Special report: My encounter with Segun Jeremiah, boy who missed golden opportunity after major rescue

By Dayo Emmanuel

That Sunday morning in December 2018 I had prepared for church and was quite early. But then I was reluctant. I tried to shelve the idea of going to church for a reason I couldn’t fathom. My wife on the other hand was trying to get set and I had thought if she did not get ready in time we would shelve the idea of going to church. But she beat me to the game. She got ready. So we had to set out.

Though, it was a Sunday, I envisaged we could run into traffic. So, I stopped on the road to fill the fuel tank of our vehicle. I was right. We encountered some traffic along the Lagos-Abeokuta Express way at Ile Zik and Ajayi Farm areas. But the road was free afterwards.

Just when I was about to accelerate, a young boy with a bucket  of water tried to cross the highway. By divine providence he missed being crushed by a fast moving jeep. In his confusion he ran forth and back in the middle of the busy highway within a split second. I was on the service lane as this drama was unfolding before my eyes. In the confusion he found himself, he ran into my car.

His bucket shattered the windscreen of the car. He fell backwards and crashed on the hard surface of the road just after the ever busy Ikeja Along bus stop. It was as though a bag of cement had just been dropped on the tarred road judging by the sound that came from the incident.

I applied the break and rushed out with so much hysteria wondering what could have happened to the boy because I was sure I did not hit him. My wife was nonplussed. She too ran out of the car to where the boy was lying. The usual Lagos crowd was already gathering. She joined me to carry the boy straight into the car.

Another driver who saw the drama parked to congratulate us. He said “Oga I saw everything that happened from behind, you did not hit him, we thank God he wasn’t hit, he would have died.”

By this time the boy was already in the car. I took off with the shattered windscreen looking for a nearby hospital. In the midst of the confusion, we thought of Blue Cross Hospital at Ogba near Ikeja. So we took a detour and connected Ogba from Ikeja inside.

Upon inquisition, the young boy told us his name is Segun Jeremiah. He was looking drowsy at that time. “Have you taken breakfast?” We pressed on. “No” he replied. By this time he was getting a bit conscious. So we stopped along Oba Akran Avenue, Ikeja to buy him a plate of rice and some water.

At some point he would want to lie down but I insisted he mustn’t lie down. I was praying hard he would not die. He was looking tattered and probably had not taken a bathe in days. I began to wonder what background he had. We tried to scoop as much information as we could get while he could still talk but I noticed talking was like a burden to him.

We got the hospital eventually and narrated what had happened to the doctor on duty. He was admitted. Treatment started in earnest. Before long, he vomited everything he had taken earlier and the whole room was in a mess.

He was later placed on drip. We soon discovered he had no relative in Lagos. The situation was compounded. The hospital had taken my details, phone number, address, next of kin, driver’s license. The hospital went that length to save face so I won’t disappear afterwards. But I had no such plan.

But as God would have it, he became a bit stable and the doctor said he would be alright that by evening he could be discharged. But then, the doctor later informed he had minor brain injury which is making his speech distorted. The extent of the injury could not be determined. As we were battling with that, we found out he had no fixed address. So, if he was discharged there was nowhere for him to go.

We left with the car, the windscreen already broken and broken pieces of glass were flying into the car as we drove. Another worry was for the pieces not to injure our eyes and most importantly for the police not to latch on the incident. In Lagos we know what that could mean. There have been cases of hit and run drivers. So drivers of dented vehicles are often suspected.

We got home eventually only to repeat our visit to the hospital in the evening. By the time we came back in the evening, we discovered he was still vomiting. If he drank water, he would vomit. I sensed the affected part of the brain was responsible for that but the doctor didn’t mention anything of such.

He was later placed on drugs which calmed him down and made him sleep eventually. But even at that he was not fit to be discharged. The doctor’s earlier promise seemed impossible. We paid the hospital bill and left. We had to pray that he be discharged early enough because of the bill we had started to incure. On the other hand we were concerned about his health.

The fact that we could not establish contact with his people was however worrisome. A guy at the scene of the accident had told us they see him often around the rail line in Ikeja. Nobody knew his background.

My sister in-law, a retired nurse came down from Abeokuta the next morning when she heard about the incident. She was a very senior person at the Federal Medical Centre, Abeokuta where she recently retired so her experience was helpful.

She prescribed some drugs which we quickly bought. She instructed the nurses how to administer them and instantly the boy was responding well. Apparently he was being treated randomly as if he had a common ailment. But there was more problem which my sister in-law discovered. Thank God she sacrificed to come around. Sometimes nurses in her category are far better than some modern day doctors. This is debatable though but her coming saved the day.

On the day the young man was discharged from the hospital I took him away. I bought him medicated soap to have a good bathe. I had brought some clothes for him from home, toiletries and few things he could need. He had some money in his pocket as well which were proceeds from his menial jobs. He was saving some money to be able to attend the 2018 congress of the RCCG at the Redemption camp. He often lamented how the accident deprived him of the event.

By now, he was able to talk a little bit better. So I engaged him to hear his story. It became apparent Segun was a street boy. He escaped from a difficult uncle he lived with to Lagos to find a life. He had just spent barely a month in Lagos as at the time of the accident.

A product of a broken home, his parents separated and distributed her three children among relatives. He is the first born. He had lived with his mother’s brother, a carpenter who according to him maltreated him. He showed several wounds he had sustained from several beatings. He dropped out after two years in secondary school as his uncle refused to pay his fees. He was used on the farm and he learnt carpentry from his uncle. That was the story he told us.

He was 18 at the time he escaped to Lagos in November 2018. According to his story, he left his Olorunda village somewhere around Ilaro in Ogun State with about N300 which he exhausted on getting to Sango Ota. He had to keep walking until he arrived Iyana Ipaja, about 19 kilometres from Sango.

Getting to Iyana Ipaja in the night, he was exhausted and had to sleep under a shed. Mosquitoes had a good feast and by morning he continued his journey to nowhere. His destination was the heart of Lagos. He kept asking per time if he had got to Lagos.

Eventually he got to Ikeja along Bus Stop and there he felt comfortable. He met other boys of his age group who had similar story. He started living there and was adapting fast. He was offered cigarette severally but he always declined, telling them he is a Jesus boy and he does not smoke. Segun was a drummer boy in his church back in the village.

Together with other boys he slept in the open at the Ikeja Along bus stop. They work together to do menial jobs carrying loads for commuters who paid them paltry sums.

Earlier at the hospital he gave a brief rundown of how the accident happened. He had washed all his things that morning in preparation for church. He discovered a Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG) parish he had fellowshipped with the previous Sunday and decided to attend the service again that day. He had washed all his clothes and the last trip of the water he went to fetch at the other side of the road was for his bathe so he could be in church. That was the last thing he remembered before he found himself on the tarred road lying almost lifeless.

So that Tuesday after he was discharged our next concern was his rehabilitation and how to reunite him with his family. But he vowed never to return home because of the maltreatment he suffered. No amount of pleading was enough. His speech was still altered. We put several calls through to rehabilitation homes but none wanted to take him in because of the circumstances that led to his leaving home. Then, his age. He was considered too old for the centres we got.

Later we heard about a facility run by the RCCG in Loburo village close to the Redemption Camp along Lagos-Ibadan express way. Mr. Tunde Abatan, the Editor of New Dawn, an online news platform and a minister with the RCCG supplied the useful information. Then I summoned the courage to take him to the facility when all the calls to the phone numbers on the centre’s website didn’t go through, typical of such websites.

We left for Ogun State to locate Loburo village. On getting to Mowe, he requested to drink koko, a local corn meal made into pap. I was happy he requested to eat. I carried his drugs along since I had to be administering at intervals.

After gulping a bowl of koko, he requested for another bowl, I was happy. After the second bowl, I administered his drugs. While I waited for him to settle down before we continued the journey, he threw up right into my face. His vomit was all over my body. I bought water to clean up. The pap sellers were angry as if it was deliberate. I pleaded with them informing them the boy was sick.

Some good Samaritans helped to cover the mess with sand. The water seller was nice. She supplied us water for free to wash our bodies. The koko sellers complained the mess would disturb business. There were other customers at the make shift restaurant in the open space. They took up the koko sellers. There was a wild drama. One of them said who no dey sick? Even God dey sick and his other friends took him up for blaspheming. They were all social miscreants popularly called area boys.

After cleaning up, we left them in the midst of a hot argument over Segun’s matter. Soon we got to Loburo. It is a camp where boys and girls are rehabilitated. It was school time and they were all going to their schools. I asked to see the head of the place. Later a pastor drove in. I introduced myself and my mission. He introduced himself as Pastor Ogedengbe. He wasn’t friendly but luckily he gave me audience perhaps because I introduced myself as a journalist and he requested to see my identity card which was handy.

He said he had experienced a lot of such stories. He even felt Segun was pretending when he heard his name is Segun Jeremiah. He said some of those bad boys behave that way and fake things. I was controlling myself. His attitude didn’t go down well with me. But I had to be calm as I needed help at that moment

Eventually, Pastor Ogedengbe listened to my story; he believed me and loosened up. He narrated his experience on the job and how he had embarked on similar rescue operations in the past. He said the facility at the centre was overstretched with over 50 boys and that people always think there is enough funding for the facility. He said they still trust God and canvass for funding from well-meaning Nigerians.

He however advised I get a police report, a letter of introduction from any RCCG parish pastor and a doctor’s report of fitness for Segun. He said with these documents he would try to see how he could help but I should know there was no space. I felt it was a way of telling me to look elsewhere because the conditions were just too stringent.

Pastor Ogedengbe was kind enough to drop us off at the nearest bus stop and left to think on the next line of action. I called my elder brother, Pastor Tokunbo Emmanuel and relayed the situation. He asked if I had told Dr. Omonaiye. I said no, he encouraged me to talk to him.

Dr. Omonaiye is a family friend and a brother, one of the best people anyone could have as friend. He is a very selfless and practical person I always learn from. I told him about the situation. He did not hesitate. He said I should bring the boy. That was the first miracle. Not that I didn’t think of his God’s Goal Hospital when the accident happened; but the location of his hospital is very far away from the scene of the accident.

I had thought what if I embarked on the journey when the accident occurred and Segun didn’t make it to the hospital? Of course the traffic at Iyana Iba is killing on its own. That was why I found the nearest hospital at least for first aid.

The journey from Mowe to Ojo where the hospital is located was very hectic since I was not driving. We moved from one bus to another. I could not hire a taxi. I had exhausted all I had on me at the Blue Cross Hospital.

We travelled through the congested road paths. We got to Ojo and immediately another round of treatment started even before we bought the hospital card. Dr. Omonaiye made fresh discoveries and found that a portion of his head was soft. The doctor also discovered the part of the brain affected was responsible for his usual vomiting. If he drank water chances were high he would vomit. Unlike Blue Cross Hospital, Dr. Omonaiye also discovered Segun had malaria parasites in his blood enough to cause more terrible damage, so that must be treated as well.

He recommended a test which he said would cost N50, 000. This is a boy without nobody in Lagos. But Dr. Omonaiye assured us Segun would be okay.

After some documentations, I had to leave. It was a long day for me but I thanked God Segun was in good hands. I left but a new challenge emerged.

Segun didn’t know how to eat any reasonable food. He was so strange. He does not like bread, the commonest of foods. Most staple food people eat in this part of the country seemed to be strange to him. Later we discovered he had a deprived childhood. He was not trained on normal food. His craving was garri and pap. After lecturing him the drugs won’t work on him without good food in his stomach, he requested for garri. The nurses were happy and they went for wraps of eba and nice soup.

Getting the food to Segun, they were wrong! He meant garri and not eba (the solid type). He just wanted to pour the garri or cassava flakes in water and drink even without sugar. That was his food on a good day where he grew. He said once he had garri or koko, he would be fine. I asked him if they eat egg or meat while he was home. He said his uncle doesn’t serve him meat except when their trap caught rodents on the farm. That gave me an idea of the background he likely came from.

As days rolled into weeks, Segun was responding to treatment. He finally recovered and his speech was restored. I must appreciate Dr. Omonaiye, his wife and nurses at God’s Goal hospital. Segun was already used to the environment and fully adapted into the hospital family, he helped in simple errands and he was just good.

All efforts to locate his people were not successful. Friends began to put pressure on me to get a police report in case there was a problem about him in near future. Some even said he may have been involved in a crime and I must inform the police in case he was discovered. I became worried. So I went to the nearest police station to where the accident happened.

Luckily Dr. Omonaiye knew a policeman in the station and he gave me a note to the officer. On getting there, he welcomed me. He was a friendly man. He handed me over to his bosses who heard my story. They were interested and before long, two other senior female police officers were invited. Unanimously they told me I had no need of any police report. They said I was only being a Good Samaritan. They wondered if there were still Nigerians like myself who did not escape from the scene or who did not pick and dump him somewhere to die but still spent so much to save and rehabilitate him.

I left the station with mixed feelings. But I was happy I didn’t need to write any statement that may be exhumed to extort money from me in the future.

Before I went to the police station, I had an appointment to interview someone in Lekki. I was in company of another pastor friend, Pastor Kayode Akinrimisi. He is another selfless friend and brother who always prefers others to himself.

While we waited for the interview, I had to put a call through to the policeman Dr. Omonaiye had recommended earlier. We discussed and after the conversation, I had to tell Pastor Akinrimisi what I had been going through in the past weeks about the accident.

The major challenge was where to keep the boy so he doesn’t return to his homeless friends at the rail line where he could easily join bad gang; since he had refused to return to his uncle.

Pastor Kayode offered to house and mentor Segun. It was an answered prayer and I had to arrange to pick him from the hospital.

By then, he had spent about 43 days with Dr. Omonaiye. The doctor, his family and the nurses were emotional about his leaving because he had become a member of the hospital family; even other patients had accepted and loved him, but we had to move.

Getting to Pastor Akinrimisi’s place was another journey. We eventually got there about 10:30pm that day. His family had retired to bed but he kept dinner for Segun thinking he must be hungry by the time he got to his house. He was right.

That was how Segun started another life at Ojodu area of Lagos. After much interviews Segun told us he was interested in mechanic and carpentry. He was enrolled at a nearby mechanic workshop and he began apprenticeship. After some months, he changed his mind and pleaded to continue as a carpenter since he had learnt carpentry in the village.

Again, Pastor Akinrimisi enrolled him at the carpentry workshop nearby. We contributed to get him some tools and he was said to be fine at the workshop.

One day, Segun was in the streets and walked into someone from his village! It was like seeing a ghost because there was a rumour in the village that his uncle had used him for money ritual.

Some of the villagers believed this falsehood because almost immediately Segun went missing, the uncle’s fortune turned the right side up. He had built a house and bought himself a car. So many had thought the source of his ‘sudden wealth’ was diabolical.

The stranger who had encountered Segun took the news to the village and the entire village went agog. But some were still skeptical. This gave the uncle the courage to come with the stranger to Lagos to see him for confirmation.

To confirm the story, a delegation set out from the village to find Segun in Lagos. He was found around the workshop and he led them to where he stayed. They met Pastor Akinrimisi and appreciated him. He gave them my phone number and the uncle spoke with me.

I told him Segun is not lost and he is no longer a child at 18 when he was involved in the accident. I reminded him he is now 19. I told him at 19, I was already fending for myself in Lagos so Segun is no longer a baby but he should thank God he was in safe hands and being monitored.

I was seethed with anger throughout the phone conversation. He appreciated my intervention and gave up after I told him the boy is an adult and should be allowed to decide what he wanted in life.

The uncle later told Pastor Akinrimisi how disobedient Segun had been before he ran to Lagos. I wished I had seen him face to face, with a background of how he had treated the boy I would have grilled him. He requested to return to the village with him just to prove a point that he didn’t use him for money ritual like many had assumed.

Few days later Segun’s mother who had left him many years ago for another marriage after leavening his father, resurfaced in Lagos with him. She pleaded with his guardian to help take him and monitor him. Her wish was accepted and Segun continued his apprenticeship.

But after few weeks again, the guardian started contemplating returning Segun after his training since his people already knew his whereabouts.

Later Segun according to his guardian began to grow wings. He was often reported of not eating at home. He had started taking jobs and making money. Occasionally I had to talk to him to be patient and complete his apprenticeship.

Day in day out it was one story or the other. His background had started telling on him. He would always look for menial jobs to do and make fast money instead of reporting at the workshop. His host once asked what he needed the money for; he said he wanted to return to the village to buy a piece of land. He had so many ‘big’ and unsustainable dreams instead of calming down to build solid foundation for the future.

At some point his guardian was fed up with his recalcitrant behaviour and had to return him to the village. In all, he spent about 12 eventful months of his life under my purview starting from December 4, 2018 to December 2019.

Sometime in the future, Segun Jeremiah would look back to thank God for sparing his life and giving him an opportunity which he botched or so it seemed.