It's our collective image as Lagosians at stake

On an October evening in 2011, what many Lagosians had long suspected was confirmed. That besides their acting and musical careers, Yoruba entertainers smuggle narcotics out of Nigeria. It’s said that's majorly how they financed their lifestyles; singing or acting was a cover up.

The artiste in the spotlight was multi-award winning Tunde Omidina, who plays vituperative character: Baba Suwe. He was detained at Murtitala Muhammad Airport (MMA) in Lagos enroute Paris. The news broke on Nigeria's Twittersphere to unsurprised comments — “we knew”. The Nigerian Drug Law and Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) paraded the actor in his white-brocade kaftan, looking disorientated.

The agency claimed their scanner detected wrapped morsels in his bloated stomach. Mr. Omidina was led like a felon to a holding cell to do under observation the bowel movement we all do in private. Alas, narcotics he was supposed to have swallowed wasn’t there.

Backtracking false claims is embarrassing and can be terrifying, but we boldly do so to prevent further damages, which are sometimes irreversible. It took the NDLEA 3 weeks to finally backtrack and release Mr Omidina without charge. It was a demeaning treatment, a clear case of harassment and unjust denial of liberty, all for unfounded rumour that had many years occupied collective consciousness of Lagosians, some of whom make up law enforcement.

There are other Lagos urban legends that cause real-life harm: paranoia of night markets visited by ghosts; roadside beggars being secret millionaires; the visibly dishevelled man or woman roaming the streets, sleeping in in open glare or in bushes and gutters, is bewitched, or more bizarre, is a disguised contractor for “money-ritualists” on the prowl for human body parts.

This latter group suffering from deteriorated mental health mostly get caught up in mob hysteria in Lagos that rapidly bubble from an emotive accusation. Most notable victim of such hysteria was Clifford Orji. That scene was replayed this week at Ojokoro and Ile-Zik, and both culminated in immolation of supposed “kidnapper” after a frenzied crowd, desirous to rid beloved Lagos city of kidnappers, had overwhelmed the Police. It is chilling.

For how long shall this clearly unacceptable way-of-being continue unchecked in a city that’s now fifth largest economy in Africa and whose authorities ought to get on with uplifting quality of lives of residents creating the commonwealth?

It’s our collective image as Lagosians at stake here. It’s lives of victims at risk, consumed by widely spread untruths that we refuse to backtrack. And frankly, it’s our own lives at risk too. All that's required to lose your freedom in Lagos, or take a final breath, is an accusing finger and a mob behind.