Yes, accidents do happen everywhere: Yesterday, aboard the train bound for Kaduna from Abuja, I witnessed something that will stay with me always. The Accident! Wasn’t just a jarring physical upheaval—it became a moment of raw, human truth.
In the immediate aftermath, it was the Nigerian Army who truly showed up. They were there instantly – I watched as they shuttled the injured in their vehicles, moving victims from the station (ashams station with barely road access).
These men were not simply obeying orders—they were offering compassion. Their presence a source of comfort. They stood with us for hours, right at the heart of danger, offering more than rescue: they offered solace. Because of them, I will forever regard the Nigerian Army with renewed respect and gratitude.
In the midst of all that chaos to my utter shock!!! A stark contrast emerged. I saw the NEMA (Nigerian Emergency Management Agency) team arrive—by helicopter, at a time when the worst had passed. I saw police personnel, in their entourage. But not one of them spared a glance at us as they walked passed us to the accident site. There were no comforting words, no reassurance, no shared humanity. I kept thinking in my mind when I saw the news, felt like a cruel betrayal—gilded pictures of rescue without rescue, of presence without support.
Where were they at the time we needed them? The site of the accidebt was between kubwa and Gere! Very close to abuja!!! Their absence in those crucial moments was more extraordinary than their presence at all.
We were stranded, wounded, terrified. None of them turned back to us to ask: “Are you alright?” or “How can we help?” We were forgotten, even as their images were broadcast for show.
I left the site after three anxious hours—my family searching for me, and saw a NEMA ambulance on the road only after the army had done the work of rescue.
I asked myself: Is this how our system is meant to work?
This shouldn’t read as bitterness—it’s raw, aching longing. Longing for a Nigeria where institutional presence equals real care. Crafting our public image isn’t enough if it’s not backed by substance. And so here is my truth: I saw who truly matters in those moments of crisis. I know now, with unwavering clarity, whose faces represent security and solidarity—and whose represent optics.
I am profoundly grateful for each soldier who stood their ground and did all they did at the background while others took the credit. You know yourselves! To this country! let’s honor action over image. Let compassion—not entrenchment—define our response to disaster. Because at that moment, the difference between life and despair was not in uniforms or headlines—it was in hearts that chose to help!
Maryam Bello Barkindo posted the above on her Facebook page.
