Pregnant and Armed: The Day My Wife Joined a Robbery Gang (By Force!)

Story By Prince Agbedeyi Odimientimi Desmond  and  compiled by  Seigha Dora Ayedi| May 29, 2025 for Egbema Egberi Media International 

You know those Nollywood movies where a pregnant woman fights off ten armed robbers and still gives birth without sweating? I used to laugh at them—until 2010, when life decided to shoot a full season of “Madam Rambo” starring my eight-month pregnant wife.

It all started like any regular day in Ogwashi Uku. I ran a humble business center near First Bank, and that morning I had stopped by briefly before heading to my main job at the Department of Mathematics and Statistics at Delta State Polytechnic. Nothing fancy—just a simple Nigerian husband doing simple Nigerian hustles.

I barely warmed my office chair when I got that call:

“Oga, dem dey rob First Bank oh! Everywhere don scatter!!”

I froze. My heart jumped. But not for the bank. My wife—my heavily pregnant wife—was at the shop next door.

I rushed out faster than a final-year student checking the result board.

Later, I pieced the madness together:

Apparently, the robbers didn’t just want money—they wanted style. They stormed the bank with full confidence and creativity. But when it came time to carry their bullet magazines, they didn’t call their gang members. Oh no.

They chose my wife. Eight months pregnant. Wearing wrapper. Probably eating boiled corn.

They marched her out of my business center and drafted her into the gang—no interview, no contract, no pension.

“You! Madam belle! Carry this bullet!!”

She thought they were joking. She laughed.

They didn’t.

Suddenly, my sweet, gentle wife became their Armor Bearer Extraordinaire—handing out AK-47 magazines like gala at Ojota. Bang-bang—“Madam, another one!” Bang-bang—“Quick quick!”

And there she was: shielding their backs with her belly like a human tank.

Bullets rained. People screamed. One innocent woman sadly lost her life to a stray bullet (may her soul rest in peace). But somehow, not a single bullet touched my wife or our unborn son. Not one. Not even a graze.

She came out, dusted her wrapper, and said,

“I think Daniel wants suya now.”

Right then and there, I knew what to name him—Daniel, like the one from the Bible who entered the lion’s den and came out without a scratch. Except this time, the lions had AK-47s and wore black jeans.

Today, whenever Daniel misbehaves, I tell him:

“You see this your stubborn head? You survived AK-47 at eight months! You better fear God oh!”

And as for my wife? She now has bragging rights forever.

“How many women have carried pregnancy AND bullets for one hour under fire? Call me Madam Commando!”

So if you see me walking proudly beside her, know it’s not just love—it’s respect. Because once upon a time in Ogwashi Uku, my wife didn’t just carry a child—she carried a whole robbery operation on her back and lived to tell the tale.

For Advertising and booking, contact: +2348134902214 or +39 348 610 6794 

 For payment and Support: Agbedeyi Odimientimi Desmond 3017861172, First Bank