There are times when being exact gets you in big trouble, I mean, unforgettable trouble. Let me explain this way; you are going from Costain to Oyingbo and the bus fare to and fro is N60. In order to ensure that you are financially discipline, you take exactly N60, or let’s say N100. Sure, you can get into big trouble.
That was my lot in the month of July 2013. I saved seventy percent of my salary with friends that invested it in their businesses, ten percent to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and the remaining twenty percent for my upkeep. Hummmmm? You say.
Yes. My second year as a master’s student of the University of Lagos was fast approaching and I needed to assemble 0.16million Naria, having paid 0.2 million Naira the first year. I also had to assemble money for accommodation since the Nigerian Army seemed to be ‘waiting for godot’. For me, God’s will be done.
I got a call from my brother who spoke about a woman with BIS and the fact that they needed Literature in English teacher who had or was on his master’s degree. My elder brother sent me her number and indeed, I was disinterested. I checked my pocket, had about 1,200N left. I took a deep breath. It is worth the stress. I recharge 300N since the woman was using Etisalat. It will be bad to apologise to a business acquaintance that your credit got exhausted. It isn’t professional.
I dialled her number to book an appointment- 12noon on Saturday (the following day) was agreed. Humm. I called my Aduni to reassure her of my undying love for her, despite neither sending credit to her phone nor bank account. What sort of fiance am I?
Anyway, I did all the sweet talking from my heart because indeed she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I left my school at about 4pm with a colleague. Well, let me say a brother, ‘cause he is more than a colleague and I’m proud of him any day. I spent another 200N on transportation, having a whooping 700Naira left.
I was to get to Badore to see a friend for something quite urgent- no, not romance, but finance. Please don’t think that. Romance is not the only urgent thing. But lord have mercy when I’m on fire. My Aduni can tell.
Badoreing cost me another 250Naira and I was left 450N. Got back to the room filled with hunger and a dangerous joy- the joy that kills. I ate the left-over in the pot and was in bed.
I woke up the following day with doubt but glory to God. I concluded that the appointment with the BIS woman will be for my friend who was teaching in faraway Taraba. I called him to convince him to come for the interview on Tuesday, but like Thomas, he wasn’t ready to leave certainty for uncertainty. He said, he would think about it. I checked the internet for the school, their structure and curricula. It is affiliated to several UK and Canadian Universities. Let me write the interview for my friend. I can’t jump out of my school for now. My curriculum vitae will be too terrible to look at. Working for 8months with the first school; another for four months; having taught in twelve different schools in just nine years of my teaching profession. Terrible you say, yeah, pretty terrible. No sack letter, just one query in nine years. Whaoo!
It was 12:37pm already and I apologised to the woman and fixed another for 7pm. I studied a little and was dressed by 4pm. I got to Lekki phrase one at exactly 6:02pm. I strolled around the Estate and was determined to bet that it was incomparably better than VGC, not until I saw the other side. I gave the woman a call and she affirmed that she would be around at 7:00pm only to be present at 7:05pm.
It was a long and unending discussion but the most important aspect was the remuneration. She said I should expect about 170, 000N to 200, 000N. That was after I lied that I collect 120, 000N from where I currently serve. She promised that the school will send me abroad for further training. I equally lied that my longest duration with a school during my years of teaching was a year and half, when it is actually just one year, that is, if up to that.
I imagined what had made me lie conveniently and convincingly. I was very sure something was wrong. Yes, I hadn’t ejaculated for over four months except for wet dream and had being faithfully avoiding more serious and better interestingly rewarding iniquities.
After the discourse, I moved away from her second new Jeep and walked towards Mainstreet bank and then to the gate. So fortunate was I, there was no on-coming vehicle and I crossed the express road in a hurry.
All of a sudden, I heard, ‘you are under arrest, don’t move, and don’t talk.’ What? That was when I realized that a pedestrian bridge was just right ahead of me. I got confused. I didn’t ask for my crime, of course I knew. I was placed in the vehicle like a criminal.
‘Please! E! I! Humm! Sorry! I’m a graduate, this is my first time here. Please, Jesus, I’m from Osun State. I didn’t know. I swear to God. Anything. Ha! Ye! I have just 210N on me. I live at Langbasa. Ha! Please don’t drive the vehicle, mo gbe,’ I kept talking.
I remembered my day at Jalingo prison, not as an inmate, but a motivational speaker. I remembered how the people cried loud when I asked them if they knew the word vengeance. I begged them to let go, that was then, because vengeance is of God. I remembered how a prison warden, hit a sick old man with robust baton. How the inmates fought with the last drop of their blood over who gets water first. The water wasn’t sufficient and if you don’t fight dirty, you don’t get water to drink. Everyone must fight dirty, including the prison pastor and Imam. The punches, the hammering of metal bucket on someone’s face, the dragging of the defeated on the graved round the prison premises, breaking of bone that calls for no better medical attention but Paracetamol, among other. I resumed my necessary but senseless speech. I won’t survive prison.
‘Broz please, I’m from Osun State, from Ori-Ade Local Government Area. I’m from Ijebu-jesa town. Please! Ha! Ok take my phone, but I will remove my sim and memory cards. E jo! Ha! This is my degree certificate that I snapped on my phone. I’m an English teacher.’
The man was like 007, unmovable. I imagined myself, a good Nigerian giving bribe. Will I rather be imprisoned for being greedy-‘not wanting to shake body’ than give my phone.
The crime any security man arrests you for is not the basic, the cell is jam-packed already. I will only be a burden, but if I don’t give something, they will put me there and I will be on awaiting trial for years if not decades. And if anyone is ready to agree to bail me, bail is free but they have to pay for utilities- and that is about 20, 000N per month. The DPO must get his share.
He asked me if I had any cash on me, even 500N. I answered the negative. Then I knew that money was more important to these myopic set of uncivilized fools in uniform. Of course I didn’t say that out.
Immediate, my phone became his with no receipt, nor document. Officer! Hummm. If only I had just N500 or N200 on me, those cheap demons dressed in black wouldn’t have taken my phone. Being exact can be a minus ooo. Please take more cash.
Just a story
ONI AFOLABI AJIBOLA www.afolabioni.blogspot.com
08036126690, oniafolabiajibola@yahoo.com
28/July/2013, 7:25pm
Monday, July 29, 2013
Being Exact
There are times when being exact gets you in big trouble, I mean, unforgettable trouble. Let me explain this way; you are going from Costain to Oyingbo and the bus fare to and fro is N60. In order to ensure that you are financially discipline, you take exactly N60, or let’s say N100. Sure, you can get into big trouble.
That was my lot in the month of July 2013. I saved seventy percent of my salary with friends that invested it in their businesses, ten percent to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and the remaining twenty percent for my upkeep. Hummmmm? You say.
Yes. My second year as a master’s student of the University of Lagos was fast approaching and I needed to assemble 0.16million Naria, having paid 0.2 million Naira the first year. I also had to assemble money for accommodation since the Nigerian Army seemed to be ‘waiting for godot’. For me, God’s will be done.
I got a call from my brother who spoke about a woman with BIS and the fact that they needed Literature in English teacher who had or was on his master’s degree. My elder brother sent me her number and indeed, I was disinterested. I checked my pocket, had about 1,200N left. I took a deep breath. It is worth the stress. I recharge 300N since the woman was using Etisalat. It will be bad to apologise to a business acquaintance that your credit got exhausted. It isn’t professional.
I dialled her number to book an appointment- 12noon on Saturday (the following day) was agreed. Humm. I called my Aduni to reassure her of my undying love for her, despite neither sending credit to her phone nor bank account. What sort of fiance am I?
Anyway, I did all the sweet talking from my heart because indeed she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I left my school at about 4pm with a colleague. Well, let me say a brother, ‘cause he is more than a colleague and I’m proud of him any day. I spent another 200N on transportation, having a whooping 700Naira left.
I was to get to Badore to see a friend for something quite urgent- no, not romance, but finance. Please don’t think that. Romance is not the only urgent thing. But lord have mercy when I’m on fire. My Aduni can tell.
Badoreing cost me another 250Naira and I was left 450N. Got back to the room filled with hunger and a dangerous joy- the joy that kills. I ate the left-over in the pot and was in bed.
I woke up the following day with doubt but glory to God. I concluded that the appointment with the BIS woman will be for my friend who was teaching in faraway Taraba. I called him to convince him to come for the interview on Tuesday, but like Thomas, he wasn’t ready to leave certainty for uncertainty. He said, he would think about it. I checked the internet for the school, their structure and curricula. It is affiliated to several UK and Canadian Universities. Let me write the interview for my friend. I can’t jump out of my school for now. My curriculum vitae will be too terrible to look at. Working for 8months with the first school; another for four months; having taught in twelve different schools in just nine years of my teaching profession. Terrible you say, yeah, pretty terrible. No sack letter, just one query in nine years. Whaoo!
It was 12:37pm already and I apologised to the woman and fixed another for 7pm. I studied a little and was dressed by 4pm. I got to Lekki phrase one at exactly 6:02pm. I strolled around the Estate and was determined to bet that it was incomparably better than VGC, not until I saw the other side. I gave the woman a call and she affirmed that she would be around at 7:00pm only to be present at 7:05pm.
It was a long and unending discussion but the most important aspect was the remuneration. She said I should expect about 170, 000N to 200, 000N. That was after I lied that I collect 120, 000N from where I currently serve. She promised that the school will send me abroad for further training. I equally lied that my longest duration with a school during my years of teaching was a year and half, when it is actually just one year, that is, if up to that.
I imagined what had made me lie conveniently and convincingly. I was very sure something was wrong. Yes, I hadn’t ejaculated for over four months except for wet dream and had being faithfully avoiding more serious and better interestingly rewarding iniquities.
After the discourse, I moved away from her second new Jeep and walked towards Mainstreet bank and then to the gate. So fortunate was I, there was no on-coming vehicle and I crossed the express road in a hurry.
All of a sudden, I heard, ‘you are under arrest, don’t move, and don’t talk.’ What? That was when I realized that a pedestrian bridge was just right ahead of me. I got confused. I didn’t ask for my crime, of course I knew. I was placed in the vehicle like a criminal.
‘Please! E! I! Humm! Sorry! I’m a graduate, this is my first time here. Please, Jesus, I’m from Osun State. I didn’t know. I swear to God. Anything. Ha! Ye! I have just 210N on me. I live at Langbasa. Ha! Please don’t drive the vehicle, mo gbe,’ I kept talking.
I remembered my day at Jalingo prison, not as an inmate, but a motivational speaker. I remembered how the people cried loud when I asked them if they knew the word vengeance. I begged them to let go, that was then, because vengeance is of God. I remembered how a prison warden, hit a sick old man with robust baton. How the inmates fought with the last drop of their blood over who gets water first. The water wasn’t sufficient and if you don’t fight dirty, you don’t get water to drink. Everyone must fight dirty, including the prison pastor and Imam. The punches, the hammering of metal bucket on someone’s face, the dragging of the defeated on the graved round the prison premises, breaking of bone that calls for no better medical attention but Paracetamol, among other. I resumed my necessary but senseless speech. I won’t survive prison.
‘Broz please, I’m from Osun State, from Ori-Ade Local Government Area. I’m from Ijebu-jesa town. Please! Ha! Ok take my phone, but I will remove my sim and memory cards. E jo! Ha! This is my degree certificate that I snapped on my phone. I’m an English teacher.’
The man was like 007, unmovable. I imagined myself, a good Nigerian giving bribe. Will I rather be imprisoned for being greedy-‘not wanting to shake body’ than give my phone.
The crime any security man arrests you for is not the basic, the cell is jam-packed already. I will only be a burden, but if I don’t give something, they will put me there and I will be on awaiting trial for years if not decades. And if anyone is ready to agree to bail me, bail is free but they have to pay for utilities- and that is about 20, 000N per month. The DPO must get his share.
He asked me if I had any cash on me, even 500N. I answered the negative. Then I knew that money was more important to these myopic set of uncivilized fools in uniform. Of course I didn’t say that out.
Immediate, my phone became his with no receipt, nor document. Officer! Hummm. If only I had just N500 or N200 on me, those cheap demons dressed in black wouldn’t have taken my phone. Being exact can be a minus ooo. Please take more cash.
Just a story
ONI AFOLABI AJIBOLA www.afolabioni.blogspot.com
08036126690, oniafolabiajibola@yahoo.com
28/July/2013, 7:25pm
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