A master’s student in the United States and an indigene of Orlu Local Government Area, Imo State, Chimee Adioha tells GODFREY GEORGE how his father was whisked away by gunmen and later released after a huge ransom was paid
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It was reported that your father was kidnapped by some gunmen in Orlu, Imo State. How true is it?
I don’t like the term ‘gunmen’, but I need to start telling myself the truth. The reality is hitting now. So, yes, it could be gunmen, because they had guns, and they were all men. They kidnapped my father in our hometown, Orlu, Imo State, where I had lived most of my life as a child. He is a retired teacher.
How did this happen?
It was on July 20, 2022. The gunmen came to our house, looked for my father and found him. Actually, they said it was the second or third time they were looking for him and never found him until that day. They had said if they didn’t see him the third time, they would take my mother instead. But they saw my father, blindfolded him, then they wanted to drive him away in his Toyota, but suddenly, the car did not start, so they held him and put him into their own jeep and drove away.
My father said the drive lasted for about 30 minutes. That was his rough calculation. I don’t know how someone would be blindfolded, in a place that has had records of insecurity, driving for all that long and there were no checkpoints, no police, nothing; just free driving and getting to their destination so safely.
How did you learn of the kidnap?
It was afternoon in Nigeria, but morning in the US. I had just woken up and then went back to sleep before working on the computer. I felt a little tired. Then a cousin called me, asking about a message he had seen in our extended family’s WhatsApp group, that my father was kidnapped. I had not seen any WhatsApp messages and I was both confused and frustrated at that moment. I opened WhatsApp and then saw the messages and then it dawned on me that it was real. This was happening so close, although I was too far away from home. I mean, I had always heard about kidnapping, but I hadn’t really had it so close, and then this was happening in my hometown, a place that was supposed to be so peaceful. It’s so heartbreaking how Orlu has been in the news for insecurity since 2021. I was trembling and I had to leave my door open for days to be sure I was not the only one in my apartment. My housemate was very helpful. I had panic attacks and my anxiety disorder rose.
Why do you think your father was targeted?
That was the surprising thing to me too. My father is not wealthy. We grew up in a very simple house. My parents have lived in our hometown for many years. My father says he was tired of those lower middle class and upper middle class confused categorisation because Nigeria does not even afford you that economic and social label. “Just say you are comfortable,” he says. My father studied Educational Psychology in Italy in the 70s and worked as a teacher and a principal for many years in Anambra and Imo states before he voluntarily retired. We have a house, and a car, just like a human being should. These are not supposed to define wealth. They are essential human necessities, if you ask me. My father is a Catholic Knight of St. Mulumba, kept a lot of psychological books on his shelf, someone who talked less and spread love, had tea each morning of his life, drink decaffeinated coffee and loves rice.
When and how did the kidnappers reach out to your family to demand ransom?
They reached out on the second day. We were not too surprised because people told us they do not usually reach out on the first day. They used my father’s WhatsApp to send bundles of voice notes, asking that they also speak to my brother. They said they only wanted to be speaking to one person, and that was my brother. I listened to some of the voice notes; I couldn’t listen to everything because the man’s voice scared me. He spoke too fast, with a different Igbo dialect, with weak English, with a commanding tone, both commanding and kind. So, it was a whole voice note festival, my brother sent, they sent, my brother sent again, asking to hear my father’s voice and they sent back the next day with my father’s voice. It seemed the place had steady music. There was always local music in the background, the music you can’t really place who the singer was, but it appeared like it came from a very large speaker. When they said we should not involve the police or any sort of security network, there was music in the background; when they said the amount of money my brother was proposing was “too tiny, as tiny as an ant,” there was also music in the background. Music every time that I wondered how they slept, how my father slept with all that music, someone that always wants everywhere noise-proof to be able to sleep.
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