In the sprawling expanse of Southern Nigeria, what was once anticipated as a straightforward road journey has morphed into an odyssey fraught with delays and disruptions. The distance, a mere 464 kilometres from Lagos to Aba, traditionally a six to eight-hour drive, now stretches into a gruelling 12 to 16-hour trek. The culprit? A proliferation of security checkpoints has travellers and commuters alike questioning the balance between necessary vigilance and undue hindrance.
The Guardian’s recent investigation during the festive season unveiled a staggering count of over 120 checkpoints on this route alone, nearly doubling in recent times. These barricades, manned by a mix of security agencies and their wooden, sandbagged fortresses, aim to ensure safety. Yet, for many, they represent a gauntlet of extortion and inconvenience, adding upwards of 10 hours to travel times.
Chiamaka’s narrative, a mother journeying home for the holidays, underscores the personal toll these checkpoints exact. Her encounter with five checkpoints within a mere two kilometres, each demanding a “toll fare,” paints a vivid picture of ground reality. More distressing is the demand at some points for passengers to disembark and trek past, a procedure that not only delays but also demeans.
The checkpoints, spanning from major thoroughfares like the Sagamu-Ore-Benin expressway to the arteries within the Eastern states, have become fixtures of fear and frustration. Ostensibly installed to curb crime waves sweeping through the region, their effectiveness is increasingly overshadowed by tales of extortion and harassment. Even the then President General of Ohanaeze Ndigbo, Chief Nnia Nwodo, has raised alarms over the excessive number of checkpoints, likening them to toll gates for the unscrupulous rather than bulwarks against crime.
This militarization of the Southeast’s roads, although initiated under the guise of combating insecurity, has spiraled into a quagmire of graft and gridlock. The narrative has hardly evolved; if anything, the situation has deteriorated, with security operatives now infamous for accepting bribes openly, sometimes even providing “change” to maintain the facade of normalcy.
Yet, amidst the outcry, there remains a contingent that defends the necessity of these checkpoints, arguing they have played a part in the diminishment of criminal activities. The debate rages on whether the price paid in personal freedom and economic cost justifies the purported benefits of security.
The dialogue surrounding the checkpoints in Southern Nigeria encapsulates a broader conversation on governance, security, and human rights. As stakeholders from all sectors call for reform, the enduring hope is for a strategy that secures the roads without sacrificing the dignity and well-being of those who traverse them.
The narrative of Southern Nigeria’s roads, marked by checkpoints and delays, serves as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between security measures and the preservation of civil liberties. As the nation grapples with these challenges, the call for a reevaluation of these security strategies grows louder, urging a path that ensures safety without undermining the freedom and rights of its citizens.
