The phone was cracking, but I heard him for the first time. “Aunty, did you hear me?”
“Yes, I did,” I said, tired from explaining this one thing to two hundred and forty persons. “Do your work? I would say, just give it your best.” But today, for a lot of people residing in Nigeria, it’s beyond doing your work first and foremost. It’s about who you know and who you can pull to your side; the work is secondary. This young man had seen me on TV at my professional assignment as Director of Ceremony, which involved some Nigerian top brass.
‘I saw you say hello to the minister,’ he insisted. You can help me. Let him post me to a lucrative department. I am unable to make ends meet. Imagine! For him, anyone else can go to Siberia, but not him. And this guy had just returned from a foreign posting. It did not matter; in his mind’s eye, only he existed.
When I say I got where I am by pulling up my bootstraps and through sheer hard work without a godfather, except, of course, God, they do not believe me. When I tell them I had bad bosses, was not promoted for nearly 10 years and yet God has been kind, their retort is, “That was then.”
I am at my wits’ end when dealing with many persons, young and old, who believe that every move is an opportunity. Many years ago, when a certain foreign diplomat told me Nigeria is a deal, not a business, I took offence. He explained that because so many transactions involving Nigeria at simple places like hotels meant that someone had to call you aside and whisper his proposition or tell it to you in an alleyway, Nigeria was a deal in high and low places. The diplomat said, ‘If what you want to tell me is straightforward, why do you need to call me aside?’ Tell me in public with witnesses; that’s how proper businesses are run. I was sad, but most of what he said was true. Clearly, in a lot of instances, Nigeria is a deal, not a business, and I am truly saddened by it.
From airports to offices to shops, etc., there is always that man or woman who can offer you a deal. This includes but is not limited to helping you jump a queue at an airport, assisting you in retrieving your continuously disappearing file in an office, helping you assess your pension benefit, getting you a seat in a crowded space, and accessing the head honcho for you at a corporate entity, all for a fee. This fee ranges from person to person, from a self-appointed fast tracker to a man within the system whose role, well known by the establishment, is to warehouse and deliver unsuspecting individuals for a hefty fee. This also means that the latter is making returns to his/her “Oga at the top”.
By the way, the business of these commercial intermediaries is gender blind. Some of the women are more subtle but no less dangerous. These days, they are upfront and demanding, in some cases asking for pay before service. These intermediaries are well known across Nigeria, and they are holding us all to ransom: governments, individuals, international organisations, etc.
Those who need to be seen before things that are normally done for free are done are people who are on the government payroll, fleecing citizens and visitors alike to get things done. It’s completely insane.
But the newbies are the ones that get my goat more, those padded-up men who are security beef-ups at social events. Those whom the celebrant has paid to secure the venue and prevent “randomites” from gaining entrance. Those red-eyed, well-padded, no-nonsense men and women at event entrances.
They greet you at the door like old friends and exchange inane pleasantries. Aunty Welcome. A wide grin on their faces. How was work today? How was your night? I am already irritated. Good afternoon, ‘welcome’ is enough. How my night was is hardly your business. So I usually deadpan. They let you in, having checked that your access card is authentic. The bad news is, as a guest, you have already been targeted for soliciting. As soon as you emerge from the event to return home after you have fulfilled your obligations to the invitee, the shameless begging begins. Hello, Ma. We are here, oh! Anything for the weekend? Why do you think I owe you anything? I bought Asoebi. I bought gifts for the bride and groom. I spent time. You have been paid heavily for your security services, so I should give you money now as I am leaving. For what? It’s painful to watch Nigeria degenerate into a nation of a set of stupid beggars who grovel for a mess of pottage. Otherwise decent-looking security men and women in full security gear go to the gutter. And across the country, it’s the same story. I have sat and pondered what drives this shamelessness.
The other day, as we made our way out of a high-end part of Abuja, my PA, sitting in front, wound down her glass to adjust the side view mirror for the driver. I was sitting in the back seat. I heard a swish, an unsettling sound. When I looked up, a man with a cutlass had made his way into a nearby bush. My PA let out a delayed yell. Her phone had been snatched. And if her mind had been fully present, she might have struggled. I thought of what could have been as I saw the stocky man’s axe in the air disappear into the Abuja evening. This was at 6.30 pm near the Federal Secretariat. My mind raced. In the end, it was a phone, not her hand, that went with the guy.
Then there was Somtochukwu of Arise TV, jumping to her death in the face of an armed robbery attack. At 65 years of age, we should be telling a different story of Nigeria. A senior citizen of no mean repute.
But let’s pause awhile. Nigeria is not a standalone. Its soil is good. Temperatures are awesome. Food and hospitality are second to none. It’s the people who populate a nation that make it what it is. On its own, Nigeria is an awesome, honest-to-God country with everything going for it. Truly, God has blessed us, and I don’t want to be a citizen of any other country.
But my people? A different conversation. As Nigeria turned 65 years old on October 1st, shall we please rise in salute to a beautiful nation?
The question is, as a citizen, how are you making Nigeria better in your corner? That’s the million-dollar question.
