Ola was a co-tenant in YBNL in 2013, and we enjoyed a cordial relationship (at least so I thought). He was at the state polytechnic, while I was a medical student at a different school and campus. Yet, we vibe freely, though I maintained some distance as one who should not lose guard. Two years later, school is what it is—a temporary abode. We all parted eventually. Ola graduated from his school and traveled back to Lagos (about 5 hours by road), where his family was probably based, while I had a year to go.
By 2015, most of the first batch of occupants had relocated from the YBNL villa, and for me, I got another hostel, which admitted only medical students, as the landlord was not comfortable with the frequent drama or fights that often emanated from the poly students. My new hostel was peaceful and barely had any reason for noise. A security guard was employed to keep watch over the hostel.
It was not unusual to come across familiar faces, especially since my former hostel was a stone's throw away. Here, I came across Bola (actual name withheld), who was Ola's ex-girlfriend (according to what she told me), along the streets of my new hostel. Bola usually came around to YBNL, but we hardly talked to each other. I was not the type to poke a nose into people's or neighbors's relationships.
Bola and I got talking soon after we met. She was also a student at the polytechnic. Her apartment was near my new hostel, and she came around occasionally to visit, mostly to get some foodstuffs she lacked or to charge her electric gadgets since I had a generator I used whenever the power supply was out for a pretty long time. We maintained the relationship as cordial as possible, without strings attached.
Barely three months later, Ola got into town, and before I could say Jack! He came to my new hostel with another guy in his age bracket of thirty while the security man was away. I wanted to jump at him and shake him since we had not seen for a while, but my excitement was prematurely terminated.
"Leave my girlfriend alone." Ola threatened with rage in his eyes.
I was confused at that instance, unsure if it was Bola, the presumed ex he referred to, or another lady.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Who?" I asked innocently.
"You're still asking nonsense questions." The other guy that followed Ola said and raised his hand to hit me, but I shifted back almost immediately. Then, I realized both Ola and his friend had come for a fight. I picked up my phone to call my brother, but it was whisked away from my hand and, luckily, thrown on a surface that did not cause any cracks in it. Fighting or arguing would be futile, and I did what was best and took a flight. I kept my calm while both continued their threats, and the other guy stated he would kill me if I continued seeing Bola. At least I knew what the issue was, and fighting would only make me a sore loser, if not my life.
When they were done with their threats, I picked up my phone and called my older brother, who was in the military, though he was out of town. After narrating the ordeal to him, he linked me up with the superior officer of the state criminal investigation department at the police headquarters, and the following morning, I presented myself to the officer. The officer asked me to represent myself later in the day when his junior officers would be around. This I did, and two officers followed me to my hostel area. First, Bola was picked up, and she pointed to us where she stayed. He was equally picked up by the police, and all of us (except his friend, who threatened me) went back to the police station.
Ola was immediately put into a cell pending when the superior officer felt it was convenient to interrogate him. At about 5 p.m., after Ola had spent 30 minutes in the cell, he was presented on his knees before the superior officer. I was asked to narrate all I knew before the team, and this I did without holding back anything. Lucky for me also, Bola confessed to how helpful I was regarding her feeding and charging of electrical gadgets, including sparing some cash when the need arose. She was asked if there was any intimacy or romantic relationship between us, and she denied it immediately (I was glad in my heart she said the truth).
"I want to call my sister; she's a lawyer." Ola interrupted the superior officer's interrogation rudely. I was surprised at his boldness. The superior officer continued interrogating Bola, who confessed to having been hit by Ola during the short period he had come into town. Our attention was focused on Bola and the officer; little did I know that the superior officer had signaled to one of his junior officers to serve Ola with some punches and slaps. Then, I knew what people said about the Nigerian police and their harsh and brutal treatment of suspects. Ola had his senses realigned and regretted mentioning he had a lawyer to call. A document was brought out about charges against offenders who beat women, as he had done to Bola. Apparently, Ola bit more than he could chew.
Ola made voluntary and mandated apologies to me, especially. He was further asked to present at the police station every morning by 9 a.m. for the whole week after writing an undertaking to not harm or be near me. I was visited by former neighbors of YBNL that evening of Ola's arrest, and they kept pleading that I should withdraw, which I told them I would not oblige since my life had been threatened.
Ola was eventually freed after he presented severally at the police station, and shortly after, I heard he returned to Lagos, where he came from. I stopped seeing Bola in the neighborhood, even though I spent only two years in the area after that incident. Since then, I have not heard or seen Ola or Bola.