Egregious abuse of human rights
Published: 2024-01-21 18:27:35

My name is Nnamani Ugochukwu Frederick. 

I currently stay at number 41 trinity Street, Edu agbara, and ogun state, Nigeria and this is my story. 

On 12 of January 2023, I embarked on a three months journey and it led me Morocco. What precipitated such action you might ask? Well, I discovered that some people invaded my life and privacy and mounted hidden cameras all over my apartment. I lived in a two bedroom apartment in Festac area of Lagos. My daily life was turned into a reality TV show without my knowledge, I was humiliated, you literally heard them whisper and make fun of me whenever I pass by. I went to the police several times and I was told there was nothing they could do since there was no evidence. I was ridiculed and laughed at. The noise from outside became louder with each passing day, I became a shadow of myself. I hired a lawyer, who wrote petition to the police to launch an investigation. The police came to the apartment looked around and we drove back to the station. At the end of the day, they advised me to collect the money I paid when I moved in and get a new apartment but that the best thing for me was to leave the country and start a new life elsewhere. It was the third semester of my diploma program in backend engineering with Alt_School Africa, I rented a new apartment because I wanted to finish the diploma program but life was never the same so I made a decision. My journey began in Benin Republic, from Cotonou, I took a bus to Mali through Togo. From the vibrant streets of Bamako, I took a boat to the ancient city of Timbuktu. My journey then led me to Algeria. From the border town of Bordj to the city of Ghardaia. From Ghardaia to Algiers,  From Algiers I entered train to Oran and from Oran to Tlemcen and to the border city of Sidi Abdelli between Algeria and Morocco.

After three month, I crossed into Morocco. First was a border town that I can't remember and then to Oujda from Oujda, I took a bus to Casablanca where I finally got an apartment, I stayed in a room with another guy, and I while a family stayed at the other room. I had no way of buying laptop straight away, (I am a software developer) (Github.com/ddarkcode) so I did what everyone was doing, which was beg since there was no way of getting a job. I thinking was in a month or two I will save enough money to buy a laptop and start coding again . But month and two weeks after settling in, I overhead someone saying he knows we are watching him as I was taking my bath. I thought to myself, this can't be real, after all I went through in Lagos. So, I kept quiet and paid attention and realized I have been watched right from the day I moved in. I continued paying attention and it became clear there were hidden cameras in the room and bathroom just like in Nigeria and that the guy I stayed with and the family sharing the other room were in on it so I confronted them but they played coy, apparently my younger brother who I told where I was going, told my cousin in Algeria who wanted me to join him in his business but as I thought about it, I couldn't reconcile being a software developer and doing his type of business (drugs) which made me continued to Morocco . I guess someone wasn't happy and knowing the circumstances that made me leave Nigeria, decided to teach me a lesson. So the people here in Morocco made preparations and were already waiting for me even before I arrived. I heard things like shebi he said he has power, na Morocco him dey, we go fall him hand and countless others. The invasion of my privacy and all those words prompted me to leave the apartment and start sleeping on the street because I had no other options. As I faced homelessness, my situation took a dark turn. Everywhere I went these people literally followed me, saying words like you will see, na Morocco you dey. Shebi him dey shame say we dey watch am for house, no be Morocco people don put camera everywhere wey him dey. No worry before October we go catch am. Before long my food and drinks were been missed with hard drugs without my knowledge. One time I went into a coffee shop and after drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, I was down for 3 to 4 days, unable to do anything and the taunting only got worse. Give am better drugs, we go fall him hand, etc. Mind you the things I was buying was actually from the locals but some how it ended up being missed with drugs. It was unbearable, cigarettes missed with drugs, food missed with drugs, it doesn't matter where I went, it was always the same. Frustration and despair led me to attempt suicide by drinking a rat poison, I found myself awoke inside of a hospital with no one around, I looked around but didn't see anyone, didn't even hear a whisper. I stood up from the hospital bed and went outside still no one. I went out of the premises and into the streets until I got to the place I used to sleep before I attempted the suicide and everything was the same or so I thought. As I continued reminiscing on those events, I discovered something strange. Wounds and burns were appearing all over my body. Different marks, from head to toe. My life became a nightmare. My wrist, legs and almost every part of my body broken in ways that I couldn't comprehend. Those I thought were friends had this habit of of always asking me if Arabo (the Moroccans) fought me, then it didn't make sense. I was subjected to unimaginable torture, enduring cuts and burns without respite every single second of every single day. I attempted suicide multiple times, stabbed my self twice on my belly, each time I fell asleep and awoke the next day with more cuts and burns. It wasn't just the cutting, wherever I am, they pump chemicals there. Food was drugged, the air I breathe was chemical. I couldn't sleep, stand, sit down or walk. The pain was unbearable . This continued for two weeks, after two weeks I pleaded for mercy but all my pleas fell on deaf ears, and the only response I received was, "Tell Us What You Did" After that night, I woke up the next morning and for the first time, I recognized myself and realized I was literally a mad man. That day I went to the beach to bath and change my clothes, I told someone where I was going and if he could shed some light on what happened to me and all he said was everywhere good. When I got to the beach, I met two Moroccans, I couldn't bath myself or wash my remaining clothes because my hands were literally broken, when they noticed they came and helped me out but in the process I heard someone say, omo those guys follow for people wey dey cut am, Dey say na him hair dey give am power, that once he cuts his hair all his power will go away. That the man say him know say na Morocco him go stay catch am, say him go collect him power. they even said the ship wey him pay for go come today, say him wan run go Europe but they dey wait for am. Apparently someone told them that he's going to catch me in Morocco, that I paid for a ship and that I want to run away that's why I came to the beach. According to this people, I I had money to pay for ship from Morocco to Europe but didn't have money to feed myself . This people were literally talking about me but everything they were saying made zero sense. I was weak, no food to eat, too tired to beg and so I left the beach and went on my way. As I was going, I heard someone say omo their police say they never see anyone like this before, then I realized this people were setting traps for me but everything they thought they knew about me wasn't what they were seeing. I couldn't get to the uncompleted building where I usually sleep so I slept by the road side. At night I heard Nigerians talking, see am, for Nigeria he lives like a rich man but see where he is sleeping. Those two hands tell am make him cut am well well. Vehicles were moving nonstop, when I woke up the next morning, the same guys that helped me bath were close by and been led to a taxi by someone I assumed to be a Nigerian.

And so it got me thinking, this cutting was done by Moroccans and they were influenced by the Nigerians of Igbo extraction in Morocco. There was a plan to fuck me up for things I don't know about. And so for the next four days, I went to the police headquarters in Casablanca, hoping that the police will intervene but each time, I was told to come back the next day. Wherever I went this people still followed me everywhere. But one thing became clear, no more cuts, my body slowly healed and I regained my strength and began to be aware of my environment and realized something strange, prior weeks during those periods of intense torture and pain, one thing stood out, you could count the number of cars passing, the big busses were only two, the number of private cars were limited and as I thought about all that and my current environment then I realized this must be "Virtual Reality", no other explanation. Everyday it felt as if this people were introducing things (Animals, Objects) to the environment to see how I will react to them. The fact that the environment was like it was designed for getting me at all cost, because there was never a moment of quiet. If it wasn't noisy bikes, it the trains or the trucks or dogs barking depending on the location. I'm someone that thinks out loud and they probably heard me because I passed by a coffee shop that evening I heard an Igbo man saying, oma anya this thing, oma nah o fake world. Which loosely translate to. He knows about this, he knows it a fake world. And for the next 2 to 3 months in the same morocco, it was days of the same. I always wake up to noice and arguments all round me but never seeing anyone , apparently they expect something to happen to me, but are surprised or should I say disappointed that nothing is happening. At one point I theorized that maybe they healed me and immediately I overhead someone saying, Who Wan Heal You, You go see. Nah morocco you dey. One day someone gave me croissant to eat and as I was about to eat I overheard a voice say he wan eat am oo, him think say we go come help am. This was basically my daily life in Morocco. One night, I woke up to urinate, I heard a Nigerian voice, an Igbo man saying, The guy bu kwa a great oracle upon all the knives this people used to cut him, he did not feel anything, this his hair we go cut am. They believed my hair imbued me with some supernatural powers, that was when I realized I was dealing with religious fanatics. I heard says like that guy dey see which meant that I could be see spiritual things. Everyday, the same thing over and over again. The funny thing is that everyday they argued with each other if I'm afraid but eventually I realized they were terrified of me. They literally believed I had supernatural powers and avoided me at all cost, only speaking from what they believed to be a safe distance. Even the one person I called my friend, When I told him some of the things that were happening, even though I already knew he was aware of everything, He said " raster I dey fear you" . Eventually I was contacted by my elder brother, who apparently left Nigeria for Canada that month. He proposed that I should return to Nigeria and that when I get to Nigeria, He'll send me money every month and that I won't have to work. All I had to do was focus on coding until I came over to Canada. And that if I don't want to go outside, I won't need to, that he's going to buy generator and that I shouldn't worry about anything. Well, I told him that I needed a laptop first because since I left Nigeria, I have not written a line of code. He sent money and I was able to purchase a good laptop there in Morocco. And so I started reviewing everything over again. It must be noted that I took some of the money and cut my hair, hoping they will realize that this is 2023 and those things is just nonsense but I guess you can't educate someone who is willfully ignorant. And as I started coding, the chatter and arguments intensified, Every single day, this people will gather somewhere close to the coffee shop where I was coding and argue from morning till night. It was like they were watching a reality tv show. There was never a moment of quiet for me. But I decided that the best thing to do was ignore the noise and blast music on a very high volume because to focus and code under such an environment was impossible. And other things that kept happening was I would order for coffee and they would serve me something that taste like shit, like someone was messing with it before serving me, same thing with cigar. They desperately wanted me to react, for me to lose my mind but I kept my cool and ignored them and everything they were doing. This continued from the moment I got the laptop till the day I left Morocco. I left Morocco on the 13th of November. There were a lot of Moroccans and Nigerians inside the flight. When I left MMIA that early morning on the 14th of of November, I overhead one Nigerian man telling a lady, The kind cutlas wey morocco use cut this guy eeh and they started laughing. They were having fun, they got to watch an unfiltered reality tv show to see how long someone can last before they break down . But the truth is that this thing did not end in Morocco, they still followed me to Nigeria and continued the same thing like nothing changed. after spending over 7 months in Morocco, putting me through the most horrible condition, they still felt unsatisfied and they had to continue from where they left off with their noise and arguments but Morocco already thought me to ignore and move on. I spent one week in my cousins place, same noise, things like, leave am tomorrow him go run and I always thought why tomorrow, if you had the ability to make me run why not do it today, why wait till tomorrow but then one morning I woke up and my cousin told me that he wanted me to leave his house and that he can't stay with me anymore. And so I moved to the next cousin apartment and convinced my brother that I needed to rent my own apartment. And so I eventually got this apartment at Edu Agbara, Ogun state, close to Agbara, Lagos State. The thing is how this people got access to this new place, I can't say for sure but I suspect that there are multiple hidden cameras in my bathroom, room, parlor and kitchen and that the Moroccans also followed me to Nigeria and have being trying to hurt me like they did before. They follow me everywhere, monitor everything I do and once I get leave the house, I they break in, out things in my food and so ritual in my house. You will hear people saying he's here charging phone and doesn't know what they're doing in his house . I am tired because I don't really know what to do so this is a call for help.