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warder | Zikoko!
  • The #NairaLife Of A Prison Warder Trapped In Low Income

    The #NairaLife Of A Prison Warder Trapped In Low Income

    Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

    This weeks’ #Nairalife was made possible by FCMB’s promise of quality medical care from the comfort of your home.

    What is your oldest memory of money 

    I was on my way to school — I was in JSS 3 at the time — my money was in my breast pocket. I sat inside the danfo, and as I was about to give the conductor money, I checked my pocket and the money was not there.

    Ah.

    My pocket had torn. After the conductor yabbed me, one woman pitied me and paid for me. I was 14, and this was 1999.

    Now, about that torn uniform…

    Life was tough. My mum used to go to a big pharmacy and help them sell drugs. Sometimes, I’d have gone to sleep by the time she got back. The only time I saw her was on weekends.

    The only adult who was at home with us was an aunty and she was mean. I couldn’t tell her if I had any problems sef.

    Ah, that struggle. What about your dad?

    My dad used to work with another family member to do construction work. When it got to a point and things weren’t working out, he decided to leave the country. The thing is, leaving the country to America and Europe was hard if you didn’t have money. So he went to Pakistan. I know he used to go to other Asian countries from there, but Pakistan was his main base.

    I know this because I overheard him talking about it with my mum.

    What changed when he got there?

    At first, nothing. You know there weren’t GSMs then. We used to go to a place to make calls on NITEL phones. So after we, first of all, confirmed that he’d reached Pakistan, we didn’t hear from him for a long time.

    How long?

    About a year and a half.

    Ah!

    Things got hard. So hard that I had to go live with my grandpa. When my father finally called, it was to tell us that he actually got arrested. He was in the wrong place, with the wrong people. But they’d already released him, which was why he was calling.

    What did they hold him, or the people he was with for?

    The people that helped him travel were into shady stuff over there. He came back in 1996, and I remember everything getting better. In fact, we moved from a ‘face-me-I-face-you’ to a flat. He went back to working in construction. Then people started sending him clothes to sell from Pakistan —  Jalabiyas and all that. When it looked like that was picking up, he travelled to Pakistan again.

    Then. Sigh.

    Then what?

    I went to school and when I came back, there was a crowd inside our house, and people were crying…

    Sigh

    Someone walked up to me and said, you’re a man, don’t cry. Your daddy is dead.

    I’m so sorry man.

    I cried ehn. They said he felt sick, went to the hospital, got admitted, and died there.

    What did this mean for you and the family?

    It was as if when he died, he went with all the money. We know he had some small investments, but we didn’t know where. We know he had friends owing him, but we didn’t know who. In fact, I remember that one of his friends came in 2007. He said that my dad’s spirit was disturbing him to return his money to his family.

    Interesting. How much did he return?

    ₦100k. He said he was going to bring the rest. He didn’t say the amount sha. The only thing my mother had was her shop. That shop was the only source of income for the family. When the stock went dry, I had to get a job, so I went to work at a video club for two years. That paid me ₦3,500. By the end of the first year, my salary climbed to ₦5k.

    You were 18 years old when you started.

    Yes. I used to give my mum ₦1,500, then I later added ₦500 to it. The rest was for my upkeep. Later, my sister started her own video club, and I was managing it.

    How many people were living in your house at the time?

    Like 10 o.

    Ah.

    We’re four children, but my mum went to pack her brother’s children. Three of them were staying with us. That harsh aunty too. Then someone else joined.

    A lot of mouths to feed.

    My mum likes her family more than herself. She was a petty trader and took care of all of them from that petty trading. They left when they could and never looked back. That meant that I had to figure out how to take care of myself. Especially after I entered University in 2006.

    Ah, nice.

    I had an aunty – my dad’s younger sister – who was trying to take care of us. But she said the pressure was getting too much on her. She had her own kids and suggested that the best thing to do was to get a job. So she helped me get a job in the Civil Service. I entered with my SSCE.

    Hmm. Tell me about your first salary.

    They paid my 6 months at once for the period I spent in training school. This was 2009.

    How much?

    ₦155k. Total.

    What was it like the day it first entered?

    Nothing. The people who’d been helping me calculate it were already expecting it. I went to Lagos the next day and I gave my mum ₦50k. I started at Level 5 and the salary was ₦26k then. It’s now about ₦45k.

    So, when did you graduate?

    December 2011. Computer Science. Now, the way it works is this. When you start with an SSCE and you have a complete result – that is with Maths and English – you get into Level 5. When you don’t have a pass in any of these, you start in level 3 or 4.

    But now that I’ve gotten a degree, I should be in Level 8, but I’m not. People are promoting only their people. I’m still stuck in Level 6.

    How much is a Level 6 salary?

    ₦51k.

    Tell me how your salary has grown since 2011. Year-on-year.

    They add ₦400 yearly to the monthly take-home. But when I got promoted to Level 6 in 2016, it got increased to ₦50k. Then they started adding ₦500 per year.

    Between 2009 and now, which responsibilities have you added?

    Marriage in 2015, a child in 2016. My wife started working in 2017.

    What’s your current household income?

    The combination of my salary and my wife’s salary? ₦110k.

    Other expenses are emergencies and miscellaneous.

    Tell me about those.

    My son gets sick sometimes. The last two times, we paid up to  ₦25k for medicine alone.

    Don’t you have health insurance?

    I have, but I always need to go outside to buy drugs, and my health insurance doesn’t cover that.

    How much do you feel like you should be earning right now? After 10 years of experience?

    At least ₦130k. But If I get promoted as I should, I’ll be earning ₦70k.

    What is something you need but can’t afford right now?

    I want to move to either Canada, USA or any European country. I want to leave this country, and try to help from there. People are suffering.

    I’m wondering if there’s an actual plan towards this

    There’s a plan, but there’s no money. To be honest, I’m cautious too, because I’ve got duped before. I gave someone my NYSC savings of ₦120k. My sister added another ₦120k, and we lost everything. This was in 2013.

    Have you ever considered picking up a skill that will fetch you more money on the side?

    I’m thinking of learning barbing, I hear it’s very useful when you travel abroad. There are other things I’m interested in learning. I’d like to learn photography, design or programming. The problem is that these ones need money to start.

    Do you have a computer?

    No. My phone is so bad that a friend even borrowed me his extra phone to use.

    What are some things that will make your life feel better if you buy them?

    A laptop, because I can do things with photography and learn other stuff. A car, because I can do some side hustling. Also, having my own house, because rent every year is tough.

    What’s the last thing you bought that made you feel better?

    The food we were supposed to sell. We ended up eating most of it.

    You sell food?

    My wife and I decided to collect a cooperative loan last year. We rented a shop at ₦4200 monthly, then decided to start selling foodstuff; rice, beans and all that. Now, we can’t even account for most of the money. The original loan was ₦500k, and we used everything to set up for the shop. For example, a freezer cost ₦110k.

    We started the business because we were targeting student areas. And then, the lockdown started.

    Eish. And they had to go home.

    Now, we can barely account for the money, and we intend to shut down the shop by December.

    I know it’s all you want, but do you have any back up plans if the travelling abroad doesn’t work out?

    Maybe I’ll start a viewing centre, or a farm.

    Do you ever think back at a point in your life where things might have turned out differently?

    Football. I’ve played everywhere; in school, at work, in the neighbourhood. I’ve always been the MVP, the one everybody picks to play on their team. I wanted to chase football at some point, but my mum didn’t agree.

    Why?

    She banned me from going for training. I used to go to lesson instead. You know what’s paining me? I have a certificate I suffered so much to get, yet I’ve never used it.

    I want to ask about your financial happiness, on a scale of 1-10, because it’s an essential question.

    3. It’s bad. My financial situation is just really bad. That is all.

    Have you ever considered leaving the service?

    Yes, but there are no guarantees that I’ll find something else in this country. Also, age is no longer on my side. I’m 35 years old.

    UPDATE: Upon request from readers, we’ve added a payment link for people interested in sending him some love and light here.


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  • A Week In The Life Of A Prison Warder During A Pandemic

    A Week In The Life Of A Prison Warder During A Pandemic

    “A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.


    The subject of today’s “A Week In The Life” is *Pelumi, a prison warder. He walks us through the prison system during a pandemic.

    prison warder

    MONDAY:

    I wake up by 6 am today. Parade starts by 7 am and I need to be on the parade ground before then. If not, I will be punished. The parade usually involves gathering all the officers and briefing us on the task of the day. Thankfully, my house is a walking distance from the prison. 

    I am working at the gate today. Working at the gate is better than supervising the inmates. This is because of the smell of the prison; water is gold in prison. Each cell has a chairman that supervises the water collection. This chairman has officials who gather the kegs, fetch water for the cell, then resell to the other inmates. Money is also a big deal in prison. 

    One of the chairmen of the cells used to be an armed robber. He killed an 8-year-old girl because she recognised his face from a robbery. This kind of thing makes sympathy for inmates hard. It affects you psychologically. It’s not easy to be kind to this sort of person. So, when the pumping machine or the light is faulty, nobody is in a rush to fix it. After all, these people don’t deserve it. Therefore, the whole place ends up smelling because the inmates haven’t had a bath in days.

    I shake away these thoughts from my mind. They are not my problem. At least, not today. I am not going to be on the inmate supervision shift for a while. So, let me enjoy this moment.

    I play Travis Scott’s highest in the room on my phone and drown out the noise. I am counting down till closing time. I just want to go home and play GTA on my PS4.

    TUESDAY:

    Today, we rejected 15 new inmates because of Covid-19. We have stopped admitting inmates because courts have been suspended. This means that people will be awaiting trial indefinitely until things resume again. The correctional facility is crowded already and it’s tough managing the crowd. We can’t afford a larger crowd in the middle of a pandemic.

    My first day at work was so scary. New recruits were taken into a particular cell holding at least 250 people. We were then asked to walk round the cell to get a feel of it. The number of people in that space was both scary and sad. It looked like something not fit for animals not to talk of human beings. 

    Thankfully, that crowd has been reduced over time. People have been released or transferred out of our facility. I am just thankful that we emptied the cells before Corona came. If not…

    This disease is scary. We are at risk because we can’t afford to stay at home. To protect ourselves, we have provided water and soap in all the cells. The chairmen in the cells have also agreed to make water more available. Everyone is working together because we are all scared. In addition, we also provided hand sanitizers, gloves, and nose masks to each cell.

    Even with all of this, some inmates still think there is nothing to be worried about. That’s their own business. I am impressed with how we are handling this whole thing. From the authorities to some of the inmates.

    At least, I have one less thing to worry about until closing time.

    WEDNESDAY:

    Prison can be scary. People land in here for various reasons. I am happy today because when I get to work, I hear that one of the inmates I like is leaving. He was imprisoned because he defaulted on a loan of ₦700,000. According to him, he failed to pay the debt and was arrested. Even after his family raised the money and paid the debt, he was still sent to jail. It took him 5 years to get justice and fight the conviction. I am just happy that he finally got justice.

    His case is even better. There are other people that have been jailed and they can’t raise bail of N5,000. These people are in prison because of bailable offenses like fighting and roaming around. For some of them, their families don’t know they are in prison because they can’t tell them.

    The saddest case I know is of a soldier that was fighting insurgents in Maiduguri. He left his base without permission for a wedding in Lagos. He then got into a fight with a traffic warden. He was arrested but he felt that his status as a uniformed man would protect him. It did until it was discovered that he left his base without authorization, then they threw him in jail. Now, he can’t call anyone because the repercussion for deserting the army without permission is two times worse than prison. So, he’s going to quietly serve out his sentence here without his family knowing where he is. At the end of his sentence, he will probably pretend that he had a mental illness and return home.

    There are so many of these kind of cases here.

    I keep looking at the time. A few more hours until I can go home to play FIFA with my housemates.

    THURSDAY:

    I don’t want to go to work today. I am not in the mood but I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go to work, I won’t get my temperature checked. If I don’t get my temperature checked, I won’t know whether I have Coronavirus or not. So, I get up to prepare for work.

    I run into my secondary school teacher and he looks surprised to see me in my uniform. He asks me what I am doing and I tell him I am a prison warder. He looks disappointed but I am not bothered. This is part of the stereotype that I face in this job and I am used to it. He seems uncomfortable so he tries to change the topic. I ask him if warders aren’t human beings like him but he doesn’t reply.

    I thank him and leave. I am actually not surprised. After working in a prison for the last 2 years, very little surprises me. I have seen so many things and this is the least of my problems. 

    My problem now is that I am late for work. I have to run if I want to make it in time for the parade.

    FRIDAY:

    American prison is different from Nigerian prison in the sense that the prisoners here fight but they don’t stab themselves. It’s just too much stress for everyone involved. The clinic is not equipped to handle that kind of emergency.

    To discourage inmates from fighting, we have designed a special cell. Our own form of solitary confinement with a twist. You get visitors – big rats. Even me, I am scared of the place, talkless of the prisoners. We don’t beat or force anyone not to fight. The promise of that cell is usually strong enough to make everyone behave.

    There is a hierarchy in each cell. There is the Chairman, then an “inspector general”, his deputy, then the “police.” These people are responsible for enforcing the law in each 53 man cell. The number of inmates varies per cell depending on the size. We hold these elected officials accountable for anything that happens in a cell. So, we warn the chairman to behave and the message trickles down to the other inmates. 

    There is a cell that recently impeached their chairman so they held elections for a new one. After the new chairman came into power, they started shouting like it was the Gubernatorial election. They carried their new chairman in the air and screamed. I had to threaten them with solitary confinement before they stopped shouting. But secretly, I was amused by the politics. 

    While all of this is interesting, I can’t stop thinking of the weekend. Thankfully, I am off-duty. I look forward to drinking a cold Budweiser, flirting with one or two girls, and sleeping. 

    SATURDAY:

    In prison, inmates and warders often watch big matches together during the weekend. But since football is on hold, we haven’t done that in a while. Saturdays without football are tough for me.

    I miss watching football. Especially big matches where both warders and inmates gather and argue heatedly. In those moments, we all come together as one. At least until 90 mins are over. I miss that rush. 

    There is nothing to do today, so I fire up Call of Duty to pass time. I don’t feel like texting any girl today.

    SUNDAY:

    I feel lonely today. I miss my family because I haven’t been able to visit them since the lockdown started. I miss my mum, dad, and siblings.

    The inmates must be going through a lot during this period. They can’t see their family members, they can’t spend time with them. It must be difficult for them. I understand how they must feel to an extent because I also can’t see my family. I feel trapped and helpless. Is this how they feel? 

    I can’t wait for this lockdown to end so I can spend time with my family. I’ll really love to see my family together. Having everyone one around and catching up is nice. If I have learned anything from this lockdown, it’s that I won’t ever take freedom for granted. 

    I miss my people. For now, I call my mum and catch up. At least I still have that luxury.


    This story was edited and condensed for clarity. The image does not represent the identity of the subject.


    Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life Of” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, don’t hesitate to reach out. Reach out to me: hassan@bigcabal.com if you want to be featured on this series.