Getting arrested in a public place is never fun. Don’t even imagine it in a security charged Nation like this.
To start with, I’m a stranger; in fact, I don’t know where or
if my home office exist in this Country? Home is many hundreds of kilometers
away.
I don’t speak the language. I don’t know the rules and
regulations that apply. The law is what the guy in uniform says it is and that
depends on a wide range of things, including his mood and one’s skin colour.
2+2 is always 4 right? Not really. It could be 22 or whatever we agree it is
here for peace sake.
A simple gathering to celebrate a national event at the
Freedom Square could turn out to be your worst nightmare if you go with your
camera, intending to capture special moments without following protocol.
Telling my story and that of others with the aid of photos
is a wonderful thing. Sometimes the pictures say everything you’d wish to say
and more. But a camera on your neck here is almost equivalent to a hangman’s
noose. You could lose your freedom or the camera or both.
For me, it won’t be the first time I’d get arrested here for
using my camera at a gathering with VIPs present. For goodness sake, what is
wrong with taking a few shots to remember this
occasion? You may never know until you raise your camera for a shot.
“Hey you with the camera.”
“Yes, can I help you?”
“Give me the camera.” The stern looking guy
reached out to me and grabbed my camera before I could utter a word.
“Can I see your ID card?” He requested.
As I was pulling it out of my wallet, he asked, “Are
you a journalist?”
“No sir, I’m a pastor.” I never use this line here
unless I sense trouble. It almost never fails. He took my ID card
and literally read it front and back.
“Why are you taking photos here? Did you get permission?”
“How do I know you are not a spy?” “Where is your international
passport?” “What organization are you working with?”
“Come, follow me.” My fun ended as quickly as it
started. It was then I noticed the entire place was filled with security personnel, most of them in mufti.
He hands my camera and ID over to another officer who totally
ignored me and muttered something under his breath, expressing a measure of
disdain that spoke volumes.
I stood for a few seconds and then ventured towards him.
Before I could say a word he snarled, “Go away until the program is over,
then you come.” I knew not to argue with him. It irritates some of them when you are black skinned but speak English with a foreign accent.
Four hours later, as I walked toward their office, I
wondered how to present myself to these guys. They’ve shown me some respect as
a pastor by not locking me up in a small room. Should my demeanor suggest I’m
remorseful? What if that gives me away as weak? And they feel, now we’ve got him where we want him.
What if I approach them with a smile? And they says, “So you think this is funny?” Or
should I boldly claim my right? But I
don’t even know if I have any. You never know how your posture could help or
harm you with these guys.
So with every
seriousness I could conjure, I entered their office and began to plead and
totally overwhelmed them with, “I’m
sorry, forgive me.” I gave a brief history of my work here and it helped. They handed me my camera and ID card after
some serious verbal bashing. Humility had suspended judgment and opened a door for ministry.
I picked up my bruised ego from the rubbish heap where they
cast it and asked them if I could pray for them. They agreed. We became friends
and they visited me few days later. It doesn’t always end like this.
you need to use your camera, please get necessary security clearance first.
Above all, listen to your host or guide. Ask them if it’s okay to use a camera. They know better and
can stand up for you if anything goes wrong.
Kingdom Exploits With Uche 