My neighbour’s friend was in Nigeria for the first time from Cameroun. She was around to procure a visa at the Czech Embassy in Abuja.
It was late in the evening when she arrived at his place in a satellite town in the Federal Capital. After a few minutes in the house she noticed the electricity going off.
“They have taken light”, my neighbour explained casually.
“Who? Why?”
“NEPA, the electricity people. It is always like that.”
“Does that mean we are going to spend the night in darkness?” the guest asked, alarmed.
“We have a generator”, Neighbour said, pointing at a corner of the sitting room. “We’ll soon put it on”.
The guest went over to take a close look at the small generating set. “Does every house have a generator?”
“Most do”, neighbour replied calmly.
That got the guest excited. She dialed a number on her handset as she returned to her seat and was soon gleefully chatting in French, apparently with someone back home in Cameroun.
“We have arrived at the house in Abuja but there is no light in Nigeria!”
The following morning they set out for the embassy in Asokoro. Soon they drove into heavy traffic caused by a checkpoint in Nyanya.
“There are so many police checkpoints. We came across many on the way from Lagos yesterday”.
Neighbour just nodded, although this checkpoint was mounted by soldiers. He could see though that she was impressed by the network of roads and overhead bridges as they drove toward the city. As they crossed into the smart Asokoro District, she could no longer conceal her excitement.
“There are so many beautiful buildings. This city is beautiful”, she exclaimed.
Neighbour explained that it was one of the city’s neighbourhood of the rich.
Then she remembered that she had to print out some documents for the embassy. They drove around but could not find a cybercafé.
“Why are there no cybercafés?” she blurted out finally, perplexed.
“Maybe because every home here has its own internet facility”, Neighbour offered lightly.
On the way back from the embassy, they headed for Neighbour’s office at the Federal Secretariat in the Central Business District. The transaction at the embassy had been easy and smooth so guest and host were in a good mood.
As they drove past, he pointed out the city’s landmarks along their path.
“That is the Force Headquarters of the Police, Louis Edet House.”
“Edet? That is a Calabar name.”
“Yes”, Neighbour replied, impressed that she recognized a name of one of the Nigerian groups closest to Cameroun. “They named the complex after him because he was the first indigenous Inspector-General of the Nigerian Police.”
“Nice buildings everywhere. This city is very beautiful,” she declared, moving her head from side to side as they approached the Federal Secretariat complex.
They drove into the multi-storey car park in Bullet Wing of the complex. They did not find a parking space until the last floor of the park. As soon as the car stopped, she jumped out to gulp an aerial view of the Abuja landscape. Neighbour followed on her heels, identifying the major landmarks as she snapped away with her camera.
“That is the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. That is the Ministry of Finance, the Central Bank…”
“Wow! Look at that rock over there!”
“That is Aso Rock”, Neighbour explained proudly. “It is behind the Presidential Villa, the seat of the government. That rock is the reason why the place is called the Aso Rock Villa.”
“You mean I am standing close to the seat of power?”
“Yes. You can see part of the villa from here, those white structures over there.”
“Oh, I am going to post all these pictures on my wall. I want my friends to see that I am near Nigeria’s seat of power!,” she giggled.
Then she got to see from close range the secretariat. On getting to neighbour’s office block, she said, “Your office is in this gigantic building? You mean we’ll enter there now?
“Yes.”
“How many storeys is the building?”
“Eleven. We’re going to the seventh floor.”
“Does it have staircase or elevator?”
“Both.”
“We don’t have something like this in Cameroun. We cannot afford it. It will destroy our economy!”
As they reached the ground floor of the car park, Neighbour became aware of the sound of the generator. It means there’s no light!
The guest’s heart sank.
“There is no work today? It means we can’t go to your office then?”
“There’s work. We’ll take the staircase.”
“How can you work in government office when there’s no light?”
“Leave us alone,” neighbour chuckled. “That’s why we are Nigerians”!
Halfway up the staircase he could see she was panting. But it did not seem to affect her enthusiasm as she continued to survey all around her like Alice in Wonderland.
“This is very big! And very neat too!!. You mean Nigeria built all these?”
“Yes.”
“So why can’t you provide light if you can build this and all the big, big roads and bridges that I have seen on our way here?”
Neighbour didn’t think she wanted an answer.
But she repeated the question later in the office as some of neighbour’s colleagues gathered to chat with her.
“Our past leaders did not help matters”, one of them volunteered an explanation. “Many of them were 419ners!”
Neighbour’s director laughed ruefully at the explanation. “Does she know what is 419?”
“Yes, of course,” the guest replied smartly. “We watch Nigerian films. They always mention 419 and wayo. They often talk about people stealing government money.”
“Anyway, that will soon become a thing of the past”, Neighbour interjected patriotically. “We now have a God-sent President who is fighting corruption. Haven’t you heard about people refunding money since Buhari came into power?”
“I always saw headlines in your newspapers mentioning billions and billions but I don’t follow the details. If you convert those figures into CFA, you can buy Cameroun!”
Everybody laughed.
Then there was a call to her phone. As she prattled away in French, Neighbour could pick her words.
“Abuja is fine o. Abuja is cute. But the problem is that there is no light in Nigeria!”
When Neighbour interpreted it, the director burst out in laughter.
On their way back home they passed through Asokoro again.
“Tomorrow when we are coming to town, I don’t want us to come in your car. I want us to ride in that thing”, she said pointing at one of the brightly-coloured tricycle taxis.
“Why would you prefer to ride in keke?” neighbour asked, genuinely bemused.
“I love them. You can feel the air and see everywhere around you from inside. They’re fine!”
At Nyanya, neighbour showed her the motor park that has been left in disuse since a bomb planted by Boko Haram killed scores of people there in April of 2014.
“Do you know what Boko Haram is?”
“Of course! The terrorist group. We have them in Cameroun too.”
Apparently, she was aware of the incident.
“So that’s the spot?” she asked with a mixture of curiosity and horror.
Later in the evening, they took a tricycle taxi to the Customs officers’ residential quarters in Karu, a neighbouring community. The pleasantries soon led to an animated discussion on the state of the nation.
“Things are very difficult now”, their host summarized his contribution bristly. “Instead of the government addressing the problem, they say they are fighting corruption. People are suffering.”
The Camerounian visitor who had listened quietly all along decided to join the discussion.
“How can you address economic problems without addressing corruption? Your country is blessed and everyone in Africa envies you. But corruption is your problem. I studied Accountancy and have an ACCA. I can just imagine what this country will be like if you are able to address corruption.”
The host appeared mortified.
On their way back home in a keke taxi, the Camerounian returned to the discussion. “Just imagine what Nigeria can do with all its resources when you have tamed corruption!”
Neighbour just chuckled.