Day 1; My colleague and I
The queue was at its peak. The gates, locked. Some of us inside and others outside (I happened to be on the outside team). If you’re Nigerian, you probably know what that means. If you’re not, getting anything done in this country is a hassle. Licenses, passports, even getting money from the ATMs and in recent times, fuel.
For the average Nigerian, the long lines don’t scare us anymore. It is the loss of the resources we work hard for. Our time, money and strength.
Day 2; Better to go with a Friend than by yourself.
This time, the queues weren’t as long. It was falling short of 500 people. I happened to be around 340 on the list and I wasn’t the last. This was just for my ward. Other wards had their sections.
On this day, it was extra hot. I thought I would melt. They kept us outside the INEC (Independent National Electoral Commission) office with no provision for shade or somewhere to wait comfortably. Because in this part of the world you should be used to the struggle. As we would normally do, people found a way to cope. Some sat on the pavements while others found some shade under the trees.
Day 3; New locations
The cards had been moved to the wards. This new location was somewhere I had never been. So, my trip began. I must say, Nigeria is said to be an underdeveloped country but there are places that are just flat out bad. I tried to imagine myself living there and the thought scared me.
I got lost at some point because my maps weren’t working. In my frantic state, I came across two young lads. I call them my angels. I asked for help and they offered to take me. It took us close to an hour to get there. As usual, I had to join another queue.
My angels waited for me for a while but just as they left they told me my card had been moved to another location. Color me dumbfounded. With nothing left to do, I set sail to the new location. Panicked that I had lost my way again, my angels beckoned to me and again pointed me in the right direction. I really have not done justice to my day 3. It honestly was chaotic but in order to focus on the main point I would leave that story for another day. To my angels wherever you are my heart will always be grateful.
Still on Day 3; By the time I got to the next location they had closed for the day.
Day 4; My final bus stop.
Holding on to the last drop of hope. I tried again. Praying that this time I would be successful. In this part of the world, you honestly need Jesus to stay sane. I stood in line for hours but finally got it.
As a Nigerian adult, I can say having the zeal to work is one thing but being in a system that sets you up for failure is another. Living in a world where it’s not by merit but who knows who can be quite frustrating.
I can’t speak for the times when I wasn’t born. But for the years I have witnessed. The constant depleting of the naira, the “unknown” gunmen, Nigeria happening to friends and family, the military opening fire on unarmed civilians, constant harassment by those who have pledged to protect us and the struggle that has made up my adulting years.
I think of those who live in that XYZ location. Who have it way tougher than I do. I think of those who can barely feed, who have no roofs over their head. I think of my angels. Young boys who are growing up disadvantaged. I think of those doing all they can and still cannot make ends meet. And so, if there is anything I can do, anything to make this country a little better for not just me but for the future generations to come. Why not?
Point of this rant? Please get your PVCs, please go out to vote, please vote wisely. Your vote cannot count if it’s not cast. Your vote does count. Nigeria cannot move forward without you.
There is no such thing as a vote that doesn’t matter
-Barack Obama
