Lagos, Nigeria - The 57 men stumbled out
of the back of a dark police truck into the glare of a sunny
courtyard and a phalanx of cameras. Some clutched another's
hand, as if for comfort. They lined up on wooden benches in the
dirt, almost all of them trying to hide their faces, and not
succeeding.
Standing behind a bank of microphones, the Lagos state
police commissioner, Imohimi Edgal, told the gathered
journalists that he personally had ordered the raid that swept
up the men after the authorities received a tip-off that young
men were being initiated into a "homosexual club."
Edgal declared that homosexuality ran contrary to the Same
Sex Marriage Prohibition Act. That law, which drew international
condemnation when it came into force in 2014, targets not only
same-sex unions but homosexual relations in general with prison
terms of up to 14 years.
"It is the duty of everybody, not only the police, to ensure
that such antisocial behaviour, such social vices, such crimes,
are checked so that we can create communities that protect our
children from such deviant behaviour," he said.
The cameras panned over the faces of the men, capturing
expressions of shame, fear and anger. Most of them remained
quiet, but others answered journalists' questions.
"What is the definition of a gay? It is when you are caught
having sex, intercourse, with a guy. They didn't caught me,"
shouted James Brown, a wiry young man who said he had been hired
to dance at a birthday party and had done nothing wrong.
Chris Agiriga, 23, says he lost his job as a community outreach worker with an HIV charity after his arrest. "I called my director. He saw what happened on TV. He said he couldn't employ me because it brings shame," Agiriga said. Picture: Temilade Adelaja/Reuters
The phrase "they didn't caught me" quickly went viral. Video
footage of the August 2018 news conference has since been viewed
more than half a million times. Friends, colleagues and
strangers all learned of the allegations from the videos that
circulated online.
Last November, after more than a year of court hearings,
Brown was among 47 men who pleaded not guilty to a charge of
public displays of affection by people of the same sex. Arrest
warrants were issued for the 10 other men who failed to appear
in court. In a landmark case that may reach its resolution this
month, the men face 10 years in prison if found guilty under the
2014 law, which has never been used to secure a conviction.
But prison time or no, the men have already been punished.
In this resolutely Christian and Muslim country, homosexuality
is broadly rejected across society, as casual as a snub on the
street and as serious as Sharia law that threatens death by
stoning.
One of the men is a married father of four who says he had
driven people to the party to earn extra money. For a time, he
went without electricity because he couldn't pay the bills after
being fired; even in the darkness of his house, the strain
between him and his wife was visible to a visiting Reuters
journalist.
Another man slept in a church outhouse after his
family threw him out, until he was finally cast out of that safe
harbour, too. A third man lives in fear of the street toughs who
have beaten him up three times after recognizing him from the
viral videos of the perp walk. And the man who was celebrating
his birthday avoided arrest but is now overwhelmed by guilt,
seeing blame even in his friends' eyes.
These are the stories of lives broken by a birthday party
late one night in Lagos – and by a culture that cast the men
adrift.
Smart Joel, 25, one of the Nigerian men arrested on charges of public display of affection with members of the same sex, leans against the railings on the balcony at his home in Lagos. "I'm always scared," he said, recounting an attack that took place last year in which a group of men called him out as the "gay guy who was arrested" and stole his phone, money and wristwatch. Picture: Temilade Adelaja/Reuters
THE FAMILY MAN
Around 2 on a Sunday morning, they streamed out of the
building, running in every direction. Within seconds, the
birthday party at a Lagos hotel turned into a stampede as people
fled armed policemen who had burst into the compound.
"I couldn't understand what was happening," said Onyeka
Oguaghamba, a trade union officer who used a borrowed car as a
taxi at weekends. "Was it armed robbers or a fire?"
Oguaghamba had been dozing in the car park of the Kelly Ann
Hotel. After a long journey driving three customers to the hotel
in the Egbeda suburb, he said, he had decided to sleep in the
car rather than risk a perilous journey home on potholed roads
where he could encounter armed robbers.
Assuming the dozens of people who raced past him were
fleeing danger, Oguaghamba said, he got out of the car and ran.
Before he could reach the hotel compound's gates, however, he
was pulled to the ground and struck repeatedly on his head.
Seconds later, he said, he realised he was being held by a
policeman using a gun as a bludgeon. Lagos state police
spokesman Bala Elkana declined to comment on the beating claim
on the grounds that the raid predated him. He rejected emailed
and text message requests to speak to police officers who
participated in the raid.
The impact on Oguaghamba's life was swift. After two weeks
in police detention, he was fired as a bookkeeper with the
Nigeria Union Of Petroleum and Natural Gas Workers, a job he had
held for eight years. His employers had seen the videos on
social media and didn't believe his explanation, he said. His
former manager declined to respond to text messages and phone
calls from a journalist.
The 42-year-old, who insists he is not gay, was unable to
find work for a year after his arrest. Finally, in December, he
was hired as a driver for a transport company.
Even his four boys – aged 6, 7 and two 10-year-olds –
weren't immune from the innuendo that swirled around their
father. While he was in police detention, they were told their
father had been on television.
"I felt so bad, although they didn't understand what gay
means," he said. "They asked me why police arrested me and they
were showing me on television. I explained to them that the
police can arrest anybody at any time."
Walking past locals in his Lagos neighbourhood, Oguaghamba
greeted people with "good morning," as is customary across
Nigeria. Most returned the greeting, but some, particularly men,
seemed reluctant to acknowledge him, barely nodding in response
and looking away.
There was tension at home too.
"When I came back from that Ikoyi prison, people talked a
lot to my wife. They tell her a lot of things," he said,
referring to those who questioned his motives for being at the
hotel that night.
Wedding photos of Oguaghamba, known to most people by his
Christian name Miracle, and his wife, Juliette, take pride of
place on the living room walls. But as the couple discussed the
case with a visiting journalist recently, they rarely made eye
contact; he looked at the floor, and she fixed her gaze straight
ahead.
While he was being detained, Juliette sent protection money
to an inmate so he would be spared the beatings that he says
many of the others he was arrested with were subjected to.
"She suffered a lot to bail me out," Oguaghamba said. Aside
from the money, there was the indignity of a policewoman at the
station accusing Juliette of having a gay husband. "When I got
back, we started having issues."
Finally, relations improved after a family meeting was
convened at which her elder sister acted as a mediator between
the couple.
"Because of the incident, it was very difficult for us,"
Juliette said. "There is no evidence. You can't just barge into
a hotel and pick people," she said, her voice growing louder.
"I know my husband very well. He doesn't play such games.
This is 11 years of marriage," she said. "It makes me cry. It
makes me angry because he lost a lot."
The house was dark at the time because the electricity had
been turned off weeks after the annual rent was due in October.
Oguaghamba said he was able to pay some, but not all, of the
money. The landlord has threatened to evict the family if it
can't pay the outstanding sum.
Oguaghamba said he was angry at the way his life had been
upended.
"I'm angry because what they are saying is not fact," he
said. "They shared my pictures and video on social media. It's a
very shameful thing."
Some of the Nigerian men arrested on charges of public display of affection with members of the same sex stand beside the gate of the Federal High Court in Lagos. Picture: Temilade Adelaja/Reuters
THE POLICE
The Lagos police force has yet to disclose what its officers
saw during the raid that led to the charge of public displays of
same-sex affection against Oguaghamba and the other men.
Since the November arraignment, the judge has adjourned the
case three times because prosecution lawyers were unable to
produce their witnesses. The judge threatened to throw out the
case if the prosecution didn't produce its key witness at the
next hearing in March.
Police officials rejected a Reuters request for the police
commissioner to provide details of the evidence that prompted
the mass arrest and charges. Spokesman Elkana said the current
commissioner wasn't in the job at the time and therefore
couldn't comment.
Edgal, the commissioner who said he personally ordered the
raid, left office early last year for a commissioner position in
southern Nigeria. He didn't respond to requests for comment on
the raid.
But in a wide-ranging media briefing with journalists in
January, the current Lagos commissioner, Hakeem Odumosu, spoke
broadly about the application of the same-sex law.
"As police officers, we are to enforce the laws," he said.
"So on the same-sex marriage now, we stand by the position of
the law."
Nigeria hasn't disclosed how many people have been detained
under the law. But based on reports of mass police raids,
Reuters estimates that the number is likely to run into the
hundreds each year. Information is also scarce on the number of
prosecutions, but activist groups say they know of none.
Xeenarh Mohammed, executive director of Nigerian rights
group the Initiative for Equal Rights, which has been providing
legal and counselling support for the men arrested in the raid,
said the law prohibiting same-sex unions "has simply been used
again and again and again to harass people, to pick people for
perceived sexual orientation or gender identity."
The accusation of extortion and police harassment also has
been levelled by international rights campaigners. In a 2016
report, Human Rights Watch cited a number of alleged victims of
police officers who had used the threat of a prison sentence to
extort money from them.
In interviews with Reuters, five people who acknowledged
having same-sex relationships said that police in Lagos use that
fear and the threat of the law to extort money from men.
Nigerian police have repeatedly denied the claim. Nigeria's
attorney-general and a spokesman for the Justice Ministry didn't
respond to text messages and phone calls seeking comment on the
accusations.
In addition to the national same-sex law, 12 of Nigeria's 36
states apply Sharia law. In those states, in the predominantly
Muslim north of the country, same-sex acts carry maximum
penalties of death for men and whipping and/or imprisonment for
women. Cases are infrequent, however, which means the punishment
is rarely carried out.
Gay people in Lagos say they live in fear of their sexuality
becoming publicly known. Members of the gay community said they
arrange discreet private gatherings such as house parties in the
homes of friends. Many also turn to dating apps and social media
to set up romantic liaisons. But criminals sometimes use these
secret rendezvous to carry out attacks known locally as "kito,"
in which a gay person arrives to meet a person for the first
time only to be kidnapped, beaten and sometimes raped, said
rights campaigners and two people who told Reuters they had been
victims of such attacks.
James Burutu (C), 25, who was celebrating his birthday when 57 Nigerian men were arrested on charges of public display of affection with members of the same sex, spends time with Chris Agiriga (L), 23, one of the men arrested at the party, at a local bar in Lagos. Picture: Temilade Adelaja/AP
THE MAN WHO BROUGHT SHAME
When he was a child, Chris Agiriga said, his aunt gave him a
home after his mother left Lagos to pursue a new life. Some 20
years later, his aunt told him to leave after he appeared on TV
in the police line-up.
"Everyone in the area knew about it," said the 23-year-old
from Egbeda, the same district as the hotel. "I brought shame
upon the whole family."
Agiriga's aunt took him to her church and arranged for her
pastor to house him on the premises. Agiriga slept on the floor
of an outhouse that he shared with another homeless man who had
been taken in by the church.
The church pastor told Reuters that Agiriga was a vulnerable
young man who had been taken advantage of. He wanted to help.
But the arrangement ended after five months during which Agiriga
clashed with his roommate. Agiriga said the roommate sent
threatening text messages about turning him in to the police for
"his lifestyle." When asked for his version of events, the
roommate declined to offer an explanation and told a Reuters
journalist to leave the church premises.
Agiriga now lives in a safe house for men in Lagos.
He says he lost his job as a community outreach worker with
an HIV charity after his arrest. In Nigeria, unlike in other
parts of the world, the condition is not primarily associated
with gay communities but with unprotected sex in general.
"I called my director. He saw what happened on TV. He said
he couldn't employ me because it brings shame," Agiriga said.
Olubiyi Oludipe, executive director of the Improved Sexual
Health & Rights Advocacy Initiative, said Agiriga had already
been "disengaged" when the raid happened but was unable to
specify when. He said Agiriga's performance hadn't been
satisfactory but declined to elaborate further.
"We have never laid off any of our project volunteers
because of police arrest or based on sexual orientation and
gender identity," he said in an emailed statement. "We always
treat everyone as equal."
Before the raid, Agiriga wanted to pursue a career as a
fashion designer. But he dropped out of his fashion course after
losing the job that funded his studies. Agiriga now works as an
HIV counsellor for a nonprofit group.
Agiriga didn't even know the birthday celebrant. A friend
invited him, he said, and he was reluctant but was persuaded to
go.
Police raided the venue around 30 minutes after he arrived.
"I regret going to the party," he said. "I lost my job, I
lost my family, I lost a lot my friends – all because of this."
THE TARGET
For one of the other suspects, the dominant emotion since
the arrest has been fear.
Smart Joel said he has been beaten up three times by gangs
of men known in Lagos as "area boys" who said they recognised
him from the video. People still point and stare as he walks by,
he said, although it was worse in the first few months following
the video.
"I'm always scared," the diminutive 25-year-old said,
recounting an attack that took place last year in which a group
of men called him out as the "gay guy who was arrested" and
stole his phone, money and wristwatch.
Before the arrest, he said, it was the police who made him
fearful. "Police officers will stop you and then get you
arrested. Extort money from you and begin to call you names,"
Joel said. "That is not what the law talks about. They tend to
harass."
Joel's livelihood has also suffered. He runs a laundry and
dry-cleaning business from the room he shares with his mother
and five younger siblings.
An iron and a chair draped with pressed clothes take up the
tiny part of the floor not covered by the double bed shared by
Joel's mother and his four sisters. But many customers have
deserted him. "The ones that saw the video stopped coming to me.
My income became unstable," he said. The family has struggled to
pay bills and buy food since then.
"It has not been easy," he said. "At some point I had to
move on, not minding the stigma, the discrimination and the
dirty language."
Chris Agiriga (L), 23, one of the Nigerian men arrested on charges of public display of affection with members of the same sex, spends time with a friend at a local bar in Lagos. Before the raid, Agiriga wanted to pursue a career as a fashion designer. But he dropped out of his fashion course after losing the job that funded his studies. Agiriga now works as an HIV counsellor for a nonprofit group. Picture: Temilade Adelaja/Reuters
THE HOST
Most of those arrested in August 2018 had gathered to
celebrate James Burutu's 24th birthday, a party that promised to
last from "10pm till mama calls."
The sense of guilt he has lived with since then has been
made worse by the fact that he wasn't among those seized by
police, he said.
He was still preparing for the party in a hotel room with
friends when the raid took place; parties in Lagos often spill
over well into the early hours of the day.
But even though he wasn't arrested, the raid also changed
his life. He says he has been ostracised by relatives. "So many
of my family members don't want to see me because of this
issue," he said.
His elder sister asked him to leave the house she and her
husband had shared with him. Three days of homelessness
followed, during which he slept underneath a bridge, before he
sought shelter with friends.
And, as with a number of those who were arrested, he says he
was fired. "My company said they didn't want to hear about a gay
issue, and that if I continue working with them it would be a
threat to the company," he said.
Eleganza, a Lagos-based company that produces plastic
furniture, didn't immediately respond to emails seeking comment
on Burutu's claims. A staff member, in a phone call, said he
couldn't comment.
Many of Burutu's friends, some of whom wondered aloud how he
managed to evade arrest, now refuse to speak to him.
"My life has been shattered," he said.
JUSTICE
For the family man, Oguaghamba, his options look limited. If
he is evicted, he might have to uproot his children from the
only home they've ever known and return to his home state of
Imo, in southeast Nigeria. He hasn't lived there in more than 20
years.
"I am not happy at all," he said, perched on a threadbare
armchair in his living room.
Despite the setbacks, however, he remains optimistic about
the future.
He maintains he is innocent and believes he finally has a
chance to defend himself after seeing his image tarnished on
social media.
"All my joy is that we are in the federal high court and
that this matter will come to an end," he said. "I believe that
victory will be mine."]