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If you grew up with Nigerian parents, then chances are your parents held down a minimum of two jobs to make sure you had Christmas clothes and a shiny new bag to start the new term with.
Speaking life to this phenomenon was this tweet that had more than a few people revealing the different roles their parents engaged in to provide for their respective families:
I have a challenge to younger people. What was it your parents had to do to get extra income to support the family? Can you turn that into a viable business?
My mother was an accomplished educator and school Principal trained abroad but she woke up to make moin moin to sell.
It got a number of responses, like the lawyer that moonlit as a clothier.
My mom was a lawyer but she had a sewing outfit in the back where she made women’s clothes. One time when one of my dad’s companies crumbled it was that business that kept us all fed and in school.
And the clinician with the design outfit and restaurant.
This thread is gold. My mom ran a clinic, owned a fashion design outfit and a restaurant at different times. She was the quintessential entrepreneur/hustler. She built a house before my dad and harassed him to complete his. 😊
Jumping on the bandwagon, we asked six people what kind of side-jobs their parents engaged in while holding down full time jobs. Here were their responses:
Public Servants/ Supply Shop Owners.
Both my parents served as public servants Monday through Fridays. Their schedule saw them in their respective offices by day, and manning their supply shop, situated not too far from our home in the evenings. Because of their perennial fear that they were being stolen from by their shop assistants, they spent more time than was necessary making sure their daily sales and books were in order. We always counted this as their third job. Even now, retired and surviving on their infrequent pensions, they still have that shop, and every so often stop to make sure everything is in order.
–Ayobami
Doctor/Chemist Owner.
My father is a respectable doctor, with a career spanning 27 years. He has risen through the ranks to become a consultant, this however didn’t stop him from running a small chemist/first aid/informal consultancy not too far from a little way off from our home. He was always shuffling from rounds to the chemist and back again. More often than not, he was extremely beat by the time he got home to get a little rest. Funny how it never occured to me that he was juggling two jobs at the time, one just seemed like an extension of the other, a reasonable segue really.
–Chidozie
Teacher/After-Class Tutor/Cook.
My mother is the OG hustler. Despite holding it down as a primary school teacher, she stayed behind to teach after-school classes, made take away lunches every morning to sell to other teachers and had a thriving aso-oke business back in the day.
If there was anything I picked from her holding down so many jobs, it was the being enterprising every chance I got. I currently own my own clothing store on Instagram, provide make-up services over the weekend and even weekdays whenever I can slip a free day or two from my 9-5.
–Gina
Moin-moin/Ogi Merchant/Party Cooks.
When I was little, my mother was the moin-moin plug on our street. She supported this business with an equally thriving enterprise in Ogi. She didn’t stop there, she also ran a successful Alase (party cook) business that saw her out of the house just about every other weekend and weekdays in particularly good months. She has slowed down considerably these days, but I’m going to have to burn down every banana leaf in the world before she stops selling moin-moin. I love that woman.
–Ayoka
Federal Government Workers/Fabric Importers.
My parents worked in federal government establishments – Nigeria Airways and NITEL. Concurrently, they set up a joint Guinea fabric importation business and a printing press to supplement the income for their growing family. Every day I thank the heavens for their enterprising spirits, as they had substantially lucrative businesses to fall back on when both companies fell apart.
–Aminatu
Hospitality/Salesman/Nurse/Babysitter.
My parents met in the hospitality business. They catered for the kitchens of some of the biggest hotels in Nigeria, causing us to switch states more than once. Eventually, they left the country in search of better opportunities abroad. That change forged an enterprising spirit that wasn’t exactly necessary in Nigeria. While my mother was a nurse taking mostly night shifts, she supplanted that with caring for an elderly man three times a week and baby sitting every other day.
My father did it all – door-to-door salesman, car wash attendant, handyman etc. It was all eventually worth it, as they were able to save up their joint earnings to start a thriving Bed and Breakfast in Florida, finally letting go of all their side jobs.
In my truest form, I am a militant, bandana wielding, Fela face-tat having, protest-line leading fighter of the fucked up Nigerian system. No political authority is too powerful, no public servant too untouchable and no worthy cause is too minor to go unrepresented.
Your boss attempting to make you work overtime without pay? I’m getting my megaphone. Lecturers insisting on an idiotic pass-fail rate for students? I’ll round up the troops. Streetlights and basic amenities unavailable in your locale? I’m starting a worthy petition.If there’s any country that could do with a healthy dose of protests, it’s Nigeria. Hourly, daily, weekly, yearly, until some high-up’s agbada is soaked through with sweat from skirting around to meet our demands. And know who would be leading the charge? Yours truly.
In reality however, I am only a casual observer of the Nigerian institution. Voicing my disappointment and disgust behind the safety of a television screen or crafting carefully chosen words from my mobile phone, hardly daring to spell out even the slightest of criticisms for fear of facing the same fate as those too vocal against, too critical of, too anything but sycophant towards the Nigerian government.As it currently stands, the Nigerian government has forgone its raison d’etre – the people, to become an all powerful agent, accountable primarily to itself. Magicking a turn-table, it has found a way to make itself a top, with the people being unwilling subs. The secret of its abilities? Good old suppression.
How do you prevent the people from gathering to speak against the shortcomings of your administration? Resorting to physical violence like firing live rounds on student protesters speaking against the arrest and detainment of El Zakzaky, or dispersing peaceful protesters of the BBOG movement with teargas to prevent their gathering — seems to work just fine for the Nigerian government.
As it appears, only certain kinds of protests are favoured by the powers that be — those pliant and paid for.
Which is why the government has other measures in place to make sure the proles don’t deviate too far from the script.Ever heard of the Cybercrime (Prohibition & Protection) Act 2015? You might want to check it out if you haven’t. This law, whose original purpose is cloaked in the “prohibition, prevention, detection and punishment of cyber crimes”, actually operates as a snare for intending and active critics of the government.
Its frightfully vague provisions impose a prison term of 3 months or a fine of up to ₦7 million to anyone causing: annoyance, inconvenience, danger, obstruction, insult, injury, criminal intimidation, enmity, hatred, ill will or needless anxiety to another.
‘Another’ here being mostly higher-ups in power .Which is why arrests based on instances of government criticism on forums like Facebook, Instagram and even Whatsapp, as are becoming more and more common place in the Nigerian political landscape.
Take the case of Johnson Musa for instance. For posting pictures of Kogi State Governor- Yahaya Bello’s Abuja residence on a Whatsapp group, he was arrested by members of the SSS. Likewise, John Danfulani, whose Facebook post criticising the Kaduna State government landed him 13 days behind bars.
Even more ludicrous is the case of Joe Chinakwe, who, after taking out the frustrations of the current administration on his canine who he personified as he-who-must-not-be-apparently named, found himself serving considerable jail time. Same with Gambo Saeed, who was awarded 9 months in prison for his efforts in calling out Aminu Masari, the Katsina state Governor on social media. Likewise Audu Makori, who, having posted a false claim that Southern Kaduna students had met their ends at the hands of Fulani herdsmen (a statement which was retracted), suffered through a lengthy detainment by the government.
These gagging measures adopted by the government, devious as they are, have proven to be effective. Which is why silence greets a country where the president takes an unscheduled medical leave abroad for 103 days, while hospitals in his home country are relegated to incessant strikes and the use of mobile phones as a light source during major surgeries. Also explains why Computer departments in the country’s universities teach Fortran in its original form – in 2019 and why members of its Senate can go home with 13 million as their monthly salary, while 61% of Nigerians live on less than $1 a day.
Contrast this with countries like Algeria, where mass protests against their ailing 81 year old president – Abdelaziz Bouteflika, prompted his decision to desist from contesting his fifth term of presidency, despite being severely ill and confined to a wheelchair since 2013. Or the gilets jaunes or Yellow Vests’ protests in Paris which successfully led to the cancellation of proposed plans by the French government to hike fuel tax rates. Even Nicaragua — whose militant youth is currently in the process of effecting a change from authoritarian leadership through incessant protests and objections to the oppressive leadership of its President – Daniel Ortega.
Protests are effective catalysts for change, Nigeria being no exception to the fact. The protests that crippled activities and forced the reduction of Nigerian fuel prices in 2002 being a notable example. It is also why the government is doing the most to threaten the strength in our numbers.
A threat certain Nigerians like Deji Adeyanju, Oby Ezekwesili and Dr Joe Odumakin are defying for the greater good.
Even though your name and mine may be missing from this list, it’s not too late to add our voices and play a role in holding Nigeria’s leader’s accountable.
For me, it’s no longer enough to mumble my best Yoruba curses behind my phone like I previously admitted, it’s time to act. Hopefully, you’re feeling the same way too, don’t let the man win.
On March 24th, Abdullahi Ganduje was declared the winner of the Kano State supplementary elections – you know, the elections that had to happen because the March 9th polls were declared inconclusive after Ganduje appeared likely to lose.
Anyway, while congratulatory bags stuffed with money are in order for the Governor, we’re looking beyond the victory to all the things we can learn from this incredibly hard to believe feat:
It doesn’t matter how unpopular you are, you only need 2 weeks to make thousands of people change their minds:
In the original governorship elections, Ganduje appeared to be headed for a certain loss with a 27 000 margin against the PDP’s Abba Kyari. And that was with one major polling unit unaccounted for.
The loss was so sure, his Deputy got arrested for attempting to em… sway votes in their favour.
That’s all irrelevant now however, as that gap was corrected, with 1,033,695 million picking Ganduje over the less tainted Kabir Yusuf, who won a close 1,024,713 votes.
There’s nothing like a looming election loss to get you to do your job.
Doubt this?
Well how else would you explain Ganduje’s scrambling to fix all the wrongs in the Nasarawa polling unit, a major decider for victory in Kano state.
Our guy attempted to carry out 3 major projects : refuse evacuation, mass drilling of boreholes and the re-construction of roads about a week to the supplementary elections. Good thing he won though, he definitely has an incentive to finish these projects he started probably solely to sway votes in his favour — oh wait…
Don’t sweat the small stuff like multiple arrests and widespread violence during elections.
Voter attacks and routine disenfranchisement are just a small price to pay for the democracy practised in Kano state it would appear.
Don’t let the fact that at least 10 people were arrested and widespread violence assailed the supplementary elections should definitely not distract you from the fact that Ganduje won his elections (with a pending corruption charge on his back).
Now, in addition to our takeaways, we have just one question and it’s directed to the people directly responsible for Ganduje’s victory — is everything alright at home?
Does re-electing a Governor that gave us 5 reasons — ON VIDEO — to not re-elect him seem like a wise idea?
How do you rationalise re-electing someone whose Deputy had to be placed at the back of a police car to stop him from tampering with already cast votes?
When you’re done answering that, twenty marks to whoever can explain how an election that literally had to be suspended because there was so much violence and rigging on display, was eventually declared largely peaceful?
None of it makes sense, so I’ll be over here contemplating the requirements for a Schengen visa.
Nollywood caters to just about every entertainment need. Have a kinky wicked mother-in-law fetish? They have you immensely covered. Want to take your Beyonce and Rihanna fangirling to the next level? There’s a movie with professional actresses cosplaying them, just for your viewing pleasure.
Honestly, think up any scenario — any scenario at all — the more ludicrous the better, and I bet you Nollywood has some type of movie for it.
Which is why, for the life of me, I can’t understand why the industry has taken to ignoring the never-ending well of content that is the Nigerian political scene.
Forget giving us the sixth installment of Blackberry babes where they finally pivot to iPhones — where are the reality shows/movies showing us overly dramatised renditions of news that made Nigerian headlines?
Clearly, this under-representation is an oversight on Nollywood’s part. However, I can no longer sit by while this injustice continues.
The entertainment of Nigerians is of the utmost importance to me, so to speed things up, here’s a list of Nigerian political events, complete with working titles that need to be adapted for our screens, tout suite:
Salisu Buhari: The Art of The Scam.
Why isn’t there a movie on Salisu Buhari — Nigeria’s first post-democratic Speaker of the House of Representatives, who scammed his way into said position with a fake age and degree from the University of Toronto, only to get found out and resign out of shame — on every single hard drive I own, so this treasure is never lost?
I’d also strongly recommend a very dedicated cast for this film. It’s going to take a lot to professionalism to shoot around a zappa beard and not laugh every 5 minutes while filming.
Umar Dikko: Unkidnappable.
The fact that Nigerians have been denied a chance to see Mr Ibu play the Nigerian diplomat who ran across the British airport tarmac to avoid trouble when Umar Dikko was discovered in a crate, is an injustice that simply cannot continue.
We need this movie, and fast.
The Real Senator of Kogi West.
This reality show will follow the man, the myth, the legend – Dino Melaye, and only him around.
I strongly suggest that no other cast member be recruited, simply because I have a running theory that Dino Melaye can make the most mundane things entertaining, all by himself.
Drinking water, driving around, updating his Instagram stories. It’ll be a hit. I can stake my PVC on that.
Alternatively, a fact-finding documentary on just what happened the day Dino Melaye went missing and had to hide in a tree from kidnappers.
Anger Management: The Chidi Lloyd Story.
I need a 360° angle shot of Honourable Chidi Lloyd, former majority leader of the Rivers House of Assembly, breaking fellow lawmaker – Michael Chinda’s head with the revered mace, and I need it yesterday!
A dramatic rendering of the events the led up to this embarrassing moment in Nigeria’s political history has been moved from ‘Want’ status to ‘Need’ by the Nigerian populace. They told me so themselves.
Obasanjo’s Storm In A Teacup.
A little something for fans of paranormal thrillers.
Now, this may or may not have happened, but who wouldn’t want to see a movie about two-time Nigerian president – Olusegun Obasanjo dodging poisoned teas through spiritually detaching tea cup bottoms?
Take all of my money!!!
Who Stole The Mace? Part 1 and 2
Part one will be a fast-paced thriller trying to uncover the events that led to the whole golden mace of Nigeria’s senate getting stolen, only to be discovered, tossed to the side of the road like yesterday’s puff-puff wrapper.
Part 2 will be ironically named, as it will trail the known Anambra House of Assembly mace mugger — Rita Maduwagu, the former speaker of the Anambra State of House of Assembly who, attempting to avoid impeachment ran away with the mace, like any self-respecting adult would. Obviously.
That there isn’t a movie about this already, is currently keeping me up at night, fix up Nollywood.
Hollywood has taken the number one spot in the entertainment industry for one too many years now. It is time for the rise of Nollywood, and what better way to be taken seriously than to make adaptations of one of the most serious social phenomenon there is – politics, using this free of charge list.
(Somebody better run us our coin if these movies end up showing at the cinema, however)
As a recently involuntarily retired teen (ignore what my birth certificate says), it pains me to no end that my excitable parents refused to wait a year or ten before deciding they needed an extra bundle of joy in 1993.
This is because teens of nowadays, those lucky bastards that didn’t have to suffer the indignities of triple-tapping their phones in the middle of Economics class to produce one letter, or having to wait a turn on the family computer, only spend 30 minutes on the WorldWideWeb before getting bounced — well, they’re living the life us geriatrics were very rudely deprived of.
My fellow oldies might be unaware of just how well these guys have it, so I decided to do the Lord’s work and put my jealousy on display. For your viewing pleasure and disdain, here’s a list of all the ways Nigerian teenagers have it so much better than their older forebears:
This isn’t a Nigerian home staple anymore.
Teenagers are getting punished with time-outs and rational discussions on the consequences of their actions. If I wasn’t so impressed with the emotional progress Nigerian parents are making, I would throw arms with whoever didn’t think to educate Nigerian parents in the early aughts, on the goodness of being rational.
They don’t need lesson teachers anymore.
While I had to grapple with the fact that three times a week, my relaxed afternoons of K-Time and Mr Biggs ads would be ruined with the appearance of my perpetually upset lesson teacher, these children don’t necessarily have to go through the same injustice.
Why? Because they have Google and Alexa to ask questions, just look at this child:
Together with step by step Youtube tutorials on everything from Pythagoras Theorem to how to get the perfect woodwork boxes. Where were these tools when I was paying a carpenter to do my intro-tech assignments?
They can check their JAMB score in peace.
Do these children know how good they have it? They won’t have to hide their shame when the cyber-cafe attendant shouts their double digit JAMB score in a crowded room, just imagine.
Now, they can battle with their God and the HB pencil they blessed at mass, in the comfort of their bedrooms when checking their scores.
Must be nice.
Many of these children didn’t get the bicep cardio that came with rewinding video-tapes and it shows.
These days they have Netflix and Hulu to keep them company. I’m not salty, you are.
They probably don’t know what Starcomms is.
Can you imagine a world where you don’t have to wait till 6pm Saturdays and Sundays to give your friends all the gist you’ll repeat on Monday morning anyway?
You don’t have to think too far, these bratty teens with their Whatsapp and their Google Docs give each other head-prefects gist in real time, what is this life?
They don’t know why this was absolutely necessary:
While the game of yesteryear needed a little spittle to get things going, these lucky children don’t even need cartridges, CDs and now even game consoles to get their game fixes. If there’s any justice in the world, us older adults have been severally denied it.
Ask them what this is, and they’ll probably say an illuminated lime or something just as rude.
A whole Patron Saint of the young Nigerian pirate. Our most reliable fix to the elusive world of Anime and HBO that year. These days, these children have dime a dozen torrent sites and Hulu to keep them satisfied. But the true veterans know the stress we went through to know how Naruto went on his quest to be Hokage.
They have Ubers and Taxify. They have options.
These spoilt children will never experience the terror of Nigerian parents dropping them far off from home and having them maneuver their way with public transportation.
Try that and they can just order an Uber or Taxify to take them home safely. Plus, if your parents never did this, please consider yourself lucky, and if they did, I can send my online therapist’s number. 20% discount for the first 3 months.
*straight from the mouth of an imaginary Nigerian politician*
You’ve seen us grace your television screens, switch political parties enough times to make you dizzy and cart away with enough stolen funds to make Abacha blush.
Most likely, you’ve castigated us for one thing or the other. But has anyone stopped to wonder how we spend our days? Or manage our not so Sudden Wealth Syndrome? No! Because you only think about yourselves.
That’s fine, however. Today, you’ll be getting an unsolicited insight into a day in the life of an upper echelon Nigerian politician. Here goes:
Morning
I start my day doing the same thing — confirming my account balance with my account manager.
Now, because of how very monied up I am, I like to keep my earnings in Swiss accounts. This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that these sums are allegedly stolen — contrary to whatever you might have heard on social media — but strictly because I love my money keeping cool and enjoying abroad breeze while I’m out here hustling to add to my net income.
Plus, what better way to ruin my Swiss account manager’s day than a daily reminder that he’ll be a broke boi for life?
Anyway, this act usually reminds me there are still several illicit bags to secure, so my appetite for a scam is all excited for the day.
After confirming that I remain unshakeably in the black, it’s usually time to attend to the pressing matter of my morning meal.
A typical politician breakfast usually consists of pure beef (of the political and bovine kind).
This edible beef is sourced from cows that have been fed only corrupt words of affirmation and imported grass, to ensure my day starts off right.
Consuming my breakfast usually leaves me incredibly fagged out, so I proceed to have a quick nap that lasts around 5 hours. Let no one tell you the work of a politician is easy.
Afternoon
When I wake up, it’s usually afternoon. This gives me the chance to spin the roulette wheel conveniently stationed next to my bed labeled:’Work, Relaxation and More Relaxation’, to decide how the rest of my day would pan out.
In the unfortunate event that the arrow lands on work, either of three things may happen: I send out an unsolicited statement to the press on how the opposition parties are to blame for every single ill plaguing the state. Or I stage a photo-op doing some good for the constituents in my locality. Nothing too grand though – maybe the commissioning of a toilet or wooden bridge, you get the idea.
Alternatively, and I absolutely loathe when this happens — but there are days where I actually have to do the job I was elected to. This usually involves attending several meetings and making agendas on how to make the lives of people better. Groan.
Don’t feel too bad for me though. I usually source out a scam from these meetings. They afford me the opportunity to see where an extra zero or seven can be added to the projects we decide on.
Evenings.
By evening, I ought to have decided where to make cuts and who to call on board to make sure my illegal bag goes untampered with, then I put necessary plans in motion.
But these are few and far between, I like to keep my active work hours within a 3-hour daily limit. I am someone’s child after all.
For the rest of the day, you can find me doing absolutely nothing — just how I like it. Literally just that.
Last night, I spent the whole evening wondering what would happen if I tried to sleep with my eyes open. I accidentally fell asleep after the third hour, so I’ll try again today.
There you have it, the incredibly hard-working day of a Nigerian politician. Were you expecting any more?
For the last two weeks or so, Davido has had to answer some weird questions on his tour of US radio.
You may have missed the memo, but Nigeria is casted in the abroad. While Davido has been talking about his music, the radio hosts have also asked him about what life is like for the regular guy in Nigeria.
He’s been answering in juicy detail.
Nigeria, with all its 200 or so million people, has no middle class.
The gulf between the rich and the poor is so wide that if you’re one of the wealthy (or your father managed to gather wealth at the expense of the rest of us), you cannot help standing out.
In a country where you’re either rich or poor, most people assume to achieve wealth, you need to take advantage of everyone else, like a corrupt politician.
While that may or may not be true, it is a cross that most of the wealthy and (not-so-unfortunately) their kids have to carry.
So what do they do? Many of them take the easiest route; try to blend in with the rest of us poverty-stricken folk. Take Davido for instance, the first words he ever performed on a song are ‘back when I was broke yo’, even though he’s never been broke his entire life.
Did Davido pull it off? Not exactly. Take it from me. As someone who’s been shepeteri all his life, I know how to not be the typical rich kid.
It starts by staying as far away from a microphone as possible.
It’s easy to convince yourself that you have talent when Wande Coal let you destroy his song for your 12th birthday.
But no matter what you do, never get involved in music. Here in Nigeria, music and football are incubators for rags-to-riches stories. It’s part of how the world works on this side. Rich kids go to school and collect degrees to work in their dad’s offices.
Poor children sleep in the studio or on the pitch and wake up decades later with one hit song or an invitation to try out for a Turkish 5th Division club.
Davido and DJ Cuppy are testaments to how hostile Nigerians can be if they feel you’re getting a free ride on your father’s money in a field where only the talented should flourish.
Getting any form of success in music while your dad’s stashing money in the family home in Orlu is bound to get people digging, which brings me to my next point.
If you don’t have the padlock on your social media, DO IT NOW.
You may not have noticed (thanks to those thick Balenciaga glasses rendering you legally blind) but there’s unemployment in the land. The average 25-year-old is spending way more time than they should on Instagram, digging through photos and making connections like a digital Inspector Bediako.
We all know social media is for sharing stuff with friends and all that. Guess who doesn’t care? Instablog9ja.
You may think it’s just your friends checking your photos until one day, someone reposts one of you rocking Virgil Abloh’s new Off-White collab. Then, you suddenly get 1000 followers from the same side of town as Brother Shaggi in one afternoon. Sooner or later, Instablog9ja comes calling.
To prevent this, make your friends swear a blood oath to not post any photos of you in compromising situations.
Of course, if you have good friends, one of them will empathise with your situation and volunteer to make life easier for you.
How? By being your Man Friday… or whichever day of the week you choose.
His sole purpose is to be a front, to be the one whose name appears on the receipt when you buy something expensive. He’ll be the one who everybody celebrates as the innovative CEO when you buy a company with your father’s stolen money and use connections to solve all its problems. Depending on how much his extended family depends on your ‘kindness’, he can also do jail time for you.
You could totally employ someone for this role too (because you actually have money so you can buy a person’s time and attention for as long as you want).
Speaking of problems, I’m sure you never thought of your great dress sense and massive wardrobe as one. Well, think it again bro.
Regardless of whether they attend Pastor Lazarus Muoka’s church or not, most people like to look good. And while all that money means you can actually afford to, rocking Louis Vuitton like ‘Hushpuppi’ could literally be the most stupid thing you could do.
Because Nigerians are funny, one moment, they’re hailing you as a style icon. Then your father’s name gets mentioned by the EFCC and “news blogs” put those photos of you looking like HushPuppi as the cover image.
I can already see the Whatsapp BCs; “While you blind yourself with kerosene lamps and pee inside buckets, comman see what the son of our leaders are doing with our MONEEYYYYY”
*insert photo of a young man dressed as a wealthy Igbo time-traveller here*
To be fair, all of this is enough to distract people from the fact that your gut is fattening on taxpayers’ money to an extent. But it’s not enough.
Everything we’ve said will be completely pointless if you do not have something to show as the source of your wealth. You don’t want a random Joe to stumble on your LinkedIn and find that the only employment info on your LinkedIn page is from that time in 2009 where you called yourself your dad’s assistant because he asked you to transfer money to MC Oluomo.
So get a job. If you have to open a brand new company with a strange name that does everything on paper and nothing in real life, do it. Employ people who regularly retweet your meaningless tweets because loyalty, print identity and business cards, have company retreats.
When they ask you why you’re paying them even though they’re not working, tell them their job is social welfare and you’re using them as the first example. It makes no sense but by the time they figure it out, you’ll have left the building in your helicopter.
Save for some spiritual intervention or hidden cameras (Shout-out to Jafaar), anyone should be scandal proof if you can manage to live life on these terms.
You’re probably wondering why I’m dishing these tips out for free. Well, call it empathy, but since I became, you know, an adult, I’ve come to understand that dirty money doesn’t care who you are inside.
So this is my contribution to all my friends and foes trying to make sure the dirty money they’re spending doesn’t stain their white.
Eat your cake and have it, my dear. Nothing do you.
While you’re here, let me tell you about the Zikoko Pop Newsletter.
It’s called Poppin’ – everything you should know happening in pop culture, plus recommendations, our fire playlists, info on all the best parties and freebies you won’t get anywhere else. Do the right thing and sign up, my gee.
The year was 1984. Contrary to Orwellian designs, society was yet to devolve into a dystopia, just teeming with human rights abuse… Or had it?
For Umar Dikko, the human being and former Nigerian minister of transport who in that very year, narrowly missed being shipped and delivered to Nigeria in a crate like ASOS cargo; the answer might have been a tad different.
Umaru Abdulrahman Dikko (31 Dec. 1936- 1 July 2014), was a Nigerian politician who won the nepotism lottery, with the emergence of his brother-in-law — Shehu Shagari as president in 1979. Under his tenure, he served as the Minister of Transport and headed a presidential task force on rice.
For most people, these would have been key roles to provide a much- needed service to the nation; overseeing the diversification and improvement of national transport systems as well as tending to the growing rice shortage in the land. But not Dikko. Unlocking his third eye; he saw the posts for what they really were — a thoroughfare to the national coffers and an invitation to transfer as much money as possible to eponymous bank accounts.
Claims made the rounds between 1979 and 1983 of his having embezzled millions and millions of dollars in oil profits. But he wasn’t the only one, if you had a relative that served in the 1979-1983 government of Shagari, then chances are, they cashed the hell out at Nigeria’s expense. Embezzlement totalling figures close to $416 billion were made known during that period. Numbers which one Major General Muhammadu Buhari (yes, same one) silently watched and tighted to his chest for the right moment.
With governmental corruption being what it was in the 80s and Nigeria’s economy remaining on a downward trajectory, a military incursion became an almost welcome palliative. Major General Buhari became head of state in a bloodless coup in 1983, and one of his first orders of business? Rounding up alleged corrupt politicians, like Umar Dikko to answer for their actions.
Now if you were a politician back them, with a ton of stolen money to spare and a Nigerian military bounty on your head, getting the hell out of dodge, to live to see another day, wouldn’t have been the most illogical step.
Which is why, very shortly after the announcement by Buhari — Dikko and a host of other Nigerian politicians, fled the country to become vocal, yet safely far-off critics of the military government. A move which didn’t sit too nicely with Buhari.
While most people would leave revenge to God, karma or just life to handle, most people aren’t Major General Muhammadu Buhari; who, allegedly so bent on flaying Dikko’s behind, had a super team of Nigerian secret service and Mossad agents from Israel assembled, all to repatriate Dikko to Nigeria by any means necessary. What followed is the stuff Hollywood wet dreams are made of.
The team sent to recover Umaru Dikko was made up of an alleged Mossad agent – Alexander Barak, Nigerian intelligence officer Major Mohammed Yusuf and Israel nationals – Felix Abitol and Dr Lec-Arie Shapiro; whose sole role was to anaesthesise Dikko, to ensure he got to Nigeria alive, sedated and hassle free.
But first, they had to find Dikko. If you think the shepherd who left 100 sheep, to go in search of a single lost one, was on to something, then you have to appreciate the effort these guys put in to find just one corrupt politician.
Following useful tips and intel, they zeroed in his location to London. Prompting the team to fly to Mommy Charles’ city and rent out two apartments to find him.
The first Nigerian team, posing as exiles, rented an apartment in London, while the Israeli team adopted the cover of anti-apartheid activists, renting a separate apartment in London to stake out the area.
A whole six months after their search began, they found him. Living la vida loca in a luxurious area of West London – Bayswater, was our main man- Umar Dikko.
It took another month of stake-outs, trailing and planning before it came time to reel the big fish in. Here was the plan: they were going to jump Dikko outside of his apartment, with Shapiro quickly administering anesthesia to knock him out. They would then drive straight to the airport, where all parties would get into crates to be shipped straight to Nigeria. What could go wrong?
The plan was scheduled for July 4th. In preparation, a Boeing 707 Nigeria Airways plane landed in London, late in the evening of July 3rd at Stanstead Airport – empty of cargo, but with Nigerian security guards on board. The pilot explained the plane’s use as being necessary to transport diplomatic baggage from the Nigerian High Commission in London to Lagos, Nigeria; while the security guards were to ensure its safe delivery.
This might seem like a harebrained idea on first listen, but here’s why it was actually brilliant — Under the Vienna diplomatic laws, the cargo of a foreign envoy tagged ‘diplomatic baggage’, was not to be subjected to searches. Which is why a plan to have a crate, loaded with whole human beings to be shipped across nations actually was a some what genius idea. As an added diplomatic perk, cargo could be requested to go unmanifested i.e loaded without any evidence of its having been transported.
So the ballsy quartet put their plan in motion. On July third, Al-Shapiro, Barak and Abithol, set out in a van driven by Yusufu to Dikko’s residence to coerce his return to Nigeria.
Upon reaching Bayswater, (Dikko’s home), they waited patiently until their target set out on a walk. Spotting him, he was quickly accosted by 2 members of the gang, dragged into the van and then drugged by Al-Shapiro, to ensure he was unproblematic and sleepy when he arrived Nigeria to face the nightmare awaiting him.
Until that point, their plan had gone mostly hitch-free, and Dikko probably would have come to Nigeria to stare into the unsmiling eyes of Buhari’s justice system; had his secretary – Elizabeth Hayes, not witnessed the full event from an upstairs window and alerted authorities.
Her call to the police greatly complicated things for the team and proved to be the wretch that ruined their devious, yet well laid out scheme. While the crew was being successfully loaded into crates — Al-Shapiro and Dikko in one, with Barak and Abithola in another — a missing person’s report for the kidnapped, a high profile Nigerian national,desperately wanted by the Nigerian government, had gotten to customs officials present in the airport, putting them on alert to any kind of suspicious activity.
Now picture this, two crates already loaded and on the airport tarmac. Just one step away from having six months of planning finally come to fruition, and the dark skylines of Lagos would receive their triumphant return.
Unfortunately for them, their happy ending never came.
With word of a high profile Nigerian diplomat being taken, on the very likely possibility of being smuggled out of the country to face the repercussions of his alleged actions; two large crates, large enough to house grown men, started looking a lot less like convoys for environmentally-problematic diplomatic documents, and a lot more like get-away pods for the assailants and the kidnapped.
The officials present at the airport tarmac where the crates were situated, were so wary, they chose to ignore the entreaties of a Nigerian diplomat- Emmanuel Edet, present. His alleged role was ensuring the smooth sailing of the plan and making sure the crates were loaded to the plane, unmanifested. The officials, bent on allaying their suspicions, used the absence of an accredited courier as well as appropriate documentation — valid legal requirements — as just cause to open the crates.
You can imagine what happened next. Still in the wide airport tarmac, just moments from being loaded onto the plane, the discovery of 3 humans, and an alarmingly shirtless and unconscious Dikko, who had a heart monitor strapped to his chest and an endotracheal tube lodged in his throat to keep him alive — were made.
As soon as the crates were opened, Edet made a run for it. Hitting a quick sprint along the tarmac, before realising no one was chasing him, at least 4.5m into his race.
The fall out of this event was far-reaching. The four parties involved, received prison sentences in the United Kingdom. The CEO of Nigeria Airways was almost arrested by the British Government at some point. And although Nigeria and Israel always denied any involvement in the matter, diplomatic relations between the West African country and the UK broke down and were only restored, two years after the event.
Despite it all, Nigeria, ever the gutsy nation, attempted to have Dikko repatriated to Nigeria via legal means, but the British; done with our drama, refused to grant the request.
Umar Dikko continued to live in the UK, and always denied the allegations made against him.
Following an invitation by the Nigerian Government, he moved back to Nigeria, but not after letting 10 years pass to soothe murky waters. He went on to hold the post of Chairman of the Disciplinary Committee of the PDP.
He passed away at the age of 78, following a series of strokes on the 1st of July, 2014 in London, UK.
If I’m being honest, they haven’t invented the metric system to quantify how very little I rate Nigeria. Just FYI, I’m female, so you can understand.
This got me wondering how different groups living in Nigeria would rate the country. So I decided to make a little game out of it.
Straight from my POV, here’s how I imagine a Nigerian man, woman, child, pastor and politician would rate Nigeria using 5 stars at their disposal:
Nigerian Man – 2.5 stars
I’d say 2 and a half stars.
First, I am constantly moving around with a metaphorical target on my back.
Nigerian policemen see me and immediately want to know if I have something for the boys. Personally, I could do with a something- supplier myself.
Then there’s that pressure to be the head of the home, whatever that means. But on the plus side, the Nigerian society allows me a wife who tends to my every need and bidding. She’s also conditioned by the Nigerian society to forgive my every indiscretion, so that’s pretty sweet.
Actually, so sweet, I’m bumping that rating to 3 stars; just fix up with the shakedowns and I’m good really.
Nigerian woman,- 0 stars
I’d give Nigeria 0 stars. If there’s a negative ranking, I’d pick that instead.
Hear me out, first of all, according to Nigeria, I have an expiry date, the day I turn 30 to be precise. And God forbid I’m not married and sprouting children at that point, it’s all over for me.
But, if you enjoy being cat-called and dragged everytime you take a trip to the clothes market, then by all means, Nigeria is for you.
Same if you’d love your growing years to be one long tirade on how you should act in your husband’s house.
Personally, it’s a no for me, I would not recommend. Escape while you can.
Politician- 5 stars
Look, Nigeria is a wonderful country to live in. Ask my daughter who is completing her university education in the UK and she’ll tell you. Same thing with my wife who is currently on a Euro-tour because she got a little bored at home. And even yours truly. Soon as I’m done getting my bi-weekly temperature checked and teeth-cleaned in my favourite Swiss hospital, I’ll be back in Nigeria to live my best life.
Pastor – 5 stars
I don’t know what the fuss is about, Nigeria makes for a great business, sorry I meant country. I’d give it 5 stars. 10/10 would strongly recommend.
Churches pay no tax, I get to fly private without too many questions asked, least of all from my largely middle-class congregation and people don’t look too closely at the actors you bring on stage. What’s not to love? Unless you have a better market for me, then let me hear it, plis and thanks.
Child – 2 stars
Even though my vocabulary is stunted and I have only the most rudimentary understanding of numbers, I’d say 2 stars. And that’s only because Nigerian aunties are pretty doting when you’re still cute. But my mates get beaten up by teachers if parents fail to pay fees, and a lot of my mates still get classes under trees with slates as writing materials.
The 2019 elections will be remembered for many things. Its postponement, all the trash talking, the very many candidates… but for the important role they, the following things didn’t get as much attention.
So here are some of the most overlooked, yet key bits of the 2019 elections, that kept things interesting:
The metaphorical fashion
If the future doesn’t have Buhari in it, I don’t want to see it.
Wear my face on your sleeve, so I know it’s real.
Nigerians displaying an … interesting kind of love.
Who knew we were into objectophilia.
Get this, this thinking human being wanted Atiku to win so bad, he climbed this billboard to emotionally blackmail him to win. Wild.
Then we had this… attack in Lagos.
Is it ever, ever that deep?
On land,in the air, maybe even underground — no where is safe.
Wait what?
https://t.co/pE3ImdTLfv
Nothing like a little inappropriate analogy to win elections, am I right?
The campaign season also birthed a new kind of fanaticism.
Oh! to be loved like a father, full government name and all.
I mean
Meanwhile … Our Sanwo-Olu babes are here with a specially dedicated song to Alhaji @atiku 😂😂 (Atiku is the shoemaker, the whole world is aware, He will polish Buhari's shoes) 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 pic.twitter.com/Q7x5gD2F8f
Oh you don’t regularly forgive people’s sins for de-camping? Couldn’t be Oshiomole.
Then we had a truly ugly part of the campaigns. The hustling spirit it produced.
For a product that is rightly free, some INEC officials took to charging ₦1000 to well-intending Nigerians, just wishing for the opportunity to vote. A shame.
Then we had the case of the peeping Tom
Talk about trust issues.
And to cap it off, we had a very interesting take on gang-signs this part of the world.
#APC4Life
Blown up, in case you missed it.
What was your favourite part about the 2019 election campaign?
