Journalists, Anambra election and police dogs
Update!
We approached him.
“Wetin be the name of your media organization?” he barked, running a stubby finger down a list of names on a crumpled paper.
“I’m from Business Day,” one reporter said.
“It is not in this list. You can go home now. Go back!” He barked again.
Within a few minutes, a horde of ‘unwanted’ reporters had gathered outside the gate.
At first we raged at the police officers, then we pleaded, then we raged again.
After what seemed like an eternity and still no succour in sight, the Business Day fellow was the first to react.
He seemed to be the worst hit.
He approached the officers manning the gate, in a business-like manner, a bundle of paper tucked neatly under his armpit.
“Officer, excuse me please,” he adjusted his spectacles and moved the bundle underneath his armpit from the left one to the right one.
“You see, I came all the way from Lagos just because of this election. What do you want me to tell my editor?”
The officer he was addressing merely stared at him, a bored expression inscribed all over his face.
“Officer, it’s like you don’t understand what I’m saying.”
He unbundled the package he had been clutching under his armpit, produced the day’s edition of Business Day, and straightened it before the officer.
“Now look at this,” he pointed to the headline, and then allowed his finger to trail towards the by-line. “Look at this name, it is my name you are seeing there. Yes. Now take a look at this…”
He whipped out his staff ID card and poked a finger under his photo.
“Look at this name. Is it not the same with the one here?”
He produced the paper again and pointed.
“Officer, I reported this election very well. That’s why it was on the front page because it was the major story. Look at the story very well…”
The officer leapt out of his chair.
“Hey, just respect yourself and move away from here. I say take your things and go!”
And then out of nowhere emerged the police dogs – huge, ferocious, blood thirsty beasts – that seemed enraged for being kept on a leash.
We were no longer interested in covering the final collation.
The Business Day reporter quickly gathered his journalistic tools and fled, with the rest of us on his heels.
(PREMIUM TIMES is officially protesting the treatment of its reporter by INEC and security officials at the Anambra election).
We approached him.
“Wetin be the name of your media organization?” he barked, running a stubby finger down a list of names on a crumpled paper.
“I’m from Business Day,” one reporter said.
“It is not in this list. You can go home now. Go back!” He barked again.
Within a few minutes, a horde of ‘unwanted’ reporters had gathered outside the gate.
At first we raged at the police officers, then we pleaded, then we raged again.
After what seemed like an eternity and still no succour in sight, the Business Day fellow was the first to react.
He seemed to be the worst hit.
He approached the officers manning the gate, in a business-like manner, a bundle of paper tucked neatly under his armpit.
“Officer, excuse me please,” he adjusted his spectacles and moved the bundle underneath his armpit from the left one to the right one.
“You see, I came all the way from Lagos just because of this election. What do you want me to tell my editor?”
The officer he was addressing merely stared at him, a bored expression inscribed all over his face.
“Officer, it’s like you don’t understand what I’m saying.”
He unbundled the package he had been clutching under his armpit, produced the day’s edition of Business Day, and straightened it before the officer.
“Now look at this,” he pointed to the headline, and then allowed his finger to trail towards the by-line. “Look at this name, it is my name you are seeing there. Yes. Now take a look at this…”
He whipped out his staff ID card and poked a finger under his photo.
“Look at this name. Is it not the same with the one here?”
He produced the paper again and pointed.
“Officer, I reported this election very well. That’s why it was on the front page because it was the major story. Look at the story very well…”
The officer leapt out of his chair.
“Hey, just respect yourself and move away from here. I say take your things and go!”
And then out of nowhere emerged the police dogs – huge, ferocious, blood thirsty beasts – that seemed enraged for being kept on a leash.
We were no longer interested in covering the final collation.
The Business Day reporter quickly gathered his journalistic tools and fled, with the rest of us on his heels.
(PREMIUM TIMES is officially protesting the treatment of its reporter by INEC and security officials at the Anambra election).
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