Femi Akintunde-Johnson
A caveat is in order here: the story of Yeside Zubair’s current misfortune which triggered a flashback 10 years away is actually situated in 2024 (and not 2014). Therefore, it bears repeating that…”It is not as if Yeside Zubair is docile, lazy or unintelligent. It just so happens that she is completely helpless nowadays – unable to feed her family, send her children to school, clothe them in decent garments to attend Sunday school…and so many things a mother desires for her children. She is mortified at the speed her fortunes have nosedived within a few months, and the prospects for a positive reversal seems unlikely…”
Today, as we speak, her “sweet-toothed” shop that used to ooze tantalizing aromas amidst throngs of demanding pot-bellied customers jostling for the hottest – and ‘meatiest’ – roll of shawarma, now looks like a butcher’s kiosk after a six month lockdown. Getting her preferred stock has become frustrating and beyond her calculation…it didn’t make sense to her anymore: “Kilode!? Are they not just frozen chicken?” The object of her sudden amazement was the sporadic spike in the cost of frozen chicken which makes the principal source of the ingredients that turn her shawarma into a gourmet’s delight.
When she started the business ten years ago (in 2014), chicken were not only affordable, they were healthier looking and handful – for just ₦650 per kilo, and about ₦6,000 for a 10kg packet. Even when the government had their usual brainwave, and stopped the importation across the borders, you could still get a packet of chicken breast or filet for less than ₦10,000. Today, you would think the product was imported from the border town between Russia and Ukraine. You would need more than ₦3,000 for a kilo, and ₦29,000 for a packet…. A carton of Orobo is well over ₦40,000!
So, how much could you sell a shawarma that needs a kilogramme of chicken to make it a proper bunch? And then add the cost of other ingredients: cayenne pepper, unsweetened yogurt, vegetable oil, hot dogs, mayonnaise, ketchup, sugar, salt, garlic, bread pockets, cabbage, carrots…and all other ‘medemede’? You risk eating your shawarma by yourself if you try to cut out some of these ingredients which look simple enough, but are now so prohibitive in our markets. Yet, we have not added the cost of fuel to power the grills and freezers. We have not added the cost of electricity – even when the DISCOS often give us blackouts than what we pay for. Good enough, we have their so-called ‘free’ pre-paid meter which we struggled through all sorts of bottlenecks to acquire – at least, we can determine how much we want to pay for public power. Years earlier, we were at the mercy of shylock electricity officers who feasted on so-called estimated bills that were basically concocted at their whims.
Yeside heaved for the umpteenth time as she surveyed her abysmal surroundings while ruminating on the past two months. When others were shouting “Happy New Year”, she could not join them…she didn’t even pretend to flow with the festive atmosphere. She had just found out that Alex, her troubled husband, was not missing, after two weeks of not coming home. She had been to several hospitals, morgues, and the usual police stations, to see if he was involved in any accident or fracas. She even had to fill a ‘missing person’s form’ after four days without any knowledge of his whereabouts.
Few days ago, after one of her more compassionate customers sent her a ₦1,000 airtime recharge, her phone received a WhatsApp message notification. And the damning riddle unfurled in all its shameless glory… the message was brief and brutal: “Please, don’t look for me o. I’m on my way to Chicago with my beautiful destiny helper that God used to rescue my life from hijackers of fate. At least, you have one mouth less to worry about, and you can have all the time you like with your shawarma lovers. Take care of the children. Bye forever. Alex”.
Yeside woke up a few minutes after reading the text with water pouring all over her face. She didn’t realize she was crying…then she saw her plump landlady bringing a small bucket of water – “Ah…Alhamdulillah! You’re alive,” the older woman exclaimed after seeing Yeside sitting upright on the floor. It then occurred to Yeside that she had fainted upon reading the message from Alex. Suddenly, tears – not just water – trickled out of her eyes, as she showed the message to the older woman. She sighed, after reading, handed the phone back to Yeside and hugged her tightly: “Be rest assured that your God will make a way for you…don’t worry, just focus on your children and whatever you can do to maintain them…what is hard now will later become soft sooner or later…asiko l’oju (it’s a matter of time),” the woman hugged her more, and led her to a chair.
That was how Yeside celebrated the New Year…in excruciating agony and hopeless longing for some sort of reprieve. Though Alex was not contributing much to the family upkeep, he was at least there to complain to…banter with…and grumble about the irresponsible actions of traders, government officials and political leaders. Now, the children have been kicked out of school; they are between six and nine years old and cannot fend for themselves. The business has nosedived calamitously on account of thoughtless and divisive policies of governments at all levels – federal, state and local governments… not to mention the non-state actors whose brazen actions suggest collusion with official quarters.
Soon, very soon, the house rent would be due…though the shop is on a longer lease… Does that mean they would have to be living in this shawarma shop!? She cried more plaintively…looking at the ceiling…seeking some divine wink to remind her she can live beyond tomorrow.
This is the end of Yeside Zubair’s story, but it’s not the end of the horrifying circumstances and situations of millions of ordinary Nigerians like Yeside whose determination to keep their families in one piece as they peacefully pursue every legitimate means to make a living…while government’s actions and policies appear as if taunting and making mockery of the efforts of average Nigerians with similar circumstances.
Nigerians watch in consternation as senators boast on live TV that humongous amounts, running into hundreds of millions, were somewhat shared to their privileged colleagues…and we are expected to wait for another 12 months to confirm if the huge sums have not been fully utilised for projects within their constituencies. In the indolent minds of such shameless and clueless political opportunists, it is somehow justifiable for an individual lawmaker to take possession of hundreds of millions of naira – even as massively undervalued as naira is today – and turn himself to a contractor, tender board, quality auditor, accountant, supervisor, and all what not, in pursuit of equitable constituency projects…and simultaneously be able to make sensible and proactive laws for the all-round development of the country.
Oh, Lord, when would we be rid of these insensate, delusional, self-absorbed and entitled cretins who call themselves leaders…so that the average Nigerian can breathe without suffocating?
