In the beginning days of the Buhari administration, hopes were so high that the new government had to stylishly manage expectations. Perhaps realizing that after the do-or-die elections, the task of governing and delivering was even more daunting than the rancorous elections itself.
No doubt almost everyone spoke of the President’s unmistakable body language, howbeit grudgingly in some quarters. So, the president is no nonsense; he doesn’t care whose ox is gored; he even had his in- law arrested over an attempted swindle; he arrived Downing Street in a simple car and left even more unceremoniously. We heard all sorts of reports from the regular news media, the grapevine and this being Nigeria, some sworn eye witnesses. But the message was the same, which is that the new broom in Aso rock would not compromise on anything unethical or unprofessional or any misconduct in governing. I recall that the sudden turnaround (for good) in electricity immediately after the elections, was attributed to the president’s ’body language’, rather than any act or policy of his.
So expectations were really high, and that all Nigerians agree with. Nigeria’s miraculous turnaround for the better had finally come. Or had it?
A year (give or take) to the new broom’s resumption at Aso rock, I decided to renew my international passport and Drivers license. Only I didn’t know what to do. The last renewals (like the one before that) had been ‘facilitated’ by third parties who knew someone at the immigration office and the FRSC. This time around I had changed locations so I didn’t have the advantage of any known and trusted third parties (haven’t we all heard of third parties from hell who disappeared into thin air with your money and papers).So I turned to a colleague to give me the no. of someone who assisted him to renew his international passport. Alas he had travelled but he gave me another contact. By then I had grown discouraged, I wanted (like most Nigerians) someone who could be trusted and who would deliver fast. So I bided my time. Until a cousin came in from the US with his 4 kids and he needed to renew all their Nigerian passports.
I gave him the contact of my (yet untested) contact. They spoke on the phone and my Cousin was impressed. My cousin informed me, the contact had told him the 32 page passport was not available, but the 64 page was available (not news, this has been the accepted information from last year). And that Monday (5 days from then) he could come do his renewals. My streetwise cousin thought he sounded genuine and was ready to play. Only it wasn’t to be. The following day, my cousin called and told me to meet up at the passport office. As he explained when I got there, a friend heard his conversation with me and simply called a lady right away who gave an appointment for the next day. We chatted and watched his kids hop happily around, seemingly without a care in the world. He told me musingly how the twins (his last two kids) American passport had come while his wife was still recovering at a Seattle hospital. ’I came here this morning, and decided to ‘test’ the process’, he narrated. ’After 15 minutes of asking for directions to which office, I called my lady contact, she came out to meet me and immediately she started the process. Should it be this difficult to get your passport renewed’? He asked me. ‘I mean the fact is the chaos in this place doesn’t even give you a clue how to start the process.’ ‘Welcome home’ I said patting his back. Eventually the renewal took three days because one machine had malfunctioned and had to be fixed and even the fixing was not defined. So my cousin had to hang around the Passport office as summoned by his ‘lady helper’.
The good thing was the kids weren’t a bother. They loved the chaotic Lagos scene and relished the local menu. Yam flour, semovita, okro,vegetable,ogbonno (which was a relief to me, knowing what a continental meal at a swank Lagos eatery would cost me). On the third day, as my cousin’s American born kids delighted in boli and epa (roasted plantain and groundnuts), my cousin joked, ‘you can take a Nigerian out of Nigeria, but can you take Nigeria out of him’?
So, what of the drivers’ license? Well another contact I had been given specifically for this also refused to pick up his line. My colleague told me, ‘he’s a very busy man, call him early before 7am or later after 7pm’. Still he would not pick. Mercifully, after mentioning it to a contractor at the office, he explained to me how he renewed his driver’s license. Simple, log on to the site, fill in your details, get a ticket no. and go to the license office. I did all he said but then found out I could not pay simply online. I had to visit a commercial bank which styles itself as the nations ‘start’ bank, where I had to fork out four hundred and fifty naira extra as ‘charges’. I was simply ignored when I asked why I had to pay some charges to pay into an account especially as the online transfer wasn’t operative. Anyway, rejoicing that a major change had hit the renewal of driver’s license in Nigeria, I sang all the way to the license office armed with all my documents and photocopies. It was a relief that Nigeria had finally joined the League of Nations where these mundane renewals would no longer be a headache.
At the license office, a pleasant looking FRSC lady directed me to the front desk officer, who was very polite and prompt in sorting out my papers, howbeit after waiting for about thirty minutes. Next he directed me to a ‘clearance’ room where the authenticity of my papers would be verified. There I met a long line of people who had come to collect their licenses. The ‘lady Oga’ in the room tried to calm everyone down, relaying some incident with the computer at Abuja; which was either implausible or routine (this being Nigeria).’ Since September last year’, a gentleman fumed to me, ‘I snapped the photo on same day with my wife, she has collected hers, why is mine still pending’? ‘Must you even snap photo at every renewal’, another man asked angrily. I waited patiently.
A man checked my papers, keyed some information into the computer, looked at me, looked at the computer and smiled. I smiled back. ‘Confirmed’, he said. ‘Please pay five hundred naira’, he said. ‘Five hundred, for what’, I asked confused. ‘Processing fee’, he replied. I stared at him dumbfounded. Then suddenly, he stood up, collected my papers gave to the oga madam, who signed on it, all the while restating her earlier story about how a computer in Abuja was responsible for the delay in issuance of pending driver’s license. The clearance officer gave me my papers and directed me to the VIO’s office.
I barely sat down at the VIO’s office, when I was told to pay one thousand naira. ’For what’ I asked aghast. ‘Testing fee’, a woman replied. I stared at her. ‘It’s better you pay now, by next week, it will be one thousand five hundred naira’, she said to me. I paid up, upon which she gave me a CD on safe driving but no receipt for payment. The man dressed in VIO uniform brought out a paper on which was questions for me to answer. The ink on the photocopied test paper was so faint, I joked aloud that if your knowledge doesn’t fail you, the barely visible questions would, at which we all laughed. I did the best I could, upon which the VIO officer scored me ten out of ten. ‘Go to the FRSC for capture’, I was told. Grateful like an escaped lamb, I proceeded to the FRSC section.
So far so good. I had spent only about 2 hours. I ended up back in front of the pleasant looking FRSC lady, I met when I first walked in. She took my papers, looked at me, and looked at the paper again. ‘go photocopy all the papers’, she said to me. I did. She said, as she wrote on the photocopied papers, ‘you have to come back next week for capture’. ‘But why’ I asked aghast. ‘Oga sorry a lot of people are before you, besides the person doing the capture is yet to report to the office today’. I looked at my wrist watch; it was 10:30am. I collected the photocopied papers on which she had signed and made my way out of the license office.
‘What did you expect when you wanted to do things the right way’, my friend asked me when I narrated my experience. ‘If you had coughed out twenty-five thousand naira, you wouldn’t lose sleep over this’. I suppose my crime was paying the advertised amount of ten thousand naira (eleven thousand, four hundred and fifty, if you count the testing fee and bank charges).
Are our government executives so far away from everyday realities of obtaining certificates, licenses, and passports in Nigeria? It would largely appear so!
A good way, the minister of transport to send a trustworthy plainclothes official to the license office to apply for a drivers license and to keep a journal of his experiences. Ditto for the minister of internal affair, for an international passport. That way they get the real gist and not what their aides or ministry or agency officials feed them with. And I suppose we Nigerians should cease to depend on ‘contacts’ to facilitate these things. But like a colleague said to me, ‘can you afford to be away from work for three days without leave because you chasing your international passport renewal? That could be the million naira question.
BR/Ayo
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