Jerry Adesewo A lucky escape from ritualists

You went missing on Thursday June 21. What exactly happened? I walked out of the Federal Secretariat building [where I had gone to sort out some things] that evening and took a light green Passat taxi. “Area 11 behind NIPOST headquarters,” I announced my destination. “N500” the thick-set man behind the steering retorted. He is […]

You went missing on Thursday June 21. What exactly happened?

I walked out of the Federal Secretariat building [where I had gone to sort out some things] that evening and took a light green Passat taxi.

“Area 11 behind NIPOST headquarters,” I announced my destination.

“N500” the thick-set man behind the steering retorted. He is a fairer version of my secondary school mate, Yongo Emmanuel.

“N500 for what? Na dead bodi you wan Carry? N300 or you go your way,” I said. He contemplated for about a minute before stretching his hand to open the back door for me to come in. I opted instead to sit with him in the front. The fate of the former national president of ANA, Professor Sunnie Ododo, fresh on my mind.

“Make I put you AC, make you enjoy your money,” he announced and immediately wound up the window, just as we approached the Federal Ministry of Health building.

That was the last I remembered as I returned to consciousness hours later to find myself in the midst of five other captives, in blindfolds and chains.

Moments later, a familiar ring tone rent the air. It was my wife calling. Whenever I am returning home late, I always inform my wife otherwise she gets panicky whenever I am not back by 9pm.

“Get that phone,” I heard a voice order, followed by heavy footsteps in my direction.

“That’s my wife calling. Please allow me speak with her,” I pleaded desperately, but no one heeded my plea.

“Shut your mouth, Mr. Man,” the same voice ordered. This was the voice I later came to associate with the gang leader. He cautioned me to keep quiet or be dealt with.

Was there someone you had a quarrel with, someone who would want you dealt with?

I could not but imagine how I got into this mess. I am neither a business man nor a politician. I am not even sure I have any enemy, to have imagined that anyone would plan to harm me. On the other hand, even though I never mentioned to anyone that I was going to pick up the money meant to pay off the artistes waiting for me at the Oasis Garden, I began to think that I was trailed and abducted because of the money.

“Please take the money and set me free. Let me go back to my family I beg you,” I pleaded.

“Which money?” A female voice asked, relaxing the gag on my mouth.

“My money, the money I had with me when I boarded the cab.”

“I don’t know about any money,” she said and walked away, not forgetting to replace the gag.  I broke down in tears. I was to discover moments later that my captors were neither armed robbers nor kidnappers. They are a gang of ritual killers. The end has finally come I concluded. I wept silently. It pained me to the bone marrow that I have to die in such manner, knowing that I have not accomplished my destiny in life.

Did it not occur to you that you could make it out alive?

The thought of making it out of this situation never occured to me. I resigned myself to fate. I have had a very narrow escape from death in recent times; the Boko Haram bombing of Thisday office in Abuja being the most recent. The bomb went off within three minutes of my walking out of the premises, where I had gone to place an advert on behalf of the organising committee of the World Malaria Day celebration.

Moments later, obviously close to midnight, I heard footsteps and felt hands moving people out of the room. I was dragged out along with three others, with little or no challenge at all. From what I picked up from the gang, which I later discovered comprised three guys and two ladies, we were set for the slaughter slab. I was saying my last prayer when I heard that familiar voice again.

“No no no, guy. Don’t include that man we collected money from o. Leave him first,” the gang leader ordered and I was led back into our cage while another captive was taken in my place.

That action emboldened me. I have earned a chance to live; at least another 24 hours as it appeared the butchering job is done only at midnight. I refused to sleep that night as I sang praises and victory song throughout the night, pausing to pray in between. I prayed not just for my safety but for God to touch the heart of the gang and make them repent from this evil deed.

Though I had no access to a time piece, I did not in any way lose my sense of timing. When I heard footsteps coming my way the next day, I asked, to no-one in particular though, if it was 9am yet.

“Just a minute past,” one of the ladies announced, a tinge of surprise in her voice as she asked why I wanted to know.

“To pray,” I informed and immediately continued with my prayers, though silently. The woman returned a while later to remove the gag from our mouth and get me and the other lady left in the room to eat, without taking off the blind fold though. I ate silently, in a position I could never have imagined I would find myself; crouching, with my hands and feet tied up.

Breakfast done with, the woman, who had been joined by another member of the gang, debriefed me.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am the son of the Most High God” I replied full of hope. A renewed hope I picked up since being spared from execution last night.

“He he he! Ma gbe yen wa o.” meaning “Dont come up with that” The other gang member barked out. “Your name. What is your name?”

“Jerry Adesewo”

“Are you married?” the woman continued

“I am married with three daughters.”

“You still have parents?” the guy asked

“I have an 80 year-old father but my mother is late.”

“What is your mother’s name?”

“Felicia Anike Adesewo,” I responded, surprisingly feeling so relaxed as if I was in some important interview session, rather than before a group of ritual killers.

“And your wife?”

“Felicia Iyabo Adesewo,” I went on to add that my mother and my wife shared the same first name to address the doubt expressed by them. They went on to ask me several other questions, including where I banked and how much money I have in my account.

So how many of you were being held captive at this point?

Later that day, two more captives, a lady and a guy were brought in, to swell our number to five out of which they took three out later that night, after dinner. I was spared once again and by Saturday, I was the only one left in the room.

I seized the opportunity of surviving another night to intensify my prayers. I was sure, too, that a lot of people must have been praying for my safe return. When the woman brought my breakfast that morning, I refused to eat. I had decided to add fasting to my prayers.

Later that day, I heard the gang arguing as they disagreed about how much exactly was found on me. Their discussion later drifted into issues of their operations and I heard the other lady, not the one who has been bringing us food, lamenting about not being well paid for the kind of dangerous job they are doing for ‘Alhaji’.

“It’s better we talk to Oga o. I am sure Alhaji is cheating us. This work is dangerous now and we are supposed to be well paid,” The second lady submitted.

“Dont worry, I will handle that. Let’s just finish with this one first. If we are to do any other job, we negotiate with oga direct, or no deal,” the gang leader said.

They shared jokes and laughed heartily and then they returned to my issue. They discussed what to do with me in hush tones and moments later, I heard the door open and they walked in. They informed me they were going out for an operation and requested that I pray for their success since I appeared to be a prayer warrior.

Later that evening, when the others had gone out to Ibiza, to ‘harvest’ like the gang leader had mentioned to me. The door opened and someone entered. At first, I thought my time had finally come, so I started praying. I was all alone in the room now, so I didn’t expect any miracle. I prayed for forgiveness and prayed for my families. I prayed, particularly for my wife. For the strength to pull through the great task that lay ahead of her. The task of assuming, all alone, the responsibility of seeing our daughters through life.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” the woman’s voice penetrated my thought. “You have refused to eat all day.” She added as she relaxed the gag in my mouth.

“What is the point feeding me when you are going to kill me? I don’t need your food,” I dismissed her and resume my prayer.

“You know what, I wish I could help you but it’s risky. Very risky,” she said and made to replace the gag.

“If the Lord places it in your heart to help me escape from here, please do it. My family and friends will remember this favour and I am sure God will also reward you for it,” I said.

What was her reaction when you told her that?

I think I must have struck the right chord. She was silent for a while and she pulled the gag back. This time, not as firmly as it used to be. I declined when she offered to bring my food.

She went on to ask more questions, including again the amount of money found on me and why I had that much on me at the time I was abducted and I told her the amount (N840,000.000) and what the money was meant for. Before she left the room she advised me to keep praying.

Was that what you did?

Since it appeared I had nothing to lose, I decided to keep faith and pray to God for divine intervention.

That intervention was to come moments later. I was exempted yet again from that night’s execution. The gang returned to the hideout this time with four ladies and after less than an hour, the gang leader ordered for the ladies to be taken away, saying that it was not yet my time, that I should be allowed to enjoy the worth of the money they took from me.

And when the ladies were whimpering, he shouted, “Wetin? Make una no make any noise here o. Una never reach bus stop. By this time tomorrow, your body parts go don reach Edo.”

Not much happened afterwards but at about noon on Sunday, the woman who brings us food returned and tried again to make me eat but I refused. She enquired about the Church I attended and asked if I was a pastor.

“I am not a Pastor, I am only a Church worker.” I corrected.

“Son of the Most High God” she mimicked. She said if she had the chance to, she would help me out but she would need to convince one other person to help her take the risk.

And what did you say to that?

This time, I did not say a word. I just prayed inside me that God should manifest Himself. I am not living the best of life, but am not ready to die just yet. I have many plans. I have many hopes and aspirations. I became strong once again. Despite having starved for two whole days, I felt unusually strong, that had my hands and legs been free, I could jump up a hundred times without feeling any fatigue. As she walked out of the room, I found a reason to live once more. I believe in the potency of prayer. I am an Aladura and a proud one at that. So, I started praying and singing again.

What happened thereafter?

I must have fallen asleep, if so, for the first time since I was captured. The same way I found myself in that ritual cave, I woke up, or better still regained consciousness, to find myself in a deserted bush path. At first, I could not believe myself but when I lifted both my hands and legs freely and discovered I wasn’t gagged nor blindfolded. It dawned on me that I had been set free.

It took me more than five minutes to come to terms with this divine occurrence. I laboured to get on my feet. My body and head ached badly and my vision was partially impaired. I could not see clearly. Knowing what my experience in the last four nights had been, I would have loved to escape from that location immediately but was too weak to move. I had to sit back for what seemed like another ten minutes before I eventually managed to drag myself on. After what seemed like a ten minutes walk, or thereabout, I saw a man appear ahead of me, from a linked road and accosted him. He was reluctant to attend to me because of how tattered I looked. I asked him where I was and he told me I was in Yaba, a suburb of Abuja.

I explained my ordeal to him and begged him to help me. I dictated my wife’s number and he dialled. When my wife picked from the other end, he put the phone on loudspeaker and stretched it out to me to talk with her, not wanting to let go of the phone. I understood, so I carried on.

She said she was already at the bank to pay in the money and I asked her what money? She kept weeping and asking me to plead with my captors not to hurt me as she is about to pay in the money. I told her I had been freed and asked if she had N2000 to pay for a taxi that would bring me home.

“Just come, even if the taxi wants N10,000, we’ll pay,” she said.

The good Nigerian led me to the street where we flagged down an Abuja painted taxi, to take me to Kubwa. And so I returned home to my family after four nights of dining with death.

But what about this ransom demand and suspicions that you might have planned your own kidnap?

That was my story. To many I am sure it would sound unbelievable. More like a fairy tale. So, I was not surprised when I heard that some people are beginning to doubt the authenticity of this claim, for two reasons – my family’s appeal not to publicize it in the media and the fact that the N1,000,000 ransom demanded by the gang was asked to be paid into my account.

While I agree that these facts points to the possibility that I am involved in this ‘set up’ to defraud my family and friends, I feel obliged to clarify a few things even though the internal security department (ADIS) of the SSS who are already on the case, warned that I might be exposing myself and my family to danger if I choose to make this a media affair.

First, since the commencement of the Abuja parking policy in February, I have been a victim twice and have had to cough out N5000 each time, to retrieve my plate numbers. The most recent one being on Friday 15th of June, a week before my abduction. So, on that day, I decided that rather than take my car, I could just take commercial vehicle from my office to Federal Secretariat.

I also left my two main phones, taking only one with me, that is, my internet modem which I removed and inserted into a spare phone, just to use up the credits that had piled up there from the bonus credit from Glo since it’s not transferable. So, since Sunday of that week, I have used more of the modem line than all my other phones. That was the phone the killer gang ceased from me and was using to communicate with my wife. I have no reason to regret that decision though because, if I had taken my other phones along, these guys would have had access to more contacts and probably would have done more harm by calling up or texting my contacts without my knowledge.

Those who know me would definitely testify that I don’t live above my means. I am contented with what I have and whenever I am in need, I have trusted friends, families, brothers and ogas I can run to, and whatever challenges I have at that time would be met. Anayochukwu Onukhagha, Izuchukwu Okeke Job, Susan Okonkwo, Mercy Ezekiel, Queen Obaseki, Ms. Teresa Ameh, Chinyere Obi-Obasi, Dr, Seyi Adigun are some of such trusted friends. ken Ike-Okere, Vera Ihebuzor-Osokoya, Barrister Ahmed Maiwada, Dr. Jerry Agada, Dr, Wale Okediran, Alhaji Bello Musa Dankano, Mrs. Kemi Ajiboluwa-Adeniyi and Dr. Onukaba Ojo make up a list of other set of people that have never let me down whenever I run to them. There are others like Professor Tunde Adeniran, Alhaji Aliyu Modibbo Umar, Hajiya Hajo Sanni, Hon. Dr. Jerry Alagbaoso and of course Dr. Barclays Ayakoroma that I could afford to run to whenever such need arises. So, there is no reason why I would belittle myself and put my friends and family in such horrible mood only to demand for a paltry N1m.

If I must pull any such dirty string, like the popular Yoruba aphorism. If one must eat a frog, it must be one with egg. I woud have pulled a very big one. The ransom would not have been less than a N100m. Whether I am worth that much will be left for my families, friends and well-wishers to determine. And of course, I would not have been dumb enough as to ask for the ransom to be paid into my personal account. The truth is that, I was not even aware that this guys had demanded a ransom. They had collected my Diamond ATM card and forced me to divulge the pin and my account number. While I gave them the correct pin, I didn’t give them the correct account number and the reason is simple, there wasn’t much in that account at the time.