By Mujahid Ibrahim
This life has a strange way of teaching lessons we never expect. To be precise, for at least two years, now, I had grown accustomed to the comfort of moving around the city in my little car. This has already become my everyday norm. But as petrol prices began to rise in the country, as many other fellow lower class citizens, I found myself reevaluating my choices. Moving by car was sometimes cheaper than hiring an okada or a Keke Napep but unnecessary trips were adding up. This pushed us to begin to consider using a bicycle; cost-effective, healthy, and, I thought, practical.
On this particular evening of 22/12/2024, a friend Saifullah had invited me to a dinner in his house, The venue was just about 3 kilometers away, and I decided to leave the car behind and ride my bicycle instead. “Why not?” I thought. “It’s a short distance, and I’ll save money on fuel.” Little did I know, that simple decision would lead to a night I would never forget.
The dinner was delightful—filled with warm conversations with associates, and moments of reflection.
I left there around 8:00pm, I decided to stop by a mini-market at Wunti to pick up a few essentials before heading home.
My mind, however, was already preoccupied with excitement. Earlier that day, an interview with Prof. IBK by Bello Sagir Imam had been released, and I couldn’t wait to listen to it.
Pedaling through the busy streets around 8:30 p.m., I felt the urge to play the interview right away so that by the time I reached home, I reasoned, I would have finished listening and could dive straight into reading a book gifted to me by a dear friend, Tea Isah. It was an insightful work by Ibn Rushd on the relationship between science, religion, and philosophy.
As I passed beneath the Wunti Flyover, currently under construction, I stopped under the bridge to take out my phone and earphones. The area wasn’t quiet; the bustle of vehicles and pedestrians surrounded me. I felt a sense of safety in the activity, but it was short-lived. Suddenly, the sound of a motorcycle pierced through the hum of the evening.
A brand-new white Moto B sped from behind me, its riders veering dangerously close. Before I could react, the motorcycle screeched to a halt, and two men dismounted swiftly.
“Give us your phone!” one of them barked, his voice sharp and filled with menace.
Startled, I looked up, my heart racing. One of them took a step closer, revealing a knife glinting in the dim light. “If you resist, we’ll stab you,” he threatened. The weight of his words left no room for defiance. ‘Ba zan zura ido yaro karami, ya burma min wuka ba.’ I handed over my phone without resisting at the moment.
But they weren’t done. “The bag,” the other demanded, motioning to the small bag I was holding from my shopping trip. I hesitated for a second too long, and the knife came closer. Without another word, I surrendered the bag, my mind racing with a mix of surprise and disbelief.
In moments, they mounted the motorcycle and sped off through the bustling street, heading toward Gwallaga Juma’at Mosque and approaching the Nasarawa Roundabout.
A kind-hearted bike rider nearby noticed what had happened and offered to help. He tried to chase them, but they escaped into the chaos of the night. I stood there, behind the flyover, feeling a mix of helplessness and gratitude to Allah. Though shaken, I was unharmed. My phone, my bag, and my essentials were gone, but my spirit remained intact. I kept pronouncing “Yaa Allah” and repeatedly saying it several times.
What else should I do? I pedaled home in silence, the incident replayed in my mind. I felt anger, sadness, and frustration, but also a growing sense of determination and thankful to Allah for saving me. This wasn’t just about “me”. How many others had faced similar dangers on these streets? I don’t know. How many more would, if nothing changed?
To the Bauchi State Government, under Gov. Bala Muhammad, the “Modern Bauchi City” deserves better. Rising petrol prices all over the country is already pushing many of us to make such tough decisions as trekking long distances, or riding bicycles as in my own case. However, those choices shouldn’t expose us to danger. Even before the completion of the project, we need safer streets, better lighting in vulnerable areas, and a stronger presence of law enforcement. These flyovers are meant to a symbol of progress, not a haven for crime.
To those in authority, especially the security forces, I urge: please pay attention to these areas especially during night hours. To my fellow citizens, I plead: be vigilant, monitor strength movements around you, stop using phones while on streets, unless it becomes necessary and look out for one another. And to those who find themselves in moments of loss or fear, remember; resilience is our greatest strength. Trust Almighty Allah only after doing your best.
That night under the bridge, Uhmm! I lost possessions, but I gained a purpose. Alhamdulillah that it was not easy for them in my case.
Mujahid Ibrahim wrote in from Bauchi and can be reached via littlemujahid4gmail.com.
