The Voice of a Master Con

It had been more than 15years since we last saw one another.Thanks to the social networking website - Facebook, we got reconnected. We reminisced about the good old days when we were young girls in secondary school and we thought it would be nice to have a reunion. It started as some unserious banter traded back and forth but the idea gradually grew and took on a life of its own.

Somehow, it fell to me to contact as many of our old classmates as I could reach but in the process of doing that, school mates of other classes and graduating years suggested that we expand the scope of the reunion. It seemed daunting but the challenge of actually helping to organize a national reunion of old school mates for the first time in almost 30years was too exciting to pass up!

That was how it started. I made calls, sent text messages, contacted old school mates via Facebook, sent emails, created a Facebook page, a Yahoo!groups mailing list and even a website...phew!
The pace was slow at first but gradually, I started getting some people's attention.

We started constituting the various committees and there were quite a number of volunteers. However, there was one volunteer that stood out. Her name is Juliet O. Her enthusiasm was particularly infectious and because of her, we got increased participation. She shared her experience when she catered for the alumni association of another unity school like ours and how it was so much fun. She offered to cater for us at a very reduced cost and even offered to help get us a venue free of charge.
When the issue of fund raising came up, we asked for suggestions. Most of us agreed that everyone who planned to attend should pay a fee but we would also need to source for funds from several corporate entities as well. Juliet O. rose to the occasion. She informed everyone that she had connections with Indomie, Bournvita, Cowbell etc and that they had sponsored some of her events before. According to her, it would be easy to enlist their support for our worthy cause.

Ah, with all these assurances from Juliet O, our event was well underway. After several weeks of discussing online, we finally made real time contact via conference call. I was going to be hearing the voices of my committee members, some for the first time after over 15years.

And so it was that the call was set-up. It was delightful to have about 60% of the team join in. Juliet O. had to leave her choir practice to join us. The session was quite interactive and Juliet O., her voice turned out to be a bit sing-songy and soft,  even offered her humble home to accommodate invitees coming in from other cities and who could not afford to pay hotel bills for the reunion weekend. We had decided on the date for the reunion and we had only 7months to plan.

After that conference call. Everyone was gingered up. We got even more volunteers and we were able to set up a meeting with one of our seniors, Amina Bello* who had held a reunion in London successfully. Not only would she give us guidance, she was a very important link to other old girls who graduated from the school even before we ourselves enrolled in Primary school. It was important that the reunion covered as many sets as possible so that it would have the kind of credibility we sought.

I was riding on the wave of this excitement when I got a call from Juliet O. a few days after that tele-conference. She called to say she had finally convinced a friend of hers who owns a hotel to give us huge discounts on room rates if we decided to use one of their event halls. We spoke about this for a few minutes when her voice dropped to a mere whisper. I strained to hear her. She was a bit hesitant but she managed to inform me that she was actually calling for personal reasons. She needed me to loan her some money for one catering job she had to carry out that weekend and I could have my money back in like a week. I stopped short. I told her I didn't have that kind of money but I would think about it. I was going to call her back.

I spent the next few hours considering my options. Since Juliet O. was such an important part of our reunion plans it might not be a bad idea to assist her in her time of need. And since she was such a connected caterer/events manager, we really could use her help. Besides, once her event was over, I would get my money back.

That was how I made up my mind to give her an amount close to half of what she asked for and even this was quite a substantial amount of money. I had some disposable cash and some other monies. Suddenly, I was in a hurry to pay the money into her account. It was as though I was in a daze. The deal was transacted and I held the teller slip in my hand. That was when it suddenly hit me. How much do you know this Juliet O? Did you even try to verify  any of her claims? Do you know where she lives? What if she doesn't pay you back like she said?

Suddenly, like a crazed woman, I rushed back into the banking hall.

"Madam, madam, please...!" I was panting, waving the teller slip at the Teller at counter 1.
"I paid the money into the wrong account! Wrong Account!!"
Everyone on the queue just stood there staring at me.

The Teller peered at me from the top of her glasses. I remember thinking to myself, don't they employ young, smart tellers anymore? The woman seemed to be in her mid-forties and this was a new generation bank.

"Ah, madam, I have posted it o! We cannot call it back". She spoke slowly in that irritating, I-don't-care manner.

"Please where is your manager? I want to speak with your Manager...it was the wrong account!" I was frantic. My money was about to get lost! Or even stolen!
The teller reluctantly pointed towards a row of offices on her left and I dashed into the first one on the row..."Your Manager, Please where is your Manager's office?" I blurted. The young man looked up with a concerned look on his face. He half stood up while he directed me to the office three doors from his. I was backing out when I ran into another gentle man. I didn't even look up as I quickly apologised and started walking away.
"Madam wait!" It was the man who had just given me directions. I stopped and there he was at the door of his office holding the upper arm of the man I had just bumped into. "This is the man you want to see". He was smiling. "This is our Branch Manager".

What a relief. The Branch Manager had a kind face and not once did he interrupt me as I tried to explain how I managed to pay such a large sum of money into the wrong account. And not once did he look at me disapprovingly. At the end of my narrative he simply led me to his office, gave me a pen and paper with instructions on what details to provide.

"Don't worry madam, we'll get your money back"

Ah, what a relief!

But that relief was only short lived. Juliet O. was bent on collecting my money and collect it she did!


* Not her real name

Hmmm....Fresh!

I am lifting my face to the virtual wind and breathing deeply..... Hmmm-aaah! Do you hear that? It's that 'whoosh' sound you hear when the wind comes rushing into the room through an open window on a cool, windy evening.

After 2 years, I have once again against all odds come by this blog home of mine. The task was daunting 'cos there were thick swabs of cobwebs everywhere, the dust must have been at least 1mm thick and the smell, oh the smell! That musty and near-dank smell that permeates a room that has neither seen the light of day nor felt the benefits of ventilation.

Ah! But after a few hours of hard work, the open windows can finally let in the cool breeze and this blog can finally have a breath of fresh air! Hmmm. I am basking in it. The freshness and newness of it all. oh, you didn't notice I changed my template and tweaked a few things here and there? Alright, I forgive you. It's not like it's your fault anyway. I was the one who abandoned blogville.

That brings me round to the question, "Is Enkay back for good?". Er, that's a tough one to answer just yet.
But I am so loving the zingy feeling I have got from spending the last few days 'snooping' around blogville and finally getting the courage to open my good old blog-doors, rolling up my sleeves and digging into the work.

I had almost forgotten just how good it felt to be here.

Many, Many thanks to all my Blogfriends who came around to check on me - Olufunke, No Limit, BSNC, Aloted, Original Mgbeke, Rose, even Lady Guide sef!

Thanks for the love!

So let's see how it goes eh?

Nigeria At 50 - Day 13 "Complicated. But....."

Nigeria at 50 - day 12  Flygirl www.flygirlbidiish.blogspot.com

I have always known that my country's issues, challenges and problems are multi-faceted but nothing brought it home to me like my experience at the FRSC (Federal Road Safety Corps) office at Ojodu, Lagos, recently.

The first time I got my drivers' license, it was through my instructor at the driving school I was attending at the time. He told me how much it would cost, I gave him the money and in less than three days, I had my drivers' license. No stress, no hassles.

On my birthday this year, my license expired and I proceeded to go get a renewal.
I had envisaged that the process was probably going to be a very tedious one and I was prepared to go through the rigour. However, the officers I met seemed to have other plans. From the gate, the first officer (Let's call him Officer-1) was quite friendly and he pointed me in the general direction of the license office. He said I needed to check for my name in their database first and if it was not found then I needed to begin the process of requesting for a fresh license since my old one was not the 'original'.

I approached the building I believed 'Officer-1' had directed me to and just to be sure, I approached Officer-2 who sent me right back in the direction from which I had come.
"No, no, no, go to that green building first" he says.
I squint and follow the direction of his outstretched arm and even though I could not see any 'green' building, I set off in that direction. I got to the front of a small building, the green paint on it now almost white and since there was a crowd there, I approached Officer-3,

"Please I would like to renew my license but no body has been able to give me clear directions".

"Oh, okay, follow me" she says and we walk right back towards the direction Officer-1 had initially pointed out only we stopped halfway to stand under a shed where car safety accessories were sold.

Officer-3 punches some numbers on her phone and barks into it,

"Meet me under the shed. Hurry up, a customer is waiting!". In less than five minutes a young man approaches us and Officer-3 says, "Madam please follow him. He will help you". And that was it. Officer-3 walks away and I follow Agent-1 who leads me to a spacious reception office and asks me to relax.

To cut a long story short, Agent-1 does everything for me, after I had paid his quoted amount and hands me a photocopy of my filled-out application form with instructions to return the next day around 1pm to have my photograph taken.

Here's where it begins to get interesting.

I returned the next day and Agent-1 led me to the license office. There was a queue that extended a few yards from the entrance and Agent-1 asked me to stand behind the last person on it. A few minutes later, Boss-1 comes out barking at those of us on the queue.

"What are you people doing here?! Eh?! Where is your tally? What is your number?!"

I quickly deduced that ALL of us on the queue were there illegally. I quietly left the queue so that I would not be embarassed.

"If one of those small boys told you to stand on this queue, you are wasting your time o! They have no power to influence things here! None at all. So please leave this place!".
Boss-1 was still barking even as I walked away in search of Agent-1. 

Agent-1 assured me that there was absolutely no problem and asked me to wait some distance away. He did not tell me how long I was to wait but he promised that it would work out. I began to feel uneasy when I realized that Boss-1 was trying to ensure that things were done properly and orderly. From my vantage position, I watched as licensees were herded from a conference room in a building several yards away to the license office. They all had tally numbers. Apparently, a good number of them had been there as early as 7am and most of them said they'd been waiting for their photographing appointment for several months!

While I sat on a bench pondering my presence there without an appointment, the person sitting next to me tapped my shoulder "Madam, dem dey call you". Agent-1 nodded me towards an officer at the entrance who asked me to hurry inside, along with about eight others, and take a seat. We were the 'shunters'. Boss-1 had gone into his office probably patting himself on the back for being very efficient. Boss-2 was in the lobby 'continuing' with what Boss-1 had started, only this time, Boss-2 was allowing some 'special' licensees to go straight inside to have their photographs taken while the rest of us sat on rows of benches awaiting our turn. But who was I to complain? I was shunting as well!

After about two hours, Boss-1 appears again and since the people on the last row could not produce their tallies, he sent them out and called for a younger officer (Officer-4) to go bring in the last set of licensees from the conference room.
"The last set should be numbers 420 to 445 right?" Boss-1 asks Officer-4. Shaking his head and poring over sheets of papers spread out on a counter at one corner of the room, Officer-4 replies
"Sir, we are still at number 289 sir."
There was an incredulous look on Boss-1's face. "But we were at 275 before I went into my office 2 hours ago!". Officer-4 was staring at his shoes as though he was clueless.
Boss-1 skimmed the faces seated on the benches as though he could somehow point out the shunters. You could see just how frustrated and exasperated he was.
Boss-2 barked "Next!" and then it was my turn to go inside. The time was 5pm.

That day at the FRSC office painted for me a clear picture of just how complicated Nigeria's issues are . Even though someone at the head feels like it is his responsibility to make things work and is indeed doing his best, there are other seemingly inconsequential elements foiling his attempts!
It showed me that even though it takes one man to make a difference, it will take the rest of us to sustain that difference and make it a way of life.
I could have insisted on getting an appointment and refusing to shunt but I didn't and that makes me culpable too. I could stand and point accusing fingers but I must first look inwards and be the change I want to see.

Okay, so it is complicated BUT, it is not all bad.

I got a taste of how efficient and effective the Nigerian Police Force could be and it sparked some hope in me.

I was on my way to work one morning around 5.30am. I needed to pick up a colleague of mine at Estate bus-stop just under the pedestrian bridge. There were many danfo buses struggling  to find a place to park so they could 'shadow' passengers and I knew well enough to drive some meters ahead of them to park. Everything seemed clear and so I turned into a space just after the bridge where BRT buses would normally exit the bus-stop. Just as I was clearing off the road there was a huge "Gboa!". A danfo bus had rammed into my side towards the rear on the passenger's side, taking my tail lights with it as it sped off. Everything happened so suddenly that I didn't know just how to react. I came out of the car and several by-standers yelled at me "Madam! You no go pursue am?!"
Pursue who? To where?
The damage was bad and when I saw that my tail lights were gone, I just started crying. I felt helpless. Not only were my tail lights expensive, it was the third time I was being bashed in the last 6months!

Suddenly bright lights flooded the area and sirens came on. It was the RRS team parked a short distance away. "Madam, please clear well." one of the officers said to me as they jumped into their vehicle.
They had seen the whole thing  and apparently, the danfo driver was  trying to run away after being accosted by one of the officers for double parking. I just happened to be turning in at precisely that same time.

About  40minutes later, the RRS team returned and one of the officers brought the danfo driver to me holding him by the collar. I almost laughed in relief. The officer advised me to take the case to the nearest police station if I felt we could not come to a suitable agreement. They handed me the documents for the danfo which they had collected from the driver just in case he was planning to run away.
I was amazed at how professional the police men were acting. I was still trying to calculate how much 'egunje' I would have to part with but they simply nodded when I thanked them for their help, turned around, got into their vehicle and drove away. Maybe to go help another citizen.

I felt so pleased that I was lenient with the crazy driver making him pay for the body work of the car while I took care of the tail lights.
That was the first time I got the chance to see the NPF in another light - better light and I kept thinking, there is still HOPE!
It is possible for things to change in Naija. Not all the apples in this basket are rotten!



To view the next in these series please visit -

 Nigeria at 50 - day 14 LamikayTy www.lamikayty.com