BY GEORGE ONAH, PORT HARCOURT
TIme was about 3.00 p.m. on Monday October 17, 2011. The location was Ikwerre Road Mile 1 Diobu Port Harcourt. Two men clad in mobile Police khaki uniform were spotted clutching two AK47 rifles at the entrance and exit gate of the Mile 1 branch of Diamond Bank. No one gave special attention to their presence there because armed uniform men around banks in Port Harcourt and indeed all banks across the country is a common sight.

At about 3.05 p.m. this writer slipped into his car, which was parked in the adjacent premises of the bank, overlooking the Mile 1 (Rumuwoji) Market. A simple but imposing wall, capped by barbed wire, separates the bank’s premises and the building housing many businesses, including Vanguard Newspapers.

As the engine of the car roared into life and was steaming, the giant gates of the bank almost immediately were flung open by the bank’s private security men. Seconds later, a white Hilux van, covered with green tarpaulin, rolled gently through the gates as it made towards the crowded Ikwerre Road. Within these seconds, this writer’s car had started reversing gently into the road while waiting for the flood of cars on the road to flow pass.

Burst of gunfire

But as the seconds ticked and while observing the rear view mirror and waiting to hit the road, a burst of gunfire suddenly rented the air and scores of bullets crashed through the rear windshield of this writer’s car. In that split moment the survival instinct in man propelled this writer to dive for cover within the car, tucking the head and upper frame of the body into the leg room of the front passenger’s seat.

My legs were hurriedly curved under the steering wheel, stepping on the accelerator and brake pedal at the same time. Because the driver’s seat was shifted sufficiently backwards, in view of this writer’s height, there was enough room to hide.

More gunshots echoed around the car and the Hilux van, causing commotion on the busy road as marketers screamed and commuters scampered for safety in different directions. The van managed to speed into the road, for less than a pole from the bank, but was immediately blocked by the get-away car of the gunmen that had been stationed in the neighbouring premises of the bank.

Like lightning, the two gunmen who had been spotted at the gate earlier, ran towards the van and like a rehearsed military combat drill, they opened fire simultaneously on the driver and the lone armed mobile policeman sitting next to the driver.

Very quickly, the door of the van was opened and the AK47 of the now lifeless police escort was removed from his lap. The escort must have made efforts to fight back because his body was seen resting on the driver even as the driver still sat upright with his hands clutching the lower part of the steering.

The policeman may have attempted to take cover under the dashboard of the van before responding to the enemy fire. But his effort was too late and useless.

Having eliminated all opposition, the gunmen quickly ran behind the van, tore open the tarpaulin and offloaded three giant jute bags (Ghana-must-go) containing N28 million. While carting off the loot in haste, the men abandoned N1.6million in the van.

Other members of the gang joined the other two in carrying the bags into their get-away car. Like an eagle soaring into the air, the car zoomed off without any challenge from security men. The operation did not last for more than five or seven minutes, which made my hiding in the car, evoke the pain of the pit of hell.

The robbers’ get-away car made a detour off Ikwerre Road and sped through the crowded streets of Diobu community. Eye witnesses said they were probably heading for one of the many water-ways leading to the creeks, which would make a perfect hideout for the thieves.

Mystery behind attack: Those who witnessed the robbery found it confounding that the incident took place in the city centre and in broad daylight without any challenge from security men. The Police Divisional Headquarters in Diobu is less than 200 metres from the scene of the robbery, but ironically, no policeman lifted a finger to stop the robbery.

It was several minutes after the robbery that a filthy armoured personnel carrier from the station drove to the spot. The armoured vehicle, driven by a half-nude policeman  merely showed up for appearance sake. It cordoned off the area, causing onlookers to wonder what the display was all about.

Diamond Bank is separated by three or four houses from two other banks along Ikwerre Road that are guarded by mobile policemen. Also, there are two commercial businesses within the vicinity that are guarded by mobile policemen but help did not come from any of these security men while the shooting lasted.

The security men merely shut their doors during the shooting, while the Diobu policemen stayed back to protect their offices. It was surprising that the daily omnipresent noisy, siren blaring police vehicles along Ikwerre Road were nowhere to be found on the day the robbers struck.

After the robbery, an onlooker asked a question that was directed at no one in particular: “Where have all these policemen who intimidate defenceless civilians gone?”

Experience while hiding in the car: As I folded my frame in the car I remembered only two entities – my God and my family. While remembering God in the scores of prayers which I offered at once, I discovered that I muttered words in some languages.

I am an unrepentant and a diehard Catholic. Speaking in tongues is not a feature of Catholic faithful but the fear in me made me speak a language which I could not even comprehend myself. Whether it was my mother tongue, father tongue, village tongue or Biblical tongue, it did not matter but I know I spoke one language in prayer.

Weapon fashioned

While saying the Hail Mary, I must have lumped it with “Our Father, who art in Heaven”, “Hail Holy Queen” and veered into “I believe in one God”. I also remembered saying that no weapon fashioned against me shall find me in my car, as the bullets were flying and whistling in the air.

I said all these prayers at the same time so that in the event of death I will not be caught without a prayer on my lips. This mumbo-jumbo of mine was what translated into speaking in tongues.  It was then I discovered that fear is like an alarm clock; it wakes you up to do some crazy things just to survive.

At that moment I forgot that I had served in the Nigerian Army for 28 years and fought two wars – Nigerian and Liberian civil wars. On that day, I forgot the several battles I had fought with well-trained and organised armies, not with mere ogogoro-drinking clowns.

I cannot remember whether my training as a soldier came into play on that day. But then soldiers are not trained to die but to stay alive, hence my running to God
in many prayers just to stay alive.

Begged God to spare my life: While begging God to spare my life, I told him that if I die the dreams of my immediate partner, my children and my many dependants would go with the impending removal of fuel subsidy. I told Him that my son whom I named Jesus, but later renamed Jesse, because Catholic priests refused to baptise him with the revered name, would be afraid of the Nigerian state.

I also told Him that there would be confusion in the life of my daughter Jennifer, who was born in March and I was thrown into detention in May 1996-1997 at DMI by the Gen. Sani Abacha administration. I explained to Him that my niece Martina, who is an orphan, may never have the protection of an uncle again and thereby fall into wrong hands.

I informed God too that my two daughters in their husbands’ houses may not earn the respect of their husbands again. It may be possible to hear one of them saying, shut up woman! After all common armed robbers killed your father. I begged God to spare me because my father left 18 children before he died in 1956 but only four of us are alive today.

I chronicled the names of my army of nephews and nieces who see a father-figure in me and who may be jolted that Uncle George was gunned down by common criminals in his Korean-made car in Port Harcourt.  The list is endless. God heard my petition and I survived. When I eventually wriggled out of my car I remembered the saying that – Old soldiers don’t die, they only grow old.