My flight arrived in Johannesburg, South Africa, and I went through immigration gingerly (more like, gingerly-ly). If anyone lifted their voices, my gaze darted like that of a petty thief approaching a forgotten wallet on the street. My 200k naira felt reassuring that even though I had no US dollars on me in a strange land, I would get at least 2000 USD as soon as I managed to pass through the unfriendly guys at immigration. My green passport stood me out to benefit from all possible scrutiny a visitor to South Africa at the time would get.
As I approached the counter, I died in motion. Did I have my yellow card? Was my quickly-obtained visa genuine? Was it possible that someone had scammed me by abridging a process and just stamping my passport with a fake South African visa? I was thinking all these while stretching my hands and handing the green booklet to the guy at the desk. I think he asked how many days I was staying South Africa but I can not remember whether I answered but somehow I shuffled through and found myself in Arrivals hall.
In the Arrivals, I negotiated my way quickly to the bureau du change. I thought it was Abuja. I asked to change my currency into US dollars. They asked me, “What is naira?” It was a big shock. Despite all the Nollywood movies and the popularity of Nigerian artists like P-Square shooting videos in The Rainbow Country, these guys were claiming not to know the naira? I was angry but getting desperate. A rich thousandaire was about to either sleep on the streets or head back to Naija on the next plane. I would not be able to take an airport taxi even if I knew someone there in Joburg. But I knew no one.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t giving up. I asked my wife via SMS to Abuja to help get to someone for me. Woop! That SMS cost N400 and I had just less than N1000 before sending that message. This was pre-WhatsApp and those Web3.0 innovations, so you could only make a voice call, send an SMS, or send some messages on Facebook. But I had internet so using Facebook was out of the question.
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Eventually, as I explored my chances, I got introduced to a young Nigerian man using his car as a taxi and his 2-bedroom home as a hotel. He offered to take my naira at a much lower rate and I dumped my life in hands. I would live in his house and he would be dropping me off at my training. A total stranger! We were just joined by the fact that someone said we were both Nigerians.
We rolled well. He woke me up on time and we had good conversations; he showed me around Joburg, and then one evening, he said he should visit his friends. No alarm went off in my head. When got there, a clean neighbourhood for an upper middle-class group, the guys I met in the apartment didn’t fit. They had mattresses on the floor and everybody seemed to be drinking a popular alcoholic beverage. They had dreads and smoked in ways that seemed like the twigs on their heads were on fire. Or about to be. They all huddled up on computers and hailed my friend-and-driver when we got in. They didn’t care about me beyond the Naija, “How nau?”
In a few minutes, I realised that those guys probably had the fastest internet on planet Earth. Many years down the line, it dawned on me that I had visited a den of internet fraudsters. Did my friend know what their trade was? Was he a part of them? Why did he take me there since he didn’t need to? I wondered what would have happened if the security agencies raided them on the day I visited. You know…chance… Permutations.
So, if you are on this earth and still alive, you have got a chance to do a lot of things or a little. You are alive and not incarcerated… Chance. You can pay your rent but you cannot eat… Chance. How do we think about this simple perspective and ensure that we have been gifted and we need to pass that gift on? Everyone making sure you do something positive for the environment ends up building a saner society and environment. Sustainability operates on this principle: tapping into our collective resources in ways that make them available for the future lives for whom we hold this world in trust.
This leads to some kind of optimism that can be annoying. You would always see the positive side of life and become so positive that you sound imbecilic in a way. You latch onto rays of hope, ignoring glimmers of adversity. This is why I have remained in Nigeria, despite all what is happening around the nation. I hear my friends over the years running away (dem de japa) but I see great hope for Nigeria, even when there fire on its mountain. Let’s keep doing our little, even though I have no assurances for you about the outcome.
