THE-SLAP:-A-Lesson-in-Courage,-Humility,-and-the-Proper-Use-of-Power

THE SLAP: A Lesson in Courage, Humility, and the Proper Use of Power

Papa PC/ Wisdom TideDecember 8th ,2025

Some slaps sting for a moment.

Some slaps bruise your pride.

But a few slaps — unexpected, humiliating, unforgettable — have the power to shape your future and teach you the true meaning of resilience.

My own encounter with that kind of slap began long before adulthood.

The First Slap — Mary Knoll College, Ogoja

As a Form 3 student in Mary Knoll College, Ogoja — a school known for its strict discipline — life felt like a quasi-military training camp. Soldiers guarded the gates. The Man O’ War team drilled us like junior cadets. We trained in Shere Hills, Lagos Sea School, and even the thickly forested Aluu Jungle School.

In those days, I thought I was tough.

But nothing prepared me for a slap that would revisit my life thirteen years later.

The Second Slap — The One That Changed Everything

Years later, as National President of the National Association of Ogoja Students, I led a delegation to follow up on our approved bursaries. With a formal letter from the Military Administrator, HE Ibrahim Kefas, and the endorsement of the SSG and Commissioner for Education, our mission was simple:

collect what was legitimately ours.

We arrived at the Ogoja LGA Council, where the new Caretaker Chairman, Chief Linus Emonshe Okom, sat flanked by respected colleagues — Barr. Sunny Odey, Hon. Aleji Nkor, Hon. Joe Okem, and Sir Philip Ibol.

But influence does not always translate to integrity.

Without explanation, our request was dismissed.

We were ordered to leave.

Not long after, a police truck screeched into the compound — sirens wailing, dust rising. Out stepped two officers.

One was calm, dignified, and professional — ASP John Eze.

The other… a different story entirely — Inspector Anthony Joseph:

unkempt uniform, angry eyes, the type of officer whose temper needed only a spark.

When I attempted to explain why we were there, his irritation grew. Maybe it was my neatly ironed white shirt. Maybe it was my size. Maybe it was the confidence in my voice.

Then came the moment that would follow me for years:

Gboza!

A thunderous slap.

Before the shock settled, another landed.

Then fists.

Then boots.

Not even my paramilitary training from school could have prepared me for the brutality.

Like the civil rights leaders I had learned about — especially Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. — I chose not to retaliate. Silence became my shield. I was pushed into a police truck and detained.

When Students Rise

News spread quickly.

The Ogoja students mobilized like a tidal wave under the leadership of the fearless Hon. James “Sir Jack” Odey.

They stormed the police station chanting aluta songs, pounding the gates, refusing to be intimidated. The entire community felt the tension.

Three hours later, I was released — only after signing a humiliating note promising to “be of good behavior.”

But we refused to be silenced.

That same night, we returned to the council.

By 8:30 p.m., our ₦500 bursaries were released.

I used mine to buy bananas and groundnuts which I shared with all the students who stood by me.

Yet, deep inside, I remained wounded — not just physically, but in spirit.

The Third Slap — and a Promise

Two days later, while walking with my close friend, Epas, on Mission Road, I saw the same Inspector. The moment he recognized me, he marched toward us with that same reckless confidence.

Gboza!

Another slap.

“Go and tell your Governor I slapped you!” he shouted.

I looked at him calmly and said,

“The devil is a liar. I will be back.”

Destiny Turns

Life moved on.

I graduated.

Went for NYSC in Anambra.

Returned home and entered politics.

I contested for governor, stepped down my structure for Donald Duke, and our efforts contributed to victory. Eventually, I became Chief of Staff to the Deputy Governor of Cross River State.

Years later, that promise I made quietly on Mission Road returned to me.

One day, my friend Epas called urgently:

“He has done it again.”

“Who?”

“The same Inspector. He robbed my friend John Obi. Forced him at gunpoint to write a ₦100,000 cheque.”

This time, I had the authority — and the responsibility — to act.

We informed the Commissioner of Police, CP Yar’Adua.

A team was assembled under SP Kawasaki Arikpo.

We set a trap at All States Bank, Mary Slessor Road.

When the Inspector came to cash the cheque, the bank staff stalled him. The moment he saw SP Kawasaki, he knew it was over. The bravado evaporated. He surrendered instantly.

He was taken into my official car.

I turned to him and asked:

“Do you remember me? I told you… I will be back.”

He was tried, found guilty, and dismissed from the Force.

THE LESSONS — FOR NIGERIA, FOR YOU, FOR US ALL

This story is bigger than me.

Bigger than the slap.

Bigger than the Inspector.

It is a warning — and an encouragement.

1. Power is not a license to abuse others.

A uniform should protect, not intimidate.

Some officers forget that their authority exists to uphold justice, not crush dignity.

2. Every citizen must insist on the rule of law.

Injustice grows where silence reigns.

Our collective voice is the true guardian of democracy.

3. Do not mistreat people.

Life is unpredictable.

Today’s student may be tomorrow’s leader.

Today’s powerless may hold influence tomorrow.

4. Do not give up on your dreams — no matter the slap life gives you.

Some humiliations are stepping stones.

Some setbacks are preparations.

Some slaps are destiny’s way of waking you up.

5. Justice may delay, but it does not disappear.

What you do to others has a way of returning.

IN THE END

I hold no hatred toward the Inspector.

Only gratitude — for the strength his actions forced me to develop, for the opportunities that shaped my destiny, and for the reminder that:

No condition is permanent.

No oppression lasts forever.

And no slap should ever be used to silence the innocent.

If this story inspires you, let it inspire you to stand tall, keep pushing, and never surrender your dreams — no matter what life throws at you.

— Papa DC #thefailurethatrefusedtofail writing from Atibulum,Gakem Bekwarra LGA where the first gunshot was fired and abandoned 

A friend of the people, and a friend of the police—

when the police serve justice.