They tell me I must not only pay my own levies but also whatever the previous tenant failed to pay.”
“That’s right, that’s the tradition,” I said, a little too quickly.
“O. J., please don’t tell me you agree? . . . . It’s a backward principle and you know it!”
“This is Nigeria!” I shot back.
“This is Nigeria! This is Nigeria!” he mimicked. “The universal answer to every objection to the way things are done. . . . O. J., sometimes I don’t know how seriously to take you.”
“That makes two of us. Sometimes I don’t know how seriously to take myself.”
“I mean, soon you’ll be telling me, Nigeria: love it or leave it.”
Taiwo took up the line: “Nigeria: loot it and leave it . . . .”
“Nigeria: love it and loot it . . . .”
“Nigeria: loot it—and love it!”
“Or,” I said, “Nigeria: love it—and leave it? . . . By what scale do you measure tragedy?”
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“Tragedy is immeasurable,” said Ogbuagu.
“Incomparable,” said Taiwo.
“Absolute,” I said. “And so is laughter. . . . Lighten up, you two!”
Another pause. Then I picked the thread back up.
“Our ancestors practised this backward principle, and it worked very well. We are our brothers’ keepers—as well as keepers of our sisters’ children in some parts of the continent.”
“Yeah, that was in the past,” retorted Ogbuagu. “The village was then the political unit. Everyone knew everyone and could speak truthfully about them. Every extended family or clan could control its members and keep them responsible in their actions. Theft was rare, and the swiftness and severity of punishment was a powerful deterrent. Murder was even rarer: if you took a life, you likely paid with several lives.”
“Those days are gone,” said Taiwo. “We are now in a nation of strangers. Imported values have confused our fundamental values. You don’t know who’s who. You can’t even vouch for members of your clan once they’ve left the protective cocoon of the village and mingled with the outside world.”
“So how can I be held responsible for the debts of some stranger I never even met?”
“Now that you say it, I have to admit that it is absurd. But guess what, the Nigerian government sanctions it.”
“What do you mean?
“You are required to pay the electric bill left unpaid by the tenant before you. Same with the water bill.”
“Oh, could that be the bill my wife was handed the other day? It had some name I’d never heard of. I threw it in the trash.”
“So you see, your enlightened and creative residents association is only following government’s bad example. This is Nigeria!”
Ogbuagu was somewhat chastened by this news. Taiwo tried to comfort him. “It’s an imperfect world, trust me,” he said.
But we weren’t quite finished with the residents association. “Traffic to your place is simply horrendous,” I said to Ogbuagu. “Will the association do something about it?”
“No. But, really, it’s no worse than other parts of the city.”
“The gridlock at your two major junctions is incredible,” said Taiwo. “I spent two hours trying to get through them. Remember I told you I won’t attempt visiting you again for six months. I can’t suffer like this but twice a year.”
“I’m sure your people can afford to station two Yellow Fever traffic wardens at each of these two junctions at least twelve hours a day. One misfortune we fail to take advantage of is our high rate of unemployment. Labour is plentiful, and affordable.”
“Yep, any state or city that really cares can station two Yellow Fever at every major junction round the clock.”
“And what a miracle that would perform on our traffic . . . .”
“And on our tempers.”
“You’ll get through any junction, however busy, in a minute or less.”
“We might even begin to work on teaching drivers how to drive and enforcing traffic laws.”
“Yes, the President’s ‘rule of law’: it makes absolute sense.”
“And while we are at it, why won’t your association try installing some traffic lights?”
“You are not serious. We are not plotting a coup! We don’t wish to replace the local or state government. In any case, traffic lights depend on steady supply of electric power, which this nation does not have.”
“But I’m sure our engineers can provide some ad-hoc solutions if they set their minds to it. For instance, can’t individual solar-powered cells support traffic lights at major junctions?”
“I’m sure our engineers can,” said Taiwo. “What’s missing is motivation. I heard what miracles Biafran engineers performed in the bush during the war. But they had motivation.”
“But that was war!” said Ogbuagu.
“What do you think this is? . . . But of course the people’s power is in the hands of their elected representatives. If they devote every round of four years squabbling and don’t even realize we are at war, then of course the nation continues to stagnate, or regress. This is Nigeria! . . .”
• Concluded
Onwuchekwa Jemie
