Anambra Declares War on ‘Iron Kwandem’: The Scavengers Turning Theft Into an Art
In the bustling city of Awka, Anambra State, something strange had been unfolding. For months now, residents had been noticing things going missing—things that once seemed permanent fixtures of the landscape. Iron gates would disappear overnight, metal covers for gutters would vanish without a trace, and even the protective railings along the expressway had started to mysteriously erode, piece by piece.
It was a typical Friday afternoon when Commissioner Paul Nwosu, the state’s spokesperson, addressed the curious case of the “Ndi Akpakara” or “Iron Kwandem,” a group of itinerant scavengers. In his usual sharp but concerned tone, Nwosu spoke to the press, his hands gripping a document as he laid out the seriousness of the situation.
“These people,” he began, “you’ve seen them in your neighbourhoods, haven’t you? They roam the streets, yelling ‘Iron Kwandem!’ at the top of their lungs, just like the old village town criers. But they’re not just after your old scraps. Oh no, their mission goes far beyond that.”
Seated in the crowd, a local journalist named Chioma scribbled notes furiously. She had heard stories about the “Iron Kwandem” but never imagined the extent of their damage. Beside her, a businessman whispered to his colleague, “They came to my shop last week, asking for scrap. I had no idea they were behind all these thefts!”
Nwosu continued, “What used to be harmless transactions—selling old, disused metal—has turned into something much more sinister. These scavengers are now the cause of our most frustrating woes. They’re not just carting away unwanted scrap; they’re stealing public and private property alike! The gutters’ metal covers, highway medians, steel railings—they take everything, leaving behind nothing but destruction.”
The room fell silent as the commissioner’s words painted a picture of growing lawlessness. Nwosu shook his head as he mentioned the brazen nature of their thefts. “I don’t know about you,” he said, his voice low but firm, “but I wonder how these men dare to do what they do. They steal so boldly as if they’ve been given some invisible license to wreak havoc. And the worst part? They’ve even started dismantling the new infrastructure we’ve worked so hard to build.”
Chioma raised her hand to ask a question. “Sir, could you give us a specific example?”
Nwosu nodded solemnly. “Just look at what they’ve done to Nnamdi Azikiwe University’s fence along the expressway. Entire sections of it have been stripped of their iron components, stolen piece by piece. And it doesn’t stop there. Shortly after the grand opening of the second Niger Bridge, would you believe these scavengers tore off the side-bars, beams, and heavy steel sheets? It’s as if they have no fear of the law or the damage they leave behind.”
There was a collective gasp among the attendees. The Niger Bridge was a symbol of national pride, and the thought of it being desecrated like that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine.
A local shop owner in the back of the room muttered, “Even the solar streetlights, too? They’ve taken those poles, haven’t they?”
Nwosu caught his remark and addressed it directly. “Yes, even the solar streetlights are being dismantled for their parts. And it doesn’t stop with public property. I’ve heard stories of people coming home after a holiday to find their iron gates gone, as if they never existed. It’s theft of the worst kind.”
A pause hung in the air as the weight of the problem settled in. Then Nwosu straightened up, his face hardening with resolve. “No responsible government will sit by and watch this lawlessness continue. These scavengers are committing robbery, plain and simple. And from today, we are placing a total ban on their operations.”
Whispers of approval swept through the room, but Nwosu wasn’t done. “And let this serve as a warning: anyone caught doing business with these scavengers will face the full wrath of the law. Receiving stolen property is a crime, and we will prosecute offenders to the fullest extent. We must all play our part in protecting the state’s economy and infrastructure.”
As the press conference wrapped up, Chioma gathered her things and glanced at the faces around her. The commissioner’s words had hit hard. The “Ndi Akpakara” had gone from being annoying street merchants to a real threat, tearing at the fabric of society, one metal beam at a time.
Walking out of the building, she overheard a man on the phone, urging his brother to report any suspicious scavengers to the authorities. Clearly, Nwosu’s message had struck a chord. The battle against But this time, it wouldn’t go unanswered.
