By Ugoji Egbujo

Governor Ambode started well. Meticulous and efficient. But he must be helped to stay on course. Nothing litters Lagos, presently, more than men in immaculate white shirts and black trousers. When you fall into their hands you would realize the police are truly your friend. They may look like doves but their recent proliferation has imposed a sense of siege on road users.

Ordinarily, there can never be too many Vehicle Inspection Officers (VIOs) in a Lagos bedeviled with junk cars and buses, hurtling in all directions, at crazy speeds. The irony, however, is that these Lagos VIOs have no time for commercial buses (Danfos) and commercial motorcycles (Okadas). Okadas and Danfos, unfortunately, contribute 90% of road traffic accidents and traffic confusion in the state. Then the puzzle is, what is the motivation for the mushrooming of VIOs in Lagos? The state can’t be littered with rickety buses and shambolic motorcycles and yet be littered with omnivorous VIOs.

Aggressive law enforcement to satisfy a ravenous revenue generation appetite could be expedient, but it is definitely not virtuous. Government officials and citizens must be encouraged to see the law and law enforcement as having moral rather than commercial foundations.

A few days ago, I left Festac town braced for the menace. Before the U-turn on First Avenue, I had passed through two police stops, unscathed. Policemen are truly friendly. They smiled at me, I smiled at them and threw my hands into the air and they nodded. Such telepathic understanding of each other’s plight. After the U-turn, at the foot of the bridge, the first crop of VIOs were busy jumping in front of moving vehicles, bargaining insistently and furiously scribbling tickets. Busy Monday. A woman was running around ,with confused haste, to nowhere, like a rat in a gum trap. The negotiations had collapsed, evidently. An exasperated VIO was attending to her perceived uncooperative attitude by the exaggerated enthusiasm with which he was scribbling a ticket. The woman who had hands on her head was lamenting profusely, “ how can a 500 naira bread and egg I just left my house to buy put me inside this 20,000 naira wahala?” Poor soul. She was not alone, she was only more hysterical than others who were struggling not to cry.

A few metres away from that melee of ruthlessness, shock and lamentations was the Festac link bridge. A man had packed his car on that bridge 48 hours prior, leapt out, and plunged into the lagoon. His body was retrieved hours later. The suicide epidemic should get the attention of the governor too. Siege mentality won’t help curb it.

Five hundred metres away, beside Fatgbems petrol station, a second crop of VIOs, in their resplendent white gowns, were busy too. And from where they stood, they could see two other sets of VIOs no more than metres away. Sometimes all they did was subjecting same vehicles to second and third inspections, in series. Infernal nuisance. But the state needs a larger IGR. Sandwiched between the VIOs was a team of FRSC officers. With vehicle and safety regulators all over the place you would think Mile Two would be controlled.

Staring at these officials, right on the Oshodi expressway, is the madness of about 500 Okadas parking, picking and dropping passengers with promiscuous abandon. 200 metres behind, at second rainbow bus stop, the main expressway has been converted to a mini park for Okadas. The Okadas have no head lamps, no rear lights. And many have no number plates. None of the okada riders remembers to wear any helmets. Since Boko Haram crippled the Northeast, Lagos has become a race course for suicidal Okada riders. How these VIOs and FRSC officials operate in the midst of this chaos with equanimity, baffles me. The Agberos at Mile 2, the bus drivers brag, have fixed them with steady returns.

We approached the second group stationed at the mile 2 bridge with trepidation. I was late for a meeting. An irreverent truck driver pushed past us with scandalous recklessness. His pure water truck, permanently tilted sideways, stammered and stuttered and sent a pile of thick smoke to the VIOs through the chimney it has for an exhaust.

The VIOs pinched their noses. They were not bothered by the dying truck. They pointed at my car. I was aghast. I motioned the driver to slow down. I wound down the window and took of my glasses. When he was close enough, I pointed to the coughing truck and the plume of carbon monoxide. He hissed, and waved us on. I like that carry-your- wahala-and-go gesture sometimes. It can save you a lot of time.

At Apapa, Wharf road was blocked by trucks. We descended into the alternative road beside Mobil depot and ran into yet another group of VIOs. The driver handed over his license and the vehicle particulars. I thought we had all they needed. Then he asked for some certificate called ‘LASDRI.’ I explained that mine was a private vehicle, but they are not groomed to be impressed by arguments.

Then I asked if ‘LASDRI’ was compulsory for everyone. They shook their heads and walked away with our vehicle particulars. The driver wasn’t impressed with my inflexibility, he went to plead. One of the officials crept from behind and lept into the driver’s seat. Everything was done with mischievous stealth. I asked if the lack of LASDRI was enough for the car to be impounded. They smiled but gave no answer.

“How much is the fine for not having LASDRI?” I asked. He would only tell me when we reached their office. He was adamant, he must drive my car. Once we got into their compound, they locked up the car and asked us to hang around in the blazing heat. Everything is done clandestinely. “Where is your boss, whom we took for granted was behind us?” I asked. He smiled again, I must be naive. I walked away. The boss came later, at his time, and tried to negotiate with the driver. The driver hesitated, and he was issued a N20,000 ticket.

There, was a driver whose monthly salary could have been N18,000 naira if I were Lagos state government. He was being asked to pay a N20,000 fine for not having a certain LASDRI certificate that’s costs N3000. LASDRI may have been conceived to improve drivers just as vehicle inspection must have been conceived to rid the city of rickety okadas and poisonous vehicles. But the result of mercantilism is clear. Corruption is inevitable because the sanctions are disproportionate, not just to the gravity of the offences but to the prevailing incomes of offenders. The officials prance about town in white gowns and aren’t bothered about an Eko that is a maze of confusion, once their revenue targets and pockets are met. The ordinary people, assailed from all angles, wilt.

Eko Oni Baje oo.