Chapter 1
Tanya Whitehall walked up the stairs of the science faculty
of the University of Lagos. As she walked upstairs, she greeted each
lecturer she saw. The particular lecturer she was looking for, prof
Adedeji, told her he was in his office when she called an hour earlier.
He was to be her project supervisor for the 9 month PGD programme she
was running. She was clad in an orange-white flowery top and black pants
with flat shoes.
"Good morning, ma" she greeted the light skinned
faculty office secretary.
She had some wrinkle lines at the edges of
her eyes and her mouth. You could call her attractive, in a manner of
speaking.
"Good morning my dear" she answered the greeting but didn't make eye contact.
Tanya
continued. She wasn't taken aback, because it was standard protocol in
the reality of Unilag. The students weren't important unless there was
some form of exchange going on. Schooling in a Yoruba speaking state,
that exchange would be called 'egunje'.
It oiled the wheels of progress
when you couldn't summon the time and persistent you would have to
commit so that the regular office duties would be done. Her friend doing
a masters in another department actually commended Science Faculty for
being better than other department. She just snorted in her head at that.
"Ma, I am looking for prof Adedeji..."
"You
have to call him" she looked at her for the first time from horn rimmed
glasses. "He rushed out of here 30 minutes ago to meet up with another
appointment".
"Ok ma" she answered and turned around.
In Unilag,
it was customary to wait for hours on end for lecturers. If you didn't
wait, you were termed unserious.
"Can I wait here for him?"
She
snorted in response. Tanya took that as a yes. She sat down and brought
out her blackberry phone to update her twitter status with 'a long wait
ahead of me' then started browsing through Facebook. When her phone
started hanging, she dropped it and began day-dreaming about the Nokia
XI with amazing camera properties, that wouldn't hang and had the BBM
advantage.
She adjusted her feet, crossed and uncrossed her legs, then adjusted till she was comfortable enough for the long wait.
******
Bright
Okopi was one of those guys from the south-south with barely there
dreams. The only important thing about the dream was that it still got
him up at 5am, up and about and hustling. He graduated from the
university 3 years ago and was yet to get a stable job. Being an
engineer should mean something, least that is what he believed when he
wrote JAMB 5 times before finally being admitted into UNIBEN to study
engineering. He was the envy of many, all through school because he
always aced his courses. And when he couldn't, because of some really
terrible lecturers, being a class rep worked wonders for him. He
finished with a 2 1'.
Where was the envy now?
He was coming back
from another failed interview. Just remaining the disdainful look on the face of the
HR told him he hadn't made it into that engineering firm. Too many
creme boys with letter from mommy/daddy/uncle. He almost cursed his
parents for being poor. Only the memory of his pastor telling how
important the law of honour was stopped him.
"I no wan add curse
to the one wey I already dey"
He muttered under his breathe as he
adjusted and grimaced, all kinds of smells reaching his nose from the
people and his environment in the rickety bus headed for Ajegunle. He
lived at No. 14 Gbegiri street Ajegunle with his parents, two siblings
and two cousins. They were 'managing'.
He hated the word 'managing' but
his circumstances and looks and environment spoke of deep poverty. The
people were ugly inside and out and dressed it, looked it, embraced it.
They even insulted themselves early in the morning at 6am, at noon, at
6pm and at midnight.
They probably saw nothing wrong with
poverty. His pastor said, 'to conquer poverty, you must hate poverty,
not the people but the thinking'.
Poverty is a thinking!
By the word you
must rise out of it. He heard the pastor's voice in his head.
He had only been attending the church for 6 months
but having a mentor who believed in him was refreshing. He heard his
pastor's voice in his head say, 'Christ has redeemed you from the curse
of the law, don't let your environment defeat you. Speak God's mind, say
'I am rich'.
He didn't know how much he believed his pastor or if
he believed him at all. He knew that if he made a mistake of screaming
'I am rich', all the contrary people around him would laugh till they
cried because their environment was screaming poverty, just not with
words.
He wanted to but he couldn't, not yet.
He bowed his head down and muttered "I am rich". A dark skinned
lady with bright purple eye shadow and bright red lipstick asked him,
"what did you say?"
He turned and looked out the window saying nothing.
The streets of Lagos passed before his unseeing eyes.
******
Mr
Gbolahan Dada sat at his table, reading through 2.0 lenses at the
paperwork on his desk. He dropped into the office and would be leaving
in another 3 hours. He needed to sign some papers before leaving for
Abuja on the 2pm flight. His driver informed him that they would have to
leave for 10.30 if they wanted to make the flight. He glanced through,
signed the papers and called his p.a to tidy up his desk.
As he
walked to his champagne coloured Range Rover Sport. He climbed in and
made two calls, one to his wife and the second to his mistress.
He
didn't call mama much these days, his eyes never could meet hers. Her
eyes could read deep into his soul. Even though she never spoke a word,
he felt judged by those piercing clear sincere eyes.
In the world he now
lived in, sincerity was a liability and not an asset.
He shrugged
off the bothersome thoughts and comforted himself with the words.
'Everyone is doing worse these days'.
He remembered Alhaji Sambo who he
did business with, the man just took a fourth wife, a 12 year old. No
one as much as batted an eyelid when they saw it. They assuaged their
consciences with the lie that 'his customs allow it, let's live and let
live'.
He wished for simpler days when all he had to worry about was if
he remembered to spend time with His God?
He shrugged and caught
some shut-eye before the next meeting to fulfill his goal of success. He
stretched out his white 'dashiki' clad body and stretched to catch some
sleep in the popular Lagos traffic. Bako would wake him up as soon as he
got to the VIP lounge of the Lagos airport.
