I climbed a chair to see the President

 BY MAUREEN AZUH

Ignore whatever other Punch journalists are doing there,” the News Editor, Mr. Ademola Oni, bawled at me. “Whether they are talking to officials or any other person, don’t bother. Just get the human angle to the story. Speak with the residents, especially those who escaped from their houses.”

The instruction came immediately I entered the newsroom. That was around 4 pm on Sunday. As a feature person, I had some other stories I needed to tidy up for Monday edition. At such a critical moment, I had no reason to give an excuse.

As I set out, I started calculating how to get to the usually traffic-ridden area without wasting time and missing any story in the process. At Berger, I asked a motorcycle (okada) rider to carry me there, but he refused, despite the fact that I was ready to pay whatever he wanted. Others I approached also declined.

“There’s heavy traffic on that road. We were told a plane landed on someone’s compound,” one of them told me.

So, I had no option than to take a bus to Ogba, from where I boarded a motorcycle to Ishaga. Ishaga was in a terrible state when I arrived there. It was like all the residents of Lagos were asked to gather there. It was not difficult locating the crash site. The crowd led and I just followed.

At the site, it was quite difficult to see or hear anything meaningful. People were everywhere; every available space was taken over. At that point, I jumped over a low fence, after wading through the crowd and approached a man. Fortunately, he witnessed the crash. He also directed me to a house beside the affected buildings, where he said I could find people to speak with.

But just as I was about to leave for the house, a Navy helicopter flew towards the compound, causing everyone to scamper for safety. The stampede and the dust raised by the helicopter was so much that I had to hide my head under the shirt of a young man who was also struggling for safety too. It was good that the guy did not mind as I grabbed his shirt. In fact, he did not even notice until the helicopter landed. With dust all over my body, I still managed to speak with more eyewitnesses.

Day two was better. It was Monday and the President, Dr. Goodluck Jonathan, was expected at the scene. So, the crowd was managed by heavily armed soldiers and riot policemen. On arrival, I boldly approached one of them holding a sniffer dog.

“Yes?” he barked.

“I am a reporter with The Punch,” I told him.

“I have admitted over 15 Punch people into this place. Na everybody for una office wan come here?” he retorted. At the end, he allowed me to pass through the barricade.

I spoke with more residents, who were not evacuated from their homes. By 1pm, the President’s arrival was announced. All journalists were asked to stay in a place, guarded by armed soldiers. At last the President decided to address us. I had always thought I was tall enough for a woman but I was proved wrong when I could not see the President and his entourage. I quickly looked for a chair which I stood on to have a clearer view. But trust gentlemen of the press, I shared the chair with two other journalists.

Tuesday, being the third day, was much better. The evacuation of victims was over and the officials were more relaxed and friendly. Getting them to speak was easier as some of them even spoke without much prompting.

In all, it was a memorable experience – hectic and terrifying too. The corpses I saw in a day were more than the number I had ever seen in my life. But it was not all about tears and agony. Trust Nigerians to find humour in everything. A young man approached me and asked me to interview him.

“I witnessed it. I was drinking beer across this street when the plane crashed,” he said.

But from experience, I know people do not usually volunteer to give information to journalists. I later found out that he was a reporter. like me.