Let me tell you something about Lagos: if your spirit ever whispers, “Omo, something no pure,” LISTEN. Because that’s the exact warning my ancestors tried to send me that night, but did I listen? No.

And that’s how I almost got shipped to an unknown location like a Jumia package.

Crackko Meme

It was late—around 10:30 p.m. I was heading home after linking up with my guys. Lagos at night? Pure chaos. Car horns. Street hawkers screaming. Agberos fighting for no reason. Just vibes and survival.

I had barely stepped onto my street when a Danfo bus pulled up beside me. Two men in black stopped me.

“Officer,” one of them said. “We need to search you.”

Instantly, my Naija survival mode activated. Something wasn’t right. First of all, real Nigerian policemen don’t talk like this. They either insult you first or call you ‘Chairman’ before moving mad. And second? Their uniforms weren’t uniformaling.

But before I could react, one of them grabbed my arm.

“Enter the bus.”

Now, listen carefully. When a Nigerian man with a gun tells you to enter, you enter. Arguing is for people who still have time. Me? I entered.

Welcome to My Kidnap

Money Heist meme

Inside the bus, I was the only passenger. That’s when my ancestors screamed: “Omo, na today?” The driver hit the accelerator, and just like that, I was gone.

They started asking questions: Where are you coming from? Who do you work for? Who is your father? My guy, am I James Bond? What is all this interrogation?

The worst part? They collected my phone. My Tecno Spark 2. That phone had survived everything—rain, falls, heartbreak—only for it to get kidnapped with me.

One of them searched my pockets. No wallet, just small cash. The way he hissed? Like I personally wasted his time. That’s when I knew these guys were not police—just hungry criminals looking for a quick cashout.

The Great Escape Plan

At this point, I had three choices:

  1. Jump out of the moving bus. Not ideal because I still love my bones.
  2. Shout for help. In Lagos? Nobody sends you unless you say “THIEF!”
  3. Wait for my village people to press ‘Game Over.’

Then I remembered something my street uncle once said: “If kidnappers grab you, confuse them.”

So I switched it up.

I started shouting in fake tongues.

“SHABARAKATAYAKANDELEROH!”

The way the driver turned? Even he wasn’t ready. I started vibrating like I was catching the Holy Spirit. My guy at the front shouted, “What’s happening?!” I yelled, “My ancestors are here! If you don’t stop this bus, your firstborn will disappear!”

Omo, FEAR gripped them.

The driver slowed down. Bad decision for them, great decision for me. Because the second the bus dropped speed, I jumped out.

I landed like a Nollywood stuntman, rolled, got up, and RAN.

My Guardian Angel on Okada

I ran into a small street and hid behind a shop. That’s when I saw him—my savior in helmet and black shades. A random Okada man, just vibing.

I didn’t ask questions. I hopped on and screamed, “MOVE!”

My guy didn’t argue. Omo, the way this man zoomed off? Fast and Furious 12.

We left those fake policemen in Lagos traffic, confused and jobless.

By the time I got home, I kissed the ground like I just came back from exile.

Moral of the Story?

  1. If a Nigerian policeman stops you and says “Enter bus,” start speaking in tongues.
  2. If your spirit ever warns you, LISTEN.
  3. Lagos is not for the weak—always keep emergency Okada money.

Hey Luv, Wait. Feel More Crackko Vibe:

If you love thrilling near-disaster stories, check out Confessions & Close Calls.

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