The narration of a concerned elder in Owerri, Imo State, is captured here. I am not a young man who jumps to conclusions. In my village, a t...
The narration of a concerned elder in Owerri, Imo State, is captured here.
I am not a young man who jumps to conclusions. In my village, a titled elder is taught to weigh words carefully, because words can wound. So, hear me well: I am not saying I have seen these things with my own eyes. I am saying these are the fears that now live in our hearts because of what we already know has happened around the Tiger Base Police Unit in Owerri, Imo State.
When a place becomes known for pain, people begin to imagine deeper darkness inside it. One fear people whisper about is punishment without end. Not just beating once or twice, but breaking a person slowly, keeping them awake for days, shining light into their eyes, pouring water on the floor so they must stand all night, denying them sleep until their mind no longer works. An elder knows that when the mind breaks, the body follows.
There is also fear that people will be used as examples. That some detainees are punished more severely, not because of what they did, but to frighten others. To make screams travel through walls so that the rest learn obedience. In our culture, this is how slaves were once controlled, not how citizens are policed.
Another thing people fear is forced false accusations. That innocent people are pressured to name other neighbors, relatives, and business rivals to end their suffering. This kind of thing can destroy a whole community. Once a lie is written down under torture, it lives longer than the truth.
Some elders fear deliberate medical neglect of detainees. Not accidental sickness, but refusal to treat injuries so that pain becomes part of the punishment. Broken bones left to heal incorrectly. Infections ignored. A man can come out alive but ruined forever.
There is also talk, quiet talk, of using detainees for labour. Cleaning, digging, carrying, running errands for officers, not as lawful work, but as humiliation. When a uniformed person uses a citizen like a tool, dignity is lost. What frightens us most is the idea of erasing people from records. That some names never enter any official book. No arrest log. No transfer note. Just disappearance. In our land, even the dead are counted. When someone is not counted at all, it is a very serious thing.
We also fear collective punishment. That when officers are angry at a community, arrests become random. Youths are picked not because of evidence, but because they are available at the time of their arrival. This turns policing into revenge.
As an elder, I fear that children growing up will learn the wrong lessons. When they see that power answers to no one, they begin to believe that cruelty is strength; that is how violence continues from one generation to the next. These fears did not fall from the sky. They grew from stories of pain, from bodies returned without answers, from silence where explanations should be.
That is why we elders now say this:
A place that has gathered this much fear around it must be shut down, not quietly reformed or renamed. Shut down.
Let every detainee be accounted for.
Let every complaint be investigated by people who do not wear the same uniform.
Let the truth come out, even if it shames powerful men.
Because when fear enters the hearts of elders, something is already very wrong.
Written by
Nwaugwu E
Edited by
Chidi Ibe
For States Media Team
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