Recap
Part Two ended with our tense release and an alarming warning of another attack nearby. In this final installment, I reflect on the aftermath — the trauma, shocking discoveries about the kidnappers’ network, and an unexpected second blow from a place I thought was safe: my church.

Flashbacks and the Aborted Mission

As we got out of the danger zone along the dangerous highway and closed in on Lokoja, word had started going out about our release courtesy of our ransom bearers. Sooner than later, relatives who had been tracking us through Kelvin and others started making calls. No one could reach us directly because they collected all our phones and other valuable. As for me, my entire backpack was taken. While still in captivity, the gang leader started wearing my pair of shoes and other clothes. I remember him heating me with those sticks herdsmen use on cows on one of those days we were calling family for ransom, while wearing my shirt and shoes. That took the pain to another level, but what can you do, absolutely nothing. Another wore my COZA Evangelism T-Shirt with ‘Team Pyakassa’ which was my evangelism team for COZA Lugbe boldly written on it. On one of those cold nights, I remember the Akwa Poly lecturer who was kidnapped with us lamenting how the kidnappers used the wrapper his wife had packed for him to shield themselves from cold, while we gnashed our teeth in the freezing night. It was worse that night because it rained. So, drenched from hair to toe, we lay there, it was myself and him that were chained together. I remember him saying ‘’Nten look at stark illiterates that no matter the size of A that I write on the board, they will not know, they are the ones mistreating me in the bush, boys that I can beat five of them combined at a go’’. I just hissed and lowered my head in grief. It reminded me of what we usually say in local parlance, ‘Life no balance’. The helplessness is on another level. I remember on one of those nights when we were calling family members for ransom, some of the kidnappers were already drunk. As we sat in a circle taking turns with the calls, two of them started making sexual advances at the ladies and touching them inappropriately. The ladies will be shifting towards us for protection, but we could not help. In fact, if you as a guy got too close to any of the ladies, you will be whooped. We could see some of them teardrop for being objectified. It took the intervention of the gang leader who shouted them down for them to stop. He was a business-minded person who never got carried away. In fact, he hated any of such because it was against their rules. One of the things they hated the most was a woman in her menstrual circle. They kept asking ‘’anybody get blood for nyiash here? We later got to find out that menstrual blood weakens their charms, hence they would rather have you leave or kill you and dump the body somewhere far, than have you in their midst. Because of that, one of the women who lost her weeks-old pregnancy due to trauma in the forest could not even clean herself properly because one of the terrorists would have to escort her. She was lucky to have worn a pair of black trousers which helped conceal the blood, but stains must have marked where she sat. “Who get blood for nyash here,” the men kept asking, and then she identified herself. When we showed concern she just told us to pray for her.. As we later found out, she had to be treated for an infection in the cervix upon release because she could not access medical attention for proper evacuation and clean-up. Such were the terrible experiences we all had. Our bodies were sore with pain because where we were kept was rocky with pebbles everywhere. We had to gather leaves to rest our heads as we gazed into the clouds waiting for the day we would leave. I remember seeing a snake coming down from a tree under us. We called their attention, and they simply waved it aside, until the snake decided to go another direction. By this time, we all stank, having not had a was for 7 days. To keep our breaths semi fresh, we resorted to chewing sticks like primitive cavemen. We had to recall what trees are not poisonous from our early years in our respective villages. Choosing what trees to cut as chewing stick gave us a small moment of laughter as we laughed as those who had no idea of any tree that can be used as chewing sticks. Several moments united us as a family, especially when they had threatened to free all of us and hold back the newly graduated chef guy who was going to Abuja in search of a job. His ransom was so small that the kidnappers could not take it. So, as we prepared to leave the forest, they announced that they will have to kill him or keep him back until his family raises more money. In that moment of how do we beg these people, because you can beg and get yourself beaten, the eldest man among us just lay down flat and started begging. The next moment, we were all flat on the floor begging too. That act triggered the humane part of the gang leader who simply tapped the old man and said, ‘’you reach to be my papa, stand up’’. As the old man stood up, the kidnapper did not bother telling us to stand up too, instead he scolded the rest of us, saying it was because of the old man that he is freeing the guy. He later ordered us up our feet.

As we recalled all of these events, it started dawning on us that we have missed all the events that were taking us to Abuja. I was officially on leave at my work place, but had a side gig I needed to tidy up, with the Wole Soyinka Center For Investigative Journalism under the CMEDIA Project, but all had to wait. Chidimma was supposed to be a chief bride’s maid at her friend’s wedding that weekend; in fact, some of the things needed for the wedding were with her. Our lecturer friend who at the time was the branch chairman of the Nigerian Society of Engineers in Eket, Akwa Ibom state, missed his function. Three ladies were heading to the NYSC orientation camps in Kogi and Abuja. All were aborted due to the incident.

Third Party Complicity

From the point we were attacked, it was clear to any discerning mind that the way the operation went, information may have been shared.

First, it started right inside the bus. Ours was a business class shuttle, so it was just common sense to reason that those who are willing to pay an extra five thousand naira or more, should be able to raise a certain amount of money as ransom, so we were a target. As earlier mentioned, there was this gentleman in the bus who never uttered a word in the course of the trip till we were ambushed. He wore some special kind of headset and was constantly on the phone. Out of the fourteen of us, he was the only person, save for the two old people and the driver that were spared. He was giving real time information about our trip till the time we were ambushed.

Second, when we were taken to the spot we were to camp at the forest, we met five other people that were already kidnapped, as I mentioned earlier. As we settled among them, they were obliged to advise us on how to behave so we do nott get unnecessarily beaten. In the course of our conversation on the possibility of a rescue by security personnel, one of them told our lecturer colleague that nothing of such is going to happen. Probed further on why he was so sure of that, he told us that he is a commercial driver who uses a Sienna to make a living. So, when he asked the gang leader what would become of his vehicle when he pays the ransom because that is what he uses to feed his family, the kidnappers clearly told him that when he pays the ransom, he should go to the police station in the nearby community and tell them that he wants to carry his vehicle, the police will allow him do so. It was a shocker, but that was not all.

Third, on one of the sunny afternoons, I think it was on day three, while we sat gaping at the bright skies, we saw a domestic dog sniffing the ground close to us, and moments later, a hunter shouldering a Dane Gun walked past us. Our kidnappers ordered him to move fast and leave the place. Surprised again, we wondered why he could not go and either report to the police or summon others like him or report to the village or community head for action. But later, after our release found out that there is an ungodly alliance between them and some of the parties mentioned. It then dawned on us that except we have money, we were totally helpless.

Fourthly, we overheard a stunning exchange between the kidnappers in the period we being harassed to call family members to raise the ransom On this particular  day, they were not impressed with the amounts some of our families had raised. Infuriated, the gang leader told us, ‘’make una thank God say our Oga get church program this weekend for Lokoja, so e no go come forest come visit us. If not, if e come here come hear the kind small money una de call, e go just collect gun shoot una’’. ”una know how much be bullet’’?, he asked as if we were supposed to know. We all went dead silent in shock. So, the one providing the arms and bullets is a dedicated church member in town? Just wow. No wonder on the day we were to be released, the gang leader asked me to add all the monies realised and give him a total. When I did the calculation, he had to call two other gang members to come and hear from me to confirm the amount so he will have a witness before oga. 

Another shocking thing we were exposed to was the courage, confidence, audacity, and guts with which they carry out their operations. Well, guns and charms would naturally give you confidence before unarmed citizens begging to live one more day like we were, but threatening security personnel, was the height of it. When Kelvin and the others were bringing the ransom, they (the kidnappers) were occasionally calling to keep track of their movement. As I had mentioned earlier, Kelvin could not take his call at one point because they were in front of an army checkpoint. When he eventually took his call after they passed the checkpoint, they warned him never to try that again, and declared with an unthinkable confidence, If dem collect that money for any checkpoint, whether na Army or Police, just tell us, we go dia go collect am back. I felt like saying “Répétez, s’il vous plaît”, because I needed to hear that again, but yeah, he just said that. They also love to prove a point and dare the authorities. They even told us on one of those days that that entire axis of the road belongs to them. They boasted that no police or army can come near there. Guess what? I totally believed them because on the night we were released and headed back to Lokoja, we did not drive more than five minutes before we met an army checkpoint. Meaning the gunshots were audible to them from where we were released. As we drove back and the officers we met at all checkpoints asked why we were packed like iced fish in the vehicle, and we told them clearly that we were just released by kidnappers not too far from there, none of them could say, where? Let’s go and find them. They simply congratulated us and asked us to go. That is why gunmen struck Katsina in December 2020, abducting hundreds of school boys, on the same day the then president Muhammadu Buhari was in the state. It makes them feel good that you can’t stop them.

On another occasion when according to the gang leader, we flouted an instruction and made him angry, he asked if we thought he was happy to remain in the forest. He went on to reveal that he did not wish to be a kidnapper, but a politician and the police forced him into becoming one. According to him, he was a cobbler who was making an honest living in Abuja, before he was arrested on trumped up charges. He alleged that the police arrested a criminal who works for a politician, and to get the real criminal out, he was innocently arrested and accused of the crime committed by the real criminal, and made to spend several years, (I think he mentioned seven) at the Kuje prisons, before he was released. So, he decided that he was going to become, in his words, ‘’what Nigerian politicians and Nigerian Police falsely incarcerated him for’’. In fact, he was very happy with the July 05 2022 Kuje prison break, as according to him, innocent brothers of his were freed. He went on to mention that right now, they are getting tired of kidnapping ordinary Nigerians that they have to squeeze money from through threats and beating. Instead, they want to be kidnapping those ones that ‘’drive big  cars wey get black mirror so that you no fit the person inside’’. They know that those ones have more money because they were lucky to kidnap one, and in a matter of hours, good money exchanged hands.

But on this day, he was angry because they had attempted to intercept one of those SUVs, but it turned out it was a bullet proof car. He turned to us asked, ‘’shebi una sabi them, wey de drive big motor’’,? We all agreed. But one of the ladies said, ‘’them no de drive for road, na aeroplane them de use and them children de abroad for oyibo country’’. ‘’But when them drop for airport, them go drive for road reach house na’’, another said. ‘’So una sabi them’’? We said yes. ‘’So una fit show us’? there was a brief silence. We did not know what a yes or no to that would bring. Una no wan talk again? So una ready to die for them wey de tif (steal) money, de spoil country?, he shouted and started hitting us in anger. I did not know when we all started agreeing that we knew our governors, senators, house of reps members etc. At that instance, I started scanning my head to see which of the residences of the national assembly members from Cross River State I could remember. Although it did not get to that for us because we were all from distant states from Kogi, trust me, if any one was from Lokoja or any nearby local government area, their boss who was busy with a church program and could not visit them in the forest that weekend, may just have contacted that person. That’s how big men and specific targets get kidnapped in their houses. No one is safe, especially politicians. They were bragging that those who use bullet proof cars will soon hear from them because they will be using mild explosives to down the cars and take the occupants. One day governors, senators, house of reps members, ministers will be kidnapped because of outside sources mingling with us. It is a scary truth. Until government stops playing politics with security, they will face it one day, and it is not far. 

Arrival in Abuja

After we were finally released and began making our way to Abuja, word had already gotten to the park at Utako, where we were scheduled to disembark. So, the management had arranged our luggage for pick up. Unlike myself that Kelvin came to the forest, others had their friends and relatives waiting at the park. As soon as we got there, everyone came out. ‘’Eyaaaaa, sorry oooo’’ echoed from all corners of the park. Chidimma’s newly wedded friend was there. She broke into tears. Chidinma too, and a few of us who could not hold back tears. Our sight was pitiable. Emaciated, dirty like pigs, smelly and disoriented from trauma. That made us stand out from everyone. But in the midst of pity, others celebrated our release. Multiple ‘’Thank you Jesus’’ resonated from within and without the park. Some burst into prayers of thanksgiving, recalling incidents where ransoms were paid, and the victims were still killed or where ransom bearers were in turn kidnapped. It was a momentarily soothing sight. Then moments later, the park manager came out to offer words of consolation. But we all shouted him down. ‘’It was the fault of your driver, he knew the road was not safe, yet he still took it, God will punish you, we will institute a class action to get justice’’, we all ranted as others watched. All he said was that the driver was following instruction. We knew he was not, but the company had to defend him. They were smart enough not to keep him at the park at that moment, he would have gotten the beatings of his life. While we all shouted, the lady who tipped the driver to take that route kept crying. She started crying right from the moment we were kidnapped. She felt guilty she put us all in that situation, but what could she do at that moment? Nothing but cry. Gradually we started departing; one after the other as relatives came to take us home.

Dealing with the Trauma

Back in Abuja, I could not go straight to my apartment. As a father of three, I was too used to the noisy nature of my home to be there alone. The two-bedroom appeared like a deserted duplex. So, I had to stay the first 24hrs with Kelvin. I could barely sleep because of the thoughts of the incident. Now that I was out of danger, the pains from the beating, sleeping on pebbles, in the rain drenched, the aftermath of the cold, the food poisoning and all, came in full force. I needed to go to the hospital. But first, I needed a phone, simple slippers and basic inner wears. After the first 24hrs, I returned to our estate in Masaka, then to the market. At one part of Masaka market, I heard the same version of the Hausa language our kidnappers spoke. In that moment, I froze, right there in the market, and shouted Jesus, while my heartbeat increased dangerously. I had to quickly leave that area, buy what I needed and leave the market. At the hospital, I will occasionally jerk from intermittent naps when I hear footsteps coming, like we did when the kidnappers approach us to give instruction, beat us for flouting one, or bring the phone for us to call family for ransom. Most times someone may be talking to me, and I get lost momentarily, until they have to tap me. I was advised to go be with family and those I care about as part of my recovery process. My family was in Uyo, while my siblings were in Calabar, so I prepared to go to Uyo and see my family, and bring them to Calabar where my mum and other family members were waiting.

While still in captivity, my wife had called our Bishop, now Archbishop inbCalabar, to report the incident, and he prayed and assured her that we would be released safely, and that we should not fail to share our testimony. So, in that chat, my wife asked if we could share the testimony at the headquarters church in Calabar, being that we are in Abuja, and he agreed. I was happy we will go thank God, dance and relate with family and friends, but that turned out the worst nightmare after the kidnap.

My wife kept in touch with the bishop, notifying him of our preparation, and he kept giving the nod, and even said we should tell the resident pastor when it got close. The entire conversation with the bishop was viaext messages and WhatsApp. So chats were available to prove that the bishop gave us the go ahead. Food was prepared, drinks bought, invitations sent out. But a few days to the day, my wife started sensing all may not be well. The resident pastor, his assistant and the bishop’s wife all knew the church was not going to allow us to thank God for my safe return from the Kidnappers’ den, but nobody did us the honor of telling us. Calls were not being returned on time, the resident pastor did not tell us what we needed to do ahead of time because we knew protocol existed. He kept pushing us to his assistant, but we held on to bishop’s word. We needed to thank God for the massive testimony. The church was the best for us. It is our family church. We wedded there and made a vow to stay with it. That notwithstanding, we knew that certain criteria needed to be met to get the approval, but since it came from the bishop himself, and also being that we were not in the headquarters branch, coupled with the circumstance of the kidnaping, we were hopeful. On the D-day, my mother was seated, family members had arrived, members of my club, Mbube Patriots were present. I know that if I am thanking God, the moment my family arrives, we would be shown where to seat. That did not happen. I became apprehensive and worried. I reached out to the resident pastor and vice right in the church, and I was told the bishop did not give approval for me to share my testimony and thank God. In my wildest imagination, I could not believe a thing like that can ever happen. I reached out to my phone, and called the bishop, and he in fact scolded me right there in church. I was shocked beyond words. If my wife did not show me all the messages, I would not have believed it. Well, he told me nothing like that was happening. That I should just enjoy the service and go, and he ended the call. The mockery, the heartbreak, the embarrassment. I burst into tears. I called my mother out of the church hall, called family members, my friend and others, and we left in the most embarrassing moment of my life. The Church that provides safe refuge for even prostitutes, rejected me. I quickly told my in-law who drove us to the church, to quickly drive me home to go meet my wife who was preparing herself and the kids, and tell her not to come. As soon as I broke the news, she was shocked to her marrows. After telling her, I went to receive one or two calls to direct people to the reception at my sister’s place. In a moment, I was told my wife had gone to the church. She felt more wounded and disgraced because that has been her church for years. I joined her prior to our wedding. She felt she should have been given the benefit of the doubt because she had been a long-standing member before our marriage. But at that moment, she meant nothing to the church. They simply drove us out. She actually got to the church, walk to the altar, knelt down and wept. Moments later, I came following because I did not want her to do anything funny out of anger. When she was done crying, she stood up, and left. I met her at the church premises and held her tight. As we were leaving, she almost scooped the sand at the gate to vow that she would never touch her feet there again, but I stopped her. When we got home, she took her phone and started making a Facebook post to denounce her membership of the church, but I snatched the phone and deleted what she had typed. I reminded her that the bishop is not one to publicly ridicule someone in that manner, let alone someone like her whom the bishop took as a daughter since her father died. She recalled him standing by her when she was sick, as well as during our marriage, and I could corroborate that because I had also had reason to handle one or two publicity gigs for his boys. So I told my wife in all confidence that something was wrong. But whatever it was, we did not deserve that. My elder sister mocked me saying we could have gone to her church. Trauma the church was supposed to help me deal with came back in a thousand-fold. I felt worthless. Word soon went out that my so-called church rejected me. Instead of healing, I became depressed. I was just taking pictures and shaking people with smiles outside. Inside I was shattered being. That day I made a Facebook post wishing I were a Muslim, and urging people not to blame those who switch religions. That evening, I hurriedly gathered my family back to Uyo. It was part of my plan because my flight back to Abuja the next day was from Uyo, but I made it earlier because I needed to leave Calabar. The next morning, my flight was 8am, I got to the airport  10 minutes before 8, and I was told boarding had closed. I had missed my flight. At time, I concluded I was cursed or under a spell. I found myself blaming the church all over again. Well, I had to call and raise 65k to be allowed to fly with the next flight to Abuja. Two years down the line, the church rejection episode of the trauma is the last to be obliterated, maybe because I am yet to come to Calabar or step into the church yet. Although the Abuja pastor later called to explain that there was a mix-up from the church leadership, it did not stop the damage. My wife or I could have done something really stupid on account of that, but we thank God whose mercies kept us.

Have I moved on from that episode? Not completely. Do I habour any grudge against the church or anybody in it? God knows I totally do not. However, I hope that opening up and sharing my story will help me get past it finally. Most importantly, I would not want any other person to ever experience the ordeal we went through.. Now that I have opened up, I’m sure I will put this past me finally. This is my kidnap story. And I am eternally grateful to God who gave me a second chance to live.

Reflections

What happened to me on the Kogi–Okene highway is not just a personal tragedy but a sobering indictment of the Nigerian state’s failure to fulfill its most basic duty: the protection of its citizens. The ease with which armed men operate on major highways, abducting travelers in broad daylight, speaks to the erosion of law enforcement capacity and the deepening crisis of governance. Beyond the physical danger lies an equally devastating psychological toll. Many survivors, like myself, live with lingering fear, anxiety, and a profound sense of abandonment. In a country where kidnappings have become disturbingly frequent; so much so that entire communities brace for the next incident, trauma is no longer the exception; it is becoming the national condition.

This normalization of terror is not accidental. It reflects the unchecked rise of armed bandits, terrorist networks, and organized crime groups that now dominate large swathes of the country, exploiting weak borders, poverty, and systemic corruption. My story is just one among thousands, yet each one echoes the same urgent truth: until Nigeria confronts these deeper threats with seriousness, coordination, and the political will to act, our highways will remain killing fields, and our people—whether in motion or at rest—will remain vulnerable to a violence that no longer shocks, but numbs. The cost of silence, of inaction, grows heavier each day.

THE END