HOW I WAS NEARLY ‘INCARCERATED’ IN THE US

I am currently facing a fraud allegation and other cases with a state government in the US.

I had promised not to speak about it because the case is still with the US authorities.

But a comment by Jaypee on one of my recent posts is prompting me to say a bit of it.

“Do you know who I am? Do you know where I came from?”

(For their mind—just to command respect.)

“I am the CEO of XYZ.; I am the first Nigerian to... ; I have dined with Dangote; I have won several awards.; I have gotten grants of XYZ millions; I have done projects with the World Bank...” Blah blah blah.

These are the usual lines many use to introduce themselves—which is fine.

But me, I chose not to attach any of those titles to my name.

I always appear simple and local—just the mgbeke that I am.

I presented a low profile of myself as someone who came from the village to the US to hustle, that I don’t know anyone in the US and I’m struggling on my own.

Because of that, I was seen as vulnerable—someone they could mess up and nothing would happen.

I was intimidated, emotionally attacked, and kicked out into the streets with false allegations and threats of deportation.

I became destabilized, traumatized, confused.

I incurred financial losses.

I became homeless and ended up in a shelter.

I was shaken by the psychological and emotional trauma.

Image: In front of the shelter home

Please, check out my FB reflective posts from April and early May 2025 and the miracle experience I encountered on Easter Sunday. https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1HkXQmyG39/

I was going through a lot during that time.

Every day I had nightmares, soaked my bed linens with tears.

I developed anxiety, battled uncontrollable thoughts, depression, and feelings of hopelessness though with strong hope on God's intervention

Most friends in the US couldn’t come to my aid except Okwudili

I was denied or given very limited access to my devices—my phone, laptop, tablet.

I was battling in silence.

Until Pastor Peter Oyediran 🙏 and members of the Redeemed Church of God, Jesus House, Huntsville, Alabama 'forced" me share my tale and they supported my healing process.

I remain forever indebted to them.

The person(s) who caused me all this didn’t know I was connected to the US Embassy and corporate bodies in the US.

That I am a Mandela Washington Fellow, a Vital Voices Fellow and more.

I am innocent.

I have a clean record in the US.

I notified a unit within the US

I notified a unit within the US Embassy and received directives on what to do.

I won't share more till the case is over.

But I’m sharing this now to say:

Sometimes, it is good to disguise yourself—to truly see the actions of people about you.

I have a priest friend who usually disguises himself to know how his staffs treat people—not just how they “worship” him because he is a priest.

By doing so, he gets a glimpse into how they attend to clients—and trains them better for excellent service delivery.

Me, I give equal respect to every human life—not because of your title or your outward appearance.

I cherish what is within, not what is outside.

I may be wrong—but that is how I am wired.

Despite the psychological torture, I have no regrets the way I presented myself.

It is a learnt experience which I will use to teach the world a lesson and prevent other victims.

Nkechi Udegboka (Ada Africa)

Parts 3 & 4: COTONOU TO AFLAO BORDER - DANGLING WITH THE TOUTS

Local2Global with Ada Africa: #L2G

Hold onto your hats, folks – it's time for the next thrilling chapter of my border-hopping bonanza! We're about to dive into the wild world of border shenanigans, where passport stamps are like golden tickets, and the currency exchange game is a rollercoaster of its own. This time, we're taking off from Cotonou to Aflao border.

Get ready for a comedy of errors happening at the West African borders. I trekked to reach the Cotonou Park, ready for the next leg of this fearful journey to Togo's Aflao border.

The driver, in a moment of misguided goodwill, suggested a money-changing maestro. Little did I know, the driver had a 'recommendation' for a money changer and got a share from my loss. They ripped me off. Note to self: Next time, do a lap around and choose your currency comrade wisely. Lesson learned.

Fast forward to a smooth ride to the Aflao border, during which I entered the realm of deep nap. Yes, I dozed off, and lo and behold, we zipped past the Hila condji border without getting my passport stamped.

Prompt my frustration – I woke up fuming, ready to give the driver a piece of my mind. His response? 'It’s nothing biggie, we got connections. It will be fixed'.

Enter the ‘saviour’ a mysterious man summoned by the driver to help me cross the border. I spilled the beans about my unstamped passport debacle at Condji border, fearing the border immigration would unleash me with interrogation.

Mr. Fix-It promised to make all my passport stamp woes disappear for a mere 15,000 CFA. Uh-uh, not on my watch! I'm a law-abiding African, dammit!

As I pondered my options, Mr. Fix-It started suggesting ways to bend the rules at the border. He suggested some creative passport gymnastics, bypassing the stamping process altogether. Spoiler alert!

These folks don't care about the aftermath, as long as your money finds its way into their pockets. But nope, not me – I wanted my trip to be a legit masterpiece, following all the ECOWAS treaty rules of movement. No shortcuts, just straight-up adventure.

I am the epitome of law-abiding African wanderlust. With a heart full of courage and a passport in hand, I waltzed up to the Togo immigration counter, where a few non-Africans were juggling forms like paperwork acrobats.

I waited without talking to anyone till an officer finally asked what I wanted, and the comedy of my poor French skills ensued. 'Je dormais à Condji, pas de timbre!' Translation: I was asleep at Condji, no stamp! 😂

The officer, playing the language card, claimed not to understand English, so I butchered French with the finesse of a linguistic acrobat. He threw a 5000 CFA price tag on my passport's redemption.

Bargaining skills activated! After a theatrical exchange of pleas and haggling, victory was mine – a mere 1000 CFA paid, and voila, my passport was adorned with the coveted stamp of legitimacy. I triumphantly strolled to the Ghana side, ready for the next act in this border-hopping circus.

Read on for the next uproarious installment, where my travel document was seized and I was sent back to Nigeria.

Share your thoughts with me as you read 🙏🏾

Ada Africa 🌍 +2348033842029

PART 4: SENT BACK TO NIGERIA BECAUSE OF THE PHASED OUT YELLOW CARD

Ah, dear reader, the chronicles of my border-crossing adventure has turned to misadventure. Join me in the lamentation of bureaucratic woe and the agony of yellow card calamities at the Ghana Aflao border.

As fate would have it, the Ghanaian port Health officer, a stern young lady with a penchant for chaos, laid eyes on my yellow card. An immediate demand emerged from her lips – '150 cedis for a new yellow card, or 40 cedis to pass.' My vaccinations are still up to date, but alas, the old yellow card was a ticket to my woes.

Her demeanor? Mean and rude, a true maestro of bureaucratic malevolence. With a decree that felt like a gavel strike, she cast me back to Nigeria, vowing to seal the border gates ahead of me. Maintaining that I either pay the money (illegal fee) or go back to Nigeria.

The E-yellow card, a looming specter, became the nemesis I never saw coming. I concluded that the E-yellow card will be the first thing to get once I arrive at my destination. I have the cash amount they are requesting for, but I can't waste such to get E-yellow card with signed and stamped vaccinations on it unreal.

Dejected and unhappy as I watched hundreds of commuters pay the illegal amount to cross. I sought refuge to document my sorrows in the journal of my travel mishaps, part of what you are reading now.

The Mr. Fix-It and co-touts that followed me from Togo-side, those purveyors of border mischief, approached me with their nefarious proposition – 15,000CFA for a smooth passage. I maintained my principles and endured. I brushed them off, penning my tribulations on paper, unknowing to me that the border officials were observing me.

Enter a senior health port officer, I narrated and pleaded with him. He said he will talk to his colleague to consider me. 40 mins after, I went back to him and he offered a cruel ultimatum – pay the money or surrender your yellow card.

With a painful heart, I opted for the latter. I took pictures of the yellow card and the inner pages bearing stamped dates of the vaccinations, after which they seized my vaccination card.

Off to the immigration counter, the officer beckoned, demanding its toll in the form of a stamp fee. A standoff ensued, my eyes narrowed at the proclaimed fee pasted on the wall. I gave them a brief ECOWAS treaty tutorial on free movement of persons. Instantly, my passport received its desired entry stamp.

With the ordeal seemingly over, I retreated to journal my anguish. Two lurking police officers, curious about my scribblings, approached for a glance on my paper. I flipped fast to a page showing records of my expenditure tracking of the journey, with the explanation that I have to submit the account to my office for reimbursement.

In reality, since cameras are not allowed at the border, I penned down their names and actions. I left them and trekked to find my way to Abidjan.

It was past 2pm and scheduled for departure to Cote D’Voire by 7pm so I had hours to explore the border.

I found a place to eat since I've not had breakfast for the day. I sought solace in a local eatery and ordered a Ghanaian delicacy, Banku with Tilapia fish. I enjoyed the fish sauce and left the banku because there was nothing like a spoon in the restaurant to eat with.

I had a few Ghana cedis with me. I paid with the green paper currency, and she returned the money that she doesn't know what I gave her. On checking, I realized it was South African Rand. I mixed it up when I was sorting out different country currencies I had before the trip, I mistakenly took the South African Rand and left the Ghana cedis, both currencies were of similar colour. I didn't plan to buy things in cedis and changing money wouldn't make sense. I pleaded to pay in CFA instead, which she collected.

As I strolled around, contemplating when the 100+ passenger bus will fill up, I discovered a beach. It was an amazing sight to renew myself with nature while I admired and picked a lot of sea shells for our craft work at OmaAfri Designs.

Late Realization? Traders from Ivory Coast arrived with the bus to Ghana in the morning, went to buy goods and returning with goods bought to travel with the same bus back to Cote’Voire. The bus filled up, not just with people, but with teary stories of bureaucratic battles, currency value confusions, and the resilience of a lone traveler navigating the unpredictable West African cross-border chaos.

Stay tuned, for the saga is far from over.

#YellowCardSaga #BorderWoes #CurrencyConfusion #AdaAfrica

Ada Africa 🌍 +2348033842029; local2global4@gmail.com

Local2Global with Ada Africa: HOW I ‘TREKKED’ FROM OBOSI TO FREETOWN FOR NOTHING

Join me on a frightening adventure as I recount my vagabond from Obosi to Freetown in Sierra Leone. Buckle up as I take you through the highs and lows, the laughter and tears, the twists, turns, and unexpected encounters.

I personally chose to embark on the daring journey, driven by a passion to explore my Africa and a thirst for discovery.

PART 1: OBOSI TO LAGOS

In the course of my career programs in South Africa, Brazil, US, Italy and Germany, I interacted with Sierra Leoneans. I love the name, Freetown very much and put it on my bucket list of African countries to visit. I got a training to facilitate in Sierra Leone and I thought it’s a good time to explore and observe what happens at the West African borders.

I chose to travel by road. I prepared and tagged it an adventurous trip. To avoid anyone instilling fear in me or discouraging me, I didn't tell close allies that I will be doing a road trip. I made searches online and spoke with drivers of transport companies that ply the route. None gets to Liberia nor Sierra Leone, hence I decided to break the journey in bits from OBOSI.

I set out in October 2023 one Tuesday morning for Lagos by road from OBOSI. I had a nightmare at the Benin by-pass and got demoralized from continuing the trip to FREETOWN. It opened another chapter of suffering for travelers making it look like a journey to hell. The Benin Bypass was dreadfully distressed and a foe. I was actually warned but I wanted to experience it.

We endured harrowing experiences that lasted many hours as the potholes on the road have graduated to boreholes, causing terrible gridlock. Trailers and other heavy duty vehicles were stuck in the cascading mud.

I saw frustrated-looking passengers like myself. I rushed down from the vehicle when I couldn't get air to breathe. I made an instant decision not to ply the road on my way back.

While at Ore, I got a call that my brother, Mr. Kyrian Udegboka just died on that Benin by-pass. I was shocked though I wasn't surprised that not everyone can withstand what happened on that road. May his soul rest in peace. Amen.

I continued the journey in fear and kept asking a priest the possibility of getting to FREETOWN by road and if he knows anyone that has done such a trip before. I got to Ago, Lagos past 8pm and was totally worn out.

I didn't book with any transport company going to the West Coast, because they will limit the adventures and observations I want to make at the borders. I want to walk freely and take my time to avoid any driver hurrying me up.

Stay tuned for more hilarity and gravity, as I spill the beans on the journey from Obosi to Freetown!

Ada Africa 🌍

PART 2: LAGOS TO SEME BORDER - DANCING WITH IMMIGRATION DRAGONS

So, the saga continues on my epic trek from Lagos to Freetown! Rise and shine at the crack of dawn – 5am to be precise! Destination: Mile 2. I embarked on the quest to unravel the mysteries of border-hopping, armed with a heart full of curiosity.

Little did I know, the agberos (transport touts) were ready to woo me into their vehicles like persistent suitors, promising a journey direct to Togo that will be smoother than a baby's bum-bum. But no, I had my eyes set on conquering the Seme border solo – the true adventurer's way.

I was on a mission to be the master of my border-crossing destiny. My dance of persuasion with the agberos lasted till a fashionably late 6:30am. Patience is a virtue, right? So, off I hopped onto the Seme border express.

As we cruised from Badagry towards Seme, the immigration checkpoint made a grand entrance. Passport? Check. Documents? Not really. Turns out, they knew the local traders so well, they didn't bother asking for their travel papers. The driver got a little side paid hustle, to cross the passenger in the front seat, while the other lady sorted herself out. Yours truly, armed with a passport, became the odd one out.

At the last stop, the driver, sensing my solo border-crossing bravado, asked if I needed his expertise to drive me across the border. After a brief internal debate, I reluctantly caved in. As we hit the Nigerian side, I was greeted with a jaw-dropping sight – a border makeover! Upgraded version of airport terminal, digitized systems, and the whole shebang! Gone were the sore sights I experienced in 2016, the last time I used the border.

First stop, my fingerprints and photo passport captured – like a VIP at a biometric spa! Then came the payment counter – N1000 for virgin passports (if you have been to the US, UK, etc your passport is virgin if you haven’t cross the border with it. lol), and N500 if your passport has seen the border-stamping action before.I questioned the legality of the stamping fee, and out of the blue, an Igbo officer (bless his heart) stamped my passport, liberating me from the clutches of paying the illegal fee.

But hold onto, I’m not yet free to leave – Benin Republic's immigration had its own dance of demands. Money for the stamp, you say? Again entered the benevolent Igbo officer signaling him to stamp and let me go.

But, oh, the plot thickens! The health port officer pulled me into her vaccination web, demanding a yellow card. Turns out, there is something unwell with my vaccination card, the card has been phased out and replaced with E-card. I felt bad not knowing about it as I’ve used it in all my previous travels. She pitched me an E-card upgrade for the cool price of 5k. Regrettably, I declined, thinking I'll get it on the flip side of the trip. Little did I know, that decision would come back to haunt me.

Trekking to the park, another group of officers had to check my passport, page by page and on seeing two pages with US visas, asked me to share some dollars with them. They delayed me for a while, humorously said it remains small for me to become a US citizen, so let them chop some dollars with me. Lol.

Stay tuned for the next parts, where my yellow card takes center stage and my dance with border officers gets even messier!

#BorderBlunders #YellowCardDrama #SoloTrekChronicles

Ada Africa 🌍 +2348033842029; local2global4@gmail.com; www.whaiafrica.org