5. Ibukun, Canada

    Someone on the Zikoko WhatsApp group posted a picture with different locations for protests and there was one for Toronto. I was really happy to see that. I was a bit skeptical though, because the thing with protests is that sometimes they get out of control. I did some research and found Tunde and Ife’s tweets, and then got a friend to follow me. At least I knew I wasn’t alone, and that the protests were going to be organised. We had to be in groups of 25 because of COVID rules, and then as we were gathering, two police officers walked up to us and started asking what happened and why we were protesting. We told them and then one of them just went, “Ahan, my fellow Nigerians.”e He said he was from Kaduna, and he supported our cause. He assured us that as long as we had our permits, we would be fine. 

    It was nice to protest because so many non-Nigerians stopped and asked us what we were protesting about and were really eager to learn. We played the National Anthem and took the knee and then someone got on a mic and addressed us and the passers-by. 

    I think the most emotional moment was when someone got on the microphone and started calling the names of the people that had been killed by SARS and everyone would respond “Killed by SARS!” It was my first ever protest march, and it was good. 

    When I was leaving, a new group was coming.

  • This Is How We’ll Sustain The Ginger: A Zikoko Citizen Manifesto

    How do we start this?

    Let’s start with a random day: you’re in a car or a bus, on your way home from work. It’s late. You’re eager to get home, eat and unwind in front of your favourite Nollywood web series. It’s dark. The street lamps are dead (typical). You see the flashlights before you see them, the men in uniform. Your mind is still on food. “Hay God,” you mutter as they start to slow down your vehicle. You know what they want. You say a silent prayer. You start to hide your iphone. You watch as they cock their guns, these men in uniform, and listen to their harsh voices telling everyone to get down. You’re scared, thinking at once of the multiple things you’ve not done with your life, the uneaten pounded yam and white soup in your fridge, and how you can ask for help before it escalates. You imagine the Twitter hashtag. You shudder. 

    That’s our reality as young people in Nigeria and that’s only scratching the surface. Over the past couple of days, we’ve witnessed something groundbreaking in the history of Nigeria: young people of different tribes, different backgrounds, living in different cities, states and countries have assembled to protest SARS officers who oppress young people for simply existing. 

    In this time, amongst several problems, the problem of information has been growing and spreading sporadically. False information and fake news is flying around, while at the same time, the news of the protests eludes different sets of people including a chunk of the older generation Nigerian. 

    What did we do?

    At Zikoko, we consolidated efforts to ensure that people were getting verified information at a timely manner, while at the same time providing updates and explaining the situation without the “grammar” that tends to exclude part of our people. We were (and are) providing updates on protest locations, telling the stories of people who have been victims and survivors of SARS brutality and updating our audience on government action. We have been trying to answer important questions: What happens when SARS is disbanded? Who has the power to disband SARS? and so much more. 

    But even answering these questions was not enough. It was good to temporarily solve an information problem, but what about the knowledge problem?

    As an organisation that cares about the things that affect our audience, including how society affects their personal lives, we decided to bring you something bigger. 

    Enter, Zikoko Citizen: The Police Is Not Your Friend But Zikoko Is

    A long time ago, we were told we were the leaders of tomorrow. Ironic that the same people who ruled us then still rule us now. They’re our governors, senators, representatives and even president.

    Here’s where it gets interesting: 

    As Citizens of a country, in this case, Nigeria, we have several rights and freedoms including the right and power to choose who our leaders are. We have the right to demand better policies and hold the people in power accountable. But how do we do this? 

    That’s where Zikoko, your friend REALLY REALLY comes in: 

    Before it even begins to become a problem, Zikoko’s Citizen wants to anticipate and find answers to your burning questions around governance and policy. Curious about what DaddyBubu or Wike or Sanwo is doing and how it affects you? — from employment to elections to health —  Citizen will be on the beat.

    Think of Citizen as a knowledge-hole. Everything you need to know, broken down, simplified, and visually compelling through the use of infographics and simple illustration. 

    So what we have the information now, what next?

    Gbe body e, AKA action. One of the strong points of the EndSARS protests is that we first understood our rights as citizens of Nigeria — a right to life, a right to dignity, a right to freedom, amongst others  —  and secondly, we understood our leaders are to be held accountable. Using that knowledge and transforming it into something tangible as we’ve seen in the past few days is action.

    Action comes in different forms: from protests, to petition to impeachment to getting your PVC so you can vote in elections

    Let us paint you another quick example: it’s 2023. You’re on social media complaining about how messed up Naija is. The elections are in a few weeks, you really really want to vote o, but to go and be stressing yourself for ordinary permanent voter’s card? Your consign no reach like that. You also don’t really know who the candidates up for elections are. You see their posters around, and you know some of them because they were in power when you were in primary school, but the information is too scattered for your busy self. Imagine a database breaking down all the information you need to know about the elections including how to get your PVC and voting centres close to you? Imagine all of this data available months before the elections! That’s what Citizen will do. It will make the long game easier in the short term.  

    Zikoko Citizen is that friend that will always help mobilize you to take action. You ask: There’s a problem, what can we do about it? Zikoko Citizen breaks down your options and explains what’s realistic.

    Who is Zikoko Citizen for?

    You, yes you reading this. Citizen is for you. Whether you’re abroad oh, or you’re in the process of japa-ing oh, or you’re still here, Citizen is for you.

    Why should you care?

    Because you deserve a say in the way things work in Nigeria and it’s high time we exercise some of it. You feel me?

    When should you expect Zikoko Citizen stories?

    Monday morning, 9am sharp. As you’re drinking your coffee like this, or sitting in commute, irritated by traffic, there’s a Citizen story waiting for you. 

    And on Thursday by 9am, as you look forward to the weekend, there’ll be a new Citizen explainer patiently waiting for you to dive into it. 

    After all the long talk here’s what we’re saying: Citizen helps you understand the problem and how to take action. 

    Here’s how to follow the action

    Here’s where it gets even sweeter

    Citizen comes with a weekly newsletter that breaks all the important information to you in the simplest forms. You don’t want to not be on it.

    If you have any questions, suggestions, concerns, hit us up here. We full ground. 

  • What To Do When Governments Suppress Protests

    Citizen is a column that explains how the government’s policies fucks citizens and how we can unfuck ourselves.

    The right of citizens to protest is protected by the right of assembly, free speech, freedom of association and freedom of movement, contained in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Yet, governments worldwide always attempt to suppress the voice of dissent among the populace. 

    It’s an act we’ve seen worldwide, in different countries. In India, the government threatened arrests and physical violence against protesters who were expressing their discontent with a new citizenship law. Still, hundreds of thousands of Indians showed up. Protesters continued to grow in number despite the use of deadly force, with the governments’ efforts backfiring.

    In Hong Kong, similar threats did not prevent 1 million people from pouring out in support of the movement. The protests have continued non-stop since March 2019.

    Seemingly, these threats of crackdowns incense the populace further and strengthen their resolve. 

    Some governments try a different, subliminal approach. Many traditional media outlets are either sponsored, controlled or threatened by the government, but not the internet. Rather than threats of violence, authorities often opt to shut down the internet, a medium of communication that they are unable to control and censor. As we’ve seen in Nigeria, the internet is the only means of receiving and broadcasting accurate information as they happen, away from the grasp of government censorship in media houses. 

    In Sudan, the authorities blocked access to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to quell anti-government protests. There, citizens relied on Virtual Private Networks to bypass internet restrictions. 

    In 2019, the Iranian government shut down internet services in the country following weeks of protests against corruption, ineptitude and an increase in fuel prices. It was the largest internet shutdown in a country that size. While top politicians, banks and state-run media still had access to the internet, the rest of the populace did not. VPNs did not work either. Citizens had to rely on Toohsheh, a file-sharing service which relies on satellites rather than the internet to disperse information.

    Other governments opt for a more crude approach. Paid protesters, who are offered as low as ₦1,000 per person to counter legitimate protesters, have been documented. All these have been done in an attempt to discredit the protesters and perhaps cause violence.

    Regardless of the methods governments use to suppress protests, the people creatively find a way to bypass restrictions. VPNs and alternative communication means have continued to help citizens avoid censorship by the authorities. In Nigeria, the sheer number of protesters were sufficient to counter hoodlums who intended to stir up violence and smear the protests.

    The Nigerian government can see that the playbook has changed; the people will no longer be silent. 

    We also inform you about what to do in case the government shuts down the internet: #EndSars: A Guide To Staying Online In case Of An Internet Shutdown

    We hope you’ve learned a thing or two about how to unfuck yourself when the Nigerian government moves mad. Check back every weekday for more Zikoko Citizen explainers.

  • A Week In The Life Of A Journalist Covering The SARS Protest

    “A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.


    The subject of today is Femi, a writer at Zikoko. He talks about his experience covering the #Endsars protest in Lagos, how the protest is affecting relationships, and why every Nigerian should support the protest.

    FRIDAY:

    Today is a big day because I’m covering the #EndSARS protests in Lagos. I’m happy because lowkey, I’ve been annoyed about Nigerians not speaking up for their rights. So, seeing young people come together to stage a peaceful protest makes me proud of them. Of us. And that has gingered me to document the protest. As a journalist, it’s my duty to ensure that society works the way it’s supposed to. That’s why I’m up two hours earlier than I’d normally wake up to complete my tasks for the day. 

    My tasks include covering how protesters in Lagos have been harassed by the police. I’m also reporting the demands of the protesters in clear terms. By the time I’m done, I have renewed ginger to take to the protest ground.

    11 am:

    I left my house by 10 am, but I didn’t get to the protest venue [Alausa] until 11 am. There was a bit of traffic caused by the protesters. It’s easy to get carried away by protest frenzy, so I have to remind myself that I’m here in an official capacity. That means before I react to anything, my camera should be rolling. 

    12 noon:

    A thug tried to snatch my phone while I was recording videos. He was surprised that I didn’t let go of my phone easily. I even got a punch in the mouth for struggling. Thankfully, people surrounded us and pushed him away. It’s funny how he just kept on walking like he didn’t just try to steal from me. I’ve texted my friend safety tips for when he’s coming to join me: “Come along with water, snacks, ID cards, cash, comfortable clothes and no jewellery.”

    1 pm:

    The protest has been peaceful so far. We have people volunteering to clean up after people littering. I’ve lost count of how many times someone has offered me snacks and water. There are people here distributing facemasks for protesters. Everything is just so orderly. The one time we had an agitated person, we took them aside to ensure that the protest didn’t turn violent. I’m so proud of everyone here who showed up. 

    1:30 pm:

    I’m a bit worried. There are a lot of policemen stationed outside the house of assembly where we’re protesting. Even though it’s a peaceful protest, there’s that underneath fear that anything can happen. The police say they’re here to observe. I’ll soon go on IG live for work. Let me show the people at home how it’s going and that we’re safe. 

    2:00 pm:

    At some point, some agbayas with berets attempted to make themselves the centre of the protest. We promptly shouted them down and didn’t allow them to speak because we don’t want political affiliations with our protest. One of the ways we’re keeping the protest anonymous is to have everyone on equal standing. There’s no one person handling the crowd. There’s no one person talking all the time. The megaphone passes to different people so everyone has a chance to say something at any given time. There’s no central figure, and that’s good because the government can’t pick one person to either harass, bribe or use as a stumbling block to the protests. I think that’s one of the reasons why the protest has gathered momentum. 

    2:30 pm:

    At this protest, there are two types of people. People who urinate in a large drainage near the Lagos state house of assembly, and people who walk the distance to the city mall to use their toilets. Do with this information what you will. 

    3:00pm:

    Some people suggested that we block the Lagos-Ibadan expressway. Their reasoning is that we’re not making enough impact at the house of assembly as the traditional media is still ignoring us. 

    We’ve blocked the traffic lanes on the express, and traffic is stretching as far as the eye can see. There are convoys, bullion vans, army and policemen in the traffic. I’m scared of an altercation, but I also understand the importance of this cause. 

    Some people came to negotiate, so we left one lane open for traffic on both sides. Instead of a total shut down, it’s now go-slow. I hope the government is paying attention. 

    4 pm – 6 pm:

    I was worried that morale would drop in the evening.  Apparently, someone has booked a DJ. Another person rented a generator. Someone else has gotten canopies, so there’s ginger at the protest ground. The first song the DJ plays is Fem by Davido, and the crowd loses it. Why everybody just dey para for us? 

    10 pm:

    Some people are hell-bent on passing the night at Alausa. However, I’m going home to sleep. Seeing all these people coming out to air their grievances gives me an overwhelming sense of pride. For the first time in this generation’s memory, we’ve decided to let our displeasure be known to the government. 

    I’m proud, tired, and I can’t wait to hit my bed. 

    SATURDAY:

    I’m up early. Again. 

    Today’s protest starts by 8:00 am, so I have to get there early. I’m thinking about the fact that Nigeria is notorious for human rights abuse, therefore protests require courage.  Every time you attend a protest, you don’t know if you’re going to be bundled away. Summoning bravery is the first barrier many Nigerians have to overcome before deciding whether they want to make their voices heard or not.

    I really don’t blame anyone that doesn’t come out to protest. If you can’t attend physically, you can still help by either donating or aggressively amplifying on social media. 

    I think protesters need to know that in addition to wearing correct gear, they shouldn’t incite violence. If any faction is becoming violent and destroying properties, they should immediately leave the area. It’s also crucial to have a protest partner who knows your full name, address and emergency contact. In case anything happens. I recommend as many protest partners as possible because the more the better. The more details people have, the better chance you stand if anything happens. 

    I’m running late with all this thinking. I need to get up and get going.

    They [government] must not take us for idiot.

    SUNDAY:

    I woke up tired today. Standing and walking around Lagos takes a toll on your body, but my eye is on the prize — our voices must be heard. I know that effort is not wasted, so that’s encouraging. We must keep gathering. We must keep pushing. If we don’t support the protests by our physical presence, we’ll donate. If we don’t have money, we’ll amplify on social media. 

    It’s been tiring, and I’ve had less sleep in the past few days than I should, but it’s for a worthy cause. We’re all fighting for a Nigeria we can be proud of. 

    The most surprising thing for me has been seeing the middle class come out to protest. I think that has given a lot of humanity to the protest. You see people who look like you, went to the same school as you. People who talk like you. And they’re putting themselves on the line. I didn’t think I was going to see Nigerians from different backgrounds protest together. At least, not anytime soon.

    Another thing from this protest is hearing how it’s affecting relationships. A friend called to tell me that he hasn’t spent as much time with his girlfriend in a while. Another friend had a similar complaint. After reminding ourselves why we’re protesting, we came to a conclusion: na person wey dey alive go fuck. 

    MONDAY:

    My biggest fears are coming to fruition. Two people in Lagos were shot by the police today. I was afraid of people losing their lives during this protest because people lose hope when the shootings start. However, it seems like the more they kill us, the more young people are ready to push for basic human rights. I’m concerned the protests will become a full-scale riot, and I hope that we don’t get there. 

    For me, this is bigger than a SARS Protest. We are at the point where Nigerians are finally fighting for what they believe in. We finally have a voice and can demand better.

    We’ve proven to govt and international bodies that Nigerian people will no longer be pushed around. That’s a major win for me even if the protest doesn’t meet its objective of ending Sars. 

    I have to work today, so I’ll support the cause on social media. Tomorrow, I go again. I’m pulling up with my guys physically to make sure that our voices are heard. Or I will stay back to document that we spoke, and the government was silent while we died.


    Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life ” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill this form.

  • #NairaLife: “The Cost Of Planning My Life Around Avoiding SARS”

    Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

    This week’s #NairaLife is an attempt to explore some of the costs that exist and prices people have to pay because SARS just won’t leave them alone.

    Tell me about the first time it happened. 

    To avoid traffic, I used to leave the house very early – as early as 4 am – and leave work as late as 10 pm. There was this road on my way home – it was always dark at night, and the rule on dark roads is to drive really fast. 

    Out of nowhere, I saw flashlights at the side of the road, police-style. But I was too close to stop. If I’d tried to stop, I’d probably have killed myself. 

    Because of your car. 

    Yes. An SUV. Next thing, I just heard kpa! Kpa!

    Gunshots? 

    Yes. I don’t know if it was two or three, but the shock drove me to stop. Thinking about it, that was a stupid thing to do. They could have shot me when I came down from the vehicle. I came down and started screaming “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I was too angry. I can’t even remember if they slapped me, but I heard “I go slap you now! Wey your driver’s licence?!” and all that. My papers were complete, and when they couldn’t find anything to hold me for, they said I had to pay for the bullets. 

    Uhm, what? 

    After all my resistance, they took me to an ATM, and I withdrew ₦20k to give them; ₦10k per bullet. 

    I carried my damaged car for about a year before I sold it. But that wasn’t the only time it happened. 

    When did it happen again? 

    I went to see my parents. I didn’t even drive. I took an Uber because I realised that every time I drive, it ends with harassment or something getting spoilt in my car because of bad roads. I don’t even let my Uber drive to my house because of how bad the roads are. I was taking an okada for the rest of the way home when SARS officers stopped my okada. 

    They asked me where I was going, I told them. They asked me what was in my bag, I told them it was my laptop. They asked me to open it, and when I refused, one of them slapped me. 

    They grabbed the bag, opened it and saw a Macbook. 

    “Na Apple?! Na Apple be this?!” Another slap. A black bus came out of nowhere, and they were dragging me into the bus. I started screaming, hoping people would intervene. No one did. 

    Man. 

    They successfully dragged me into the bus and took my phone. It was an iPhone. 

    More Apple. 

    They forced me to unlock it, tried to read my chats, but they didn’t find any. They kept asking for my Facebook, which I don’t have. 

    “We go reach station today!” 

    When we got to the station, they took me to the back of the building, sat me on the ground and slapped me. They kept saying, “You be G Boy! Apple! We know your type!” Luckily for me, I had my ID card, and I showed them. 

    What did they say?

    “Alaye, all this one na story!” 

    I asked for them to let me call my lawyer, and what did these people say? “Where you think say you dey wey you go dey call lawyer?” They asked me to unlock the computer, and I don’t know where the confidence came from, but I refused. 

    I might kill myself one day, because I started screaming. “I no fit unlock am, na company property. You wan steal company money?” 

    One policeman came from inside the station and told them to allow me to make a call. I called my lawyer friend and when they spoke to him, they kept yelling, “So you be lawyer for this G boy?!”

    I dunno what my friend said, but when the call ended, they started saying, “Chairman, drop something.”

    When they eventually released me, one of the officers said, “We’ll catch you again, no worry.”

    When I got home, I told my mum I was never coming home again. 

    I imagine your friends have stories. 

    My flatmate was travelling across Southwest Nigeria and found himself on a highway with SARS. They told him they were going to kill him there, and nothing would happen. Since then, any time he’s driving and sees a police checkpoint ahead, he legit starts having panic attacks. 

    One of my other friends walked past a SARS point with his brother, and they grabbed them for nothing. He didn’t even argue;  he just went to an ATM, withdrew ₦100k for himself and his brother, and went on his way. 

    It got so bad for me that I had to leave my neighbourhood. 

    Because of SARS?

    Partly, but it was also just a bad neighbourhood where parking my car outside was a problem. And because it was a bad neighbourhood, SARS always came. I moved to a new side of Lagos, and I stopped experiencing SARS trouble. 

    Where? 

    Lekki. I moved before I could afford to. In fact, I had to take a company loan to be able to meet my rent in Lekki. My salary was ₦500k, and I took a loan of 1 million. This was in 2017.  

    It feels like a fortification for you. 

    It is o. Other efforts, I must say, might perhaps my car? So, my glass is tinted, and policemen tend to not want to offend powerful people. In fact, I’m considering getting police plate numbers. They cost up to 300k. 

    But even within my fortification, I still get profiled by my mostly older neighbours. What do you think they think of a person who hardly leaves the house because he’s been working remotely before the pandemic? 

    Beyond your personal life, it looks like this is a corporate problem. 

    Yes. Where I work, whenever you get arrested by SARS, you call the legal team at the office immediately. Even if you’re only able to call after, they double down to try to retrieve whatever was collected from you. 

    I work in tech, and at my company, we built a tiny, hidden in-house app. Once I open it, it triggers an alert to my company’s Slack channel, sending my live location and my name. 

    So, any time SARS stops anybody, if they’re able to, they just need to open that app, and everyone in the office knows where they are. 

    We worry about making it public because SARS guys might learn about it. But we want to at least start talking to companies to start using it. 

    What other hidden costs exist? 

    For me, when I want to hire people on my team, I have to consider where they live. Always. Once they mention one of those SARS hot spots like Shomolu, I start to mentally calculate the salary amount that it’d cost for them to move to a better neighbourhood. 

    I remember one of my team members moved after he was assaulted by policemen. He borrowed money and found the cheapest possible apartment.

    Another reason why this is important to me is that a lot of people on the team carry their laptops home. That means that if SARS accesses their computers, they might be able to access sensitive customer information that needs to be safe.

    How does this dread make you feel about your future in this society? 

    The thing is, even though I want to give my children, whenever I have them, a better passport, I still want them to be able to think of this place as home. Take me for example, I can japa, but I would have to leave my mum, dad, brother. I can’t carry all of them. Leaving Nigeria won’t give me peace of mind. 

    Ah, looks like there are serious stakes on the family front. 

    Well, I’m the firstborn, for starters. I have four other family members. I’ve essentially just taken the burden, or responsibility of my siblings. My dad is retired, my mum runs a shop. If the burden of my two siblings goes back to my parents, that’s going to be disastrous. 

    Currently, 25% to 30% of my income goes to my family monthly. It’s everything, allowances for all of them, food for the house. One of them is a student, so there’s always a school thing to pay for. 

    How many per cent of their monthly expenses do you think it currently covers?

    And that’s just monthly. There’s the occasional stuff; rent for myself and siblings, school fees. I bought all the phones in the house. 

    I actually don’t want to think about it, I just accept it as part of life.

    There’s always a moment when you realise that you’re the new breadwinner.

    It was my younger brother’s first school fees for me. My parents could not afford to pay, even though It cost about 180k. There was also the hostel rent. That was when it dawned on me that I’d taken on a new role in the family. Random, but it’s quite ironic that our parents aren’t proactive about #EndSARS, especially since many of their children are victims.

    There’s the pressure of me wanting to take my siblings out of that environment because it’s just not safe. They haven’t had any bad SARS experience, but they don’t have to. 

    You work in tech, that makes you a sitting duck for starters. 

    Look, I made locs, and I had to cut them because I didn’t want problems. The only reason I’m really scared of SARS is that people need me. 

    Another thing I’ve seen with every SARS video I’ve seen – and even my own experience – nobody is going to help you. It shouldn’t be. 

    Over to you, in what ways has SARS affected how you navigate your personal life?

  • Now That The IGP Has Dissolved SARS. What Next?

    Citizen is a column that explains how the government’s policies fucks citizens and how we can unfuck ourselves.


    Earlier this afternoon, the Nigeria Police Force tweeted that SARS has been dissolved.

    In 5 points, the Public Relations Officer of the Nigerian Police Force, Frank Mba, stated that SARS has been dissolved in the 36 state commands with immediate effect and that all men serving in the Unit will be redeployed to other Police Commands, Formations and Units.

    He also stated that a new policing arrangement for tackling Armed-Robbery and other violent crimes will be unveiled soon, a Citizens and Strategic Stakeholders Forum will be launched, and an investigative team will be set up to deal with the reports of crimes committed against citizens.

    Now, Let’s Break It Down:

    1. Don’t Trust The IGP

    First, it is important to shamelessly plug that this is not the first time SARS have been reformed (or acclaimed to have been reformed). So, what is the assurance that this “dissolution” will work?


    Read: 5 Different Times SARS Have been “Reformed”


    The way it appears (since 2017), the Police Force Headquarters itself cannot properly control this officers. And this is why everytime the IGP makes an order about a new SARS reform, you hear that SARS officers are still terrorising citizens somewhere, at almost the same time.

    2. Where are the SARS officers going?

    Secondly, what is that number 2? I  mean the second point? It reads:

    “All officers and men serving in the Unit will be redeployed to other Police Commands, Formations and Units”.

    Is the IGP whyning us?

    SARS officials will be redeployed to other units? So what will they be going there? Playing Ludo with citizens? Of course, they’ll continue what they used to do before! Robbing and extorting Nigerians.

    What I would have thought the IGP would have ordered was that every State Police Command will be ordered to conduct an assessment of the SARS operatives im their command, grade each of them on past records/performances and deal with the “bad eggs”, after which the fairly responsible ones can be further retrained before being deployed to another unit.

    You don’t just take a SARS officer and put him another unit. The man hasn’t changed. Omo, once a SARS always a SARS, I think.

    3. Do The Police Feel Remorseful?

    Remorse is an important thing, and it helps us determine if the Police are truly sorry for their actions over the years.

    But in this new order, you can hardly find remorse in it. Is the Nigerian Police really ready to reform itself and stop terrorising Nigerians even more than the criminals they are supposed to protect? I really don’t think so.

    In fact, there’s nothing in 5 point memorandum that makes me think so.

    WHAT MANY PEOPLE WANT

    To many Nigerians, this directive is just another false alarm. The Police have issues many (many) statements on SARS reforms, and this particular statement is no different.

    What I think will truly show that the message of young Nigerians has clearly been passed across is a clear statement from everyone in the Muhammadu Buhari Administration admitting that yes, the Police have failed and that SARS will be banned while proper police reforms will happen within the next three to six months.

    The President can decide to make a broadcast (which is better), and some sort of Executive order must be signed to show that SARS as a Police unit is ended.

    But look, nobody has to strictly follow any of the processes above. We’re tired of audio reforms. SARS must end, and the Government must reform the Police. Seriously.


    If there’s any information you think is important for us to cover ASAP, please let us know.

    Find more information on the EndSARS Movement here

  • #EndSARS Protests: President Muhammadu Buhari Finally Responds

    After the series of #EndSARS protests across states in Nigeria yesterday, President Muhammadu Buhari finally addressed Nigerians through a series of tweets sent out from his Twitter handle. The tweets were posted at 9:41 PM. Here’s what he said:

    I met again with the IGP tonight. Our determination to reform the police should never be in doubt. I am being briefed regularly on the reform efforts ongoing to end police brutality and unethical conduct, and ensure that the Police are fully accountable to the people.

    The IG already has my firm instructions to conclusively address the concerns of Nigerians regarding these excesses, & ensure erring personnel are brought to justice. I appeal for patience & calm, even as Nigerians freely exercise their right to peacefully make their views known.

    The vast majority of men and women of the Nigeria Police Force are patriotic and committed to protecting the lives and livelihoods of Nigerians, and we will continue to support them to do their job.

    The general response to this update from the president is that the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) should be scrapped, not reformed.

    The protest continues today. Here are some updates as posted on Twitter.

    https://twitter.com/ladytiffs_/status/1314840304827207682

    More updates coming soon.

  • “I’ll Only Return To Nigeria If There Was A War In England”- Abroad Life

    The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad.



    Today’s subject on Abroad Life is a woman who left Nigeria seven years ago. She’s lived in Scotland and England so far. She talks about how leaving religion made all her friends cut her off, and how she’s grown past the idea of living in Nigeria. 

    First things first, how long have you been in the UK?

    I came to the UK for college in 2013, but I was in Scotland for about a year. In 2014, I started undergrad in London. 2017 to 2018 was my master’s, I went back to Nigeria for a year to do NYSC. I got married in Nigeria, and I moved back this year. So that’s roughly seven years. 

    Did you initially move with your family?

    All my siblings were in the UK by the time I moved.

    How did you feel when you started living in Scotland?

    In college in Scotland, you’d see girls with purple hair, tiny shorts, crop tops. Scotland is cold and I don’t know how they managed to pull that off. Before I moved to the UK, I had done a year of undergrad atin Niger Delta University (NDU). There, you couldn’t wear sleeveless clothes past the gate. The security man would embarrass you. Another weird thing in Scotland was professors and teachers telling us to call them by their name.

    Culture shock?

    Definitely. During orientation, I met a bunch of people, and we became friends in the first week. There was an Indian, a Pakistani, a Russian, some Columbians and some Scottish people in our squad. It was in bonding with these friends I realised that once you’re out of Nigeria, you need to watch the way you speak. There are some things you’ll randomly say in Nigeria that you can’t say here because they’re not “progressive.”

    Did you have an incident?

    Yes. One time in college, I was talking about God with a friend, and her friend was there. She was Muslim, I was Christian, and he didn’t believe in God. I remember saying something along the lines of “Well, I won’t discriminate against you if you don’t believe in God,” and the atheist guy got a very bewildered look on his face, like “What does that even mean?”

    Haha. Did you say you “were” Christian?

    Yes, but leaving religion wasn’t due to culture shock. I blended into British culture as much as I could. My religion was part of my social life. When I left Scotland for England, all my major friends for at least one year were church mates. It was a lot of fun. We used to go out to a lot of parties and clubs a lot. It was great. But I was already getting some progressive ideas.

    Leaving religion was because of religion itself. I started dating my husband when I was religious. I used to be a Jehovah’s Witness. In 2018, one of our big conventions was coming up, and at that point I had already red flags with religion. I had questions. So I decided that I was going to listen and study this time during the convention and let the word dig into me and all of that. It was that extra listening that messed everything up. Everything just started sounding very very silly. 

    It was a three-day program and I was supposed to invite my husband to part of the third day, but I couldn’t because I was just there thinking “If he hears any of this, he’s going to think I’m crazy.”

    That was the beginning of the end.  I started researching and watching a bunch of videos and that was it. Apart from when I moved to Nigeria and had to make my mum happy and all of that, that convention was the last time I stepped into anything close to a Kingdom Hall. 

    How did that change your perception of life?

    First off, I lost my social circle because everyone cut me off. After that, it was just an extra fear of death. Before, I used to believe in resurrection after death. But now I had to accept that it was just a final sleep.

    Even till now?

    Yes. But I channel those thoughts into loving more and appreciating life. Because I only have one, I might as well make the most of it. I stopped restricting myself to opinions and views I had in the past. I just owned it and then I reconnected with some old friends. Leaving religion was scary, isolating and free.

    That’s cool. What’s it like living in England?

    I live just outside London. It’s been weird because of Covid-19 and lockdown so everything is on hold. When we moved, we went to London a lot because London is 30 minutes from where we are if you use a train. We would go to the theatre, restaurants, or shows. We saw Dave Chapelle live. I slept. 

    Then we went into lockdown. During lockdown, I started baking and my husband started working from home. So we would be home 24/7. We would bake, eat, sleep, watch a movie, and record videos for our YouTube channel. 

    What kind of videos do you make?

    We review Nollywood movies.

    I’m also job hunting. 

    How’s that going?

    Very stressful.

    I started job hunting when I got here. Covid-19  was teasing, but it wasn’t that deep. I was applying for jobs at universities because that’s kind of the space where I want to be. When lockdown happened and the schools closed, the jobs went on hold too. There was really nothing to do so I put my job searching on hold. A couple of months ago, I started applying again, so many people have become unemployed as well so the job market is full.

    Do you think it could be harder for you to find a job because you’re not British?

    Not right now.  Before I went back to Nigeria, I was job hunting and a lot of my problems were because I needed my visa to be sponsored. I almost got some jobs but because I did not have residence and they couldn’t sponsor my visa I lost the opportunities. But now they don’t need to sponsor my visa because I have a spouse visa.

    Wait. Please explain that for Nigerians like me who don’t understand.

    When you’re on a student visa, you can switch to a work visa if you get a job and the company is willing to sponsor your visa. They’re not paying money for it or anything. They’re just saying “This person is in the UK because they work for us.”

    Not every company has a sponsorship license and getting one is not so easy. So they would rather just interview and hire a lot of home and EU people. But my husband is a resident here, so after we got married, I got a spouse visa which means I’m technically a resident as well. 

    Does it mean you can stay there forever?

    Something like that. When my visa expires in about three years, I need to apply for an extension, and then after the extension, I need to apply for my resident visa. British people will always look for a way to eat your money for you to stay.

    What are the chances that all of this will work out?

    Very high. As long as you’ve gotten your first spouse visa, you’ll get the second one, except they have reason to believe that you and your spouse are not really married. It’s easy from there on. You’ll get your citizenship in about 5 years. 

    Nice, so you’ll be a British citizen soon. Does that excite you?

    I don’t think about it a lot. I just want it for the passport. I want to travel. Visa applications are the worst. I feel I wasted my uni years studying instead of travelling. I had a friend who said she was feeling stressed so she went to Italy for a day. You can’t do that unless you have a visa, but having the red passport is a beautiful thing. 

    I can’t wait to start travelling. Tickets are actually very cheap. The last time I went to Paris, a round trip ticket was about £60. I want the freedom of the passport.

    What would make you come and live in Nigeria again?

    I’ll only come back and live in Nigeria if there was a war in England I can’t go anywhere else. 

    I don’t hate Nigeria or anything, but being there really stresses me out. When I moved back to Nigeria for a year, I didn’t feel like I really fit in anymore.

    Why?

    I was biting my tongue on a lot of stuff even the things that I decided to talk about would have my mother freaking out.  

    I like to consider myself as one of the most benign feminists ever, but in my area in Nigeria my views were considered too extreme. I would say something simple and the older ones would be losing their minds. 

    I did NYSC, but there are parts of it that were kind of a humiliating experience and that just killed the whole Nigerian experience for me. Imagine someone inspecting my NYSC uniform and telling me to turn around or someone giving me a blade to cut my NYSC uniform because they don’t like it. 

    It sounds silly but those are things that put me off from coming back to live in Nigeria. I can fight for my rights here with my chest,  but you can’t do that in Nigeria because they will mess you up. Imagine trying to claim that you know your rights with a Nigerian police officer. I think I’ve taken myself away from that culture and going back into it will be hard.

    I also have learnt to dissociate myself from the idea that I have to be smart because someone might be trying to cheat me and I don’t want to have to learn that again.  

    What do you miss about being in Nigeria?

    My friends and my family.

    What’s the best thing about living in the UK?

    Freedom. I feel more like myself if that makes sense.

     And I don’t have to fight to go to the market.

  • #EndSars Protests Are Ongoing All Across Nigeria

    Citizen is a column that explains how the government’s policies fucks citizens and how we can unfuck ourselves.


    #EndSARS protests are currently ongoing across different cities in Nigeria. Remember that many celebrities had tweeted that they will be leading #EndSars protests. 

    Amidst celebrity promises and tweets against SARS brutality, groups of young Nigerians have also decided to conduct their own protests to #EndSARS in the country.

    https://twitter.com/simbzzz/status/1314127972165660674
    https://twitter.com/TopeAkinyode/status/1314137973651386370

    Read: SARS Was Created When The Police Ran Away


    SARS’ Brutality

    SARS is the Special Anti-Robbery Squad, a “tactical unit” of the Nigerian Police Force dedicated to fighting armed robbery in the country. However, the squad is notorious for extorting young Nigerians, illegally arresting them and subjecting them to many human rights abuse.

    Last week, there were unconfirmed reports of SARS killings in Ughelli, Delta State Nigeria. And while the Police have called those videos “false and malicious”, SARS still remains a nagging issue for many Nigerians.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yW1UAkdS0b8

    At the end of the day, the message from many Nigerians is clear: SARS needs to end. But will it?

    Read: Can SARS End?

    Check back every weekday for more Zikoko Citizen articles.