Mistaken Identity

Mistaken Identity

Swinging a black disposable nylon bag.

She stepped out of the air conditioned ambience of a busy banking hall.

At the popular computer village… Ikeja.

West Africa’s biggest IT hub.

Where she’d gone to withdraw cash.

With which she meant to replace her damaged iPhone 7 screen that had got smashed when she accidentally sat on it.

Intent on finishing off in time to escape the rush hour traffic that was the new norm in the commercial port city Lagos.

No thanks to the simultaneous construction of road infrastructures embarked upon by the state government.

That she heard someone yelling.

“Stop her… stop that thief”


She walked on but immediately slowed down.

The crowd of pedestrians had also slowed down.

They were staring at… and some had already started edging towards her.

Turning around.

In the direction of the voice that had gone up a notch.

“Thief… Thief… my money… stop that girl”

The voice’s owner

An obese.

Middle aged man.

Clearly out of breath but waddling as fast as he could in her direction.

Just then.

A hand grabbed her dress from behind.

Another grabbed her left wrist in a vise like grip.

“Yeye tif today hand don touch you.. ole”

Other voices followed in quick succession.

“Wetin e tif na money?”

“GOD Don catch am today”

“Day don brake am… onye oshi”

“I’m not a thief” she blurted out in a frightened voice.

“Sharrap” came a husky voice from within the hostile mob.

It belonged to her accuser… the obese man.


Clearly out of breath.

He snatched the black disposable bag she held in her hands.

“You tif my Oga #40,000… e nor go better for you”

As she tried to refute the accusation he slapped her across the cheek.

Tore off her dress.

Then pushed her back in a lightening left handed move while still clutching to the black disposable nylon bag he’d snatched from her.

Somewhat placated he reached inside the bag.

What he pulled out wasn’t money.

Mouth agape.

The hitherto aggressive man’s fury turned to confusion as he mouthed.


The crowd looked from stunned accuser to bleeding accused and back again.

Then as one it moved.

Towards the…

Daniel Ibanga©

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