East or West…………

I went to Dubai earlier this year.

I left Nigeria with only my backpack, my intention was to buy travel bags in Dubai and shop for the few things I would need over there.

I got to the mall, the shop where they sold travel bags was manned by Nigerians. Two Yoruba speaking guys.

I pretended as if I didn’t understand what they were saying and stuck to English. I picked the bags I wanted and it was time to pay.

They said there was a tax that I would have to pay on the bags. By their calculation I should pay 100 Dirham extra. I spoke to them in Yoruba at that point.

I said, “Why are you guys being dishonest? The other shop where I bought Jalabiyas and Abayas, the guys kept everything I bought for me and told me to return with the bags to pick them up, they told me I would collect the tax deductions back at the airport and made my shopping seamless. And here you are trying to cheat me. Is it because this is not your business so you don’t care if you made sales or not?”

They turned it to street slang immediately. “Chairman, na the hustle, etcetera.”

It was terrible. I bought the bags at the right price.

When I left the shop, I walked towards another section of the mall and saw another Nigerian, she was selling skin care, nail care whatever. She latched on to me from afar.

“Please come buy something for madam, let me help you with your nails, etcetera.
 

I realized she was Nigerian. I told her I wasn’t interested in her products.

She then said, “Are you in Dubai alone? I can come and see you at your hotel when I close from work and/or take you around for a fee.”

I was shocked. “You have a job, why would you throw yourself at a man just like that?”

Guess what she said, “It’s the hustle, my rent is 300 Dirham a month and I have to pay other bills, I have to save. I used to work in a bank in Nigeria before coming here, I regret leaving because the cost of living here is so high and what I make is never enough.
In Nigeria, I was able to save and take care of my needs off my salary, I am here now and I cannot go home empty handed.”

I sensed the sincerity in her voice and ended up buying a lot of Petra skin care products just to support her.

On my way back to Nigeria as I got to the airport, right from the moment I dropped from the cab, Nigerians were all over me.

“Have you filled your Permission to travel form? you cannot fly without it, you need your Covid card to fill it, if you don’t have Covid card you can pay us so and so amount and we will help you get it done.”

I had all my documents, so I ignored them.

The next thing was, “Sir, you don’t have much luggage, can you help us carry some luggage back to Nigeria?” You don’t need to clear them when you get home, just help us by claiming the bags are yours from here and the bags will be tagged to you. Someone will clear them in Nigeria. We have only Jalabiyas and Abayas in the bag, nothing incriminating. You have a right to carry 23Kg of luggage and it will just waste if you don’t use it.  Please help us, help our hustle.”

I saw them pitching the same line to many other Nigerians. As for me, I like to travel light. Instablog go finish me if I carry luggage out of helping the hustle only to discover na something else dey the bags. I shook my head and checked in.

A few months later, I was coming back from the UK. When I got to Heathrow, I was told I had to fill this permission to travel form again. I usually would have filled it from the hotel but it escaped my mind. I stepped aside from the queue to fill the form. When I was done, I returned to the queue to check in.

A Yoruba lady shouted, “Go and join the queue, why are you jumping the queue?”
I ignored her. She was with her mother and younger brother.

They were behind me on the queue and wouldn’t have caught up with me if not for the form I was filling. She raised her voice and started screaming; the airport security stepped in and told her to shut up.

She kept pointing at me, as if I gave her belle and refused to collect it. I kept ignoring.
She didn’t let it go. She began to speak that fake British accent. I ignored still.

Then she switched to Yoruba and I started laughing. She sabi abuse for Yoruba well, well.

I was raised in Ibadan too but those days had no place in me any longer. Guess what?
She was not traveling. She only came to see her mother off.

Guess who ended up helping her non literate mother all the way from the UK to Qatar and then to Nigeria? It was I.

When we got to Nigeria, her mother blessed me. She said, “You showed me today by your conduct that you were well brought up. Thank you so much for helping me. God bless you”

We all have a lot to do in bringing the greatness of Nigeria back, we can highlight the short comings all we want but each of us must do what we have to when we have to do it to make Nigeria Great Again!

-GSW-