By I’M hot! Damn hot! I’m going deaf, almost deaf, from the competitive noise emitted by power generating sets. From left, right, front, back and centre, the atmosphere is stuffy, disrupted by howling noise in a nation blessed with stupendous oil and gas deposits. The heat making me uncomfortable stems from the lack of power supply and the adverse effects of climate change, worsened by illegal felling of trees and other anti-nature human activities.
President Bola Tinubu
Nigeria is under the grip of mindless leaders and thoughtless followers. They are the same in thoughts, wishes and actions. The followers love their chains, and the leaders oil their subjugation prowess. From Ibadan to Warri, it is all hot and hellish — a somewhat bedlam of a society that has refused to evolve since independence.
In Ibadan, IBEDC initiates darkness and heat over hapless residents, in spite of the Minister of Power hailing from the city. The seeming megalomaniac appears much more interested in becoming governor of the state he has been unable to light up with electricity. He was quoted recently begging Nigerians to take it easy with him, promising to restore power in two weeks. Yes, fellow Nigerians, wait for another two weeks to breathe and live!
In Warri and environs, BEDC has simply gone berserk! It’s 30 minutes light in 72 hours. Yes! It has gone that bad especially at Ginuwa area of Warri-Sapele road in Warri South Local Government Area of Delta State. The oil-rich state is blessed with plenty gas deposit. The noise from generating sets is clangorous. What a paradox! The heat is killing. All cold rooms are in comatose! Hike in fuel price hampers even the powering of the noisy generating sets.
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Heat! Darkness! Noise! These are the lot of Nigerians today. The heat is everywhere — in every sector; in churches; in the streets; on our roads; in banking halls; and in corporate offices. The heat of desperation and the undying pastime of extorting fellow Nigerians by fellow Nigerians — law enforcement agents, and just about everybody.
I woke up this morning to find my MTN line misbehaving. No network. No sign that there was a SIM in my phone. I tried it on other phones — same result. It was my major line. The MTN office is near me at Ginuwa Junction in Warri. I headed there, despite my reservations due to the hordes of people I usually see while passing by. Nevertheless, I went.
A smiling lady, whom the security men on duty asked me to approach, tested the SIM in her phone. Same result — no network. She requested my NIN. I rushed back to bring it. I was registered, told I would cough up N2,000, and then asked to sit somewhere for my turn. But almost immediately, we were told there was no network. What kind of network is unavailable in the office of a network provider itself? Ko ye mi rara.
I took my seat, waiting for Godot. One hour passed. Two hours passed. It was getting to 12 noon from about 9:30 a.m. when I arrived. I went back to the lady to find out how we would know if the network was restored. This was because, except for a tall fair guy in the second cubicle on the right from the entrance and a dark guy at the last cubicle, other cubicles were nearly empty — a sign that the network had really taken flight.
So, I moved to sit in front of the fair guy, who had been busy attending to customers. At a point, I became confused. When and how would I return to get my SIM swapped? Or was there an underhand means of getting the network to serve my purpose?
As curiosity took a toll on me amid surreptitious movements by people in and out, with the hall gradually becoming empty — leaving only an elderly couple, with the husband having sight issues — the fair MTN official beckoned to me and asked what the problem was.
Within a few minutes, he collected my contacts, registered them on his customised tablet, took a photograph of me, and gave me a new SIM for a token of N2,000. He then asked me to insert the SIM at 6:00 p.m. for activation.
I was perplexed. So, what network were they complaining about? I wanted to ask the official what actually went wrong, what network issues they had been bandying around, and how he got my problem solved so seamlessly. But I let it go and simply decided to walk away. Not all fights are worth fighting.
This is one of the furnaces heating up Nigerians in their own land. My landlady, whom I met while returning from the MTN office past noon, gave me the gist of what actually transpired. According to her, I was too ignorant of how the system works. She said a tip of, say, N1,000 or N500 to any of the officials — including the security men — would have changed the game.
My, oh my! Can I ever get accustomed to this corrupt system?
With this revelation, reflecting on what transpired while I sat ignorantly corroborated what my landlady told me. Those people I saw being attended to, even though they came after me; those movements from one seat to another; those hushed tones here and there; those sudden disappearances and reappearances of some clients and MTN officials — all were meant to generate the heat of corruption and line the pockets of individuals at the MTN office.
EFCC-operatives
I agree with those who keep saying Nigeria is a crime scene. It is, indeed. All of us — none exempted — are criminals one way or another. Oil marketers inflate pump prices with immediate alacrity at the slightest hike in crude oil prices at the international market. But do you get value for your money when you buy a litre of fuel at their gas stations?
Policemen have increased the tempo of extortion on Nigerian roads with reckless abandon. Who cares? FRSC officials have also upped their game — they now chase ₦500 notes from motorists rather than remove obstacles from our highways.
Nigeria is sick. The systems are sick. The leadership is sick. The followers are bedridden. We are all sick and not yet ready to change the narrative. Who will bell the cat?
If this heat continues, who will survive the next one year?
Ebenezer Adurokiya, a journalist, culture enthusiast and passionate ideologue, writes from Warri, Delta State.
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