Nothing is more emblematic of corruption in Nigeria than the oil and
gas sector. The long fuel queues, the resultant traffic congestions and
the rampant extortion in the name of ‘there is no fuel’ are some of the
offshoots of such endemic corruption. Sadly, for me, the fuel scarcity
cost more than queues, traffic or money; I lost a woman I loved.
I had been in a relationship with Fareedah for over a year in the
hope of marriage. Since she finished her youth service some times last
year, we had not seen as she stayed with an uncle in Abuja for sometime,
before she got a job. During the 2016 Easter weekend, she visited her
ill mother who was admitted at the University College Hospital (UCH),
Ibadan and I had agreed to meet her there.
Due to financial constraints occasioned by the poor economy, a
function of corruption, I could not visit her. Then I promised her that
since she would be leaving by night bus on March 29, 2016 and I was
expecting some money that same day, then I would catch up with her,
since I had a bike.
When I received the money as expected, I had less than a litre in my
fuel tank and needed a full tank to embark on the journey. First, I
bought black market at N700 for two litres so I would have enough to
queue. Then, the struggle started, with the pushing and the shoving,
from one petrol station to the next.
I searched from Ojodu to Igando to no avail. I even tweeted my
frustration. In the search for fuel across those routes, there were only
two filling stations selling, one at Iyana Ipaja, the other was the
NNPC at Omole. So, I chose to queue at Omole. There, motorcycles were
forced to pay some ridiculous entry charges before being allowed into
the filling station. Sadly, I obliged because, you cannot be right when
the situation is wrong. Later, the attendant informed us that the
Manager had instructed them to stop selling fuel to non-four-wheels, so
he stopped selling to those of us with bike, despite having collected
illegal entry fees.
In frustration, I initiated a protest by motivating other Okada
riders thus: “they want you to come pay money tomorrow again, that’s why
they are doing this.” The video is still on youtube and one of the
video tweets is still pinned to my Twitter timeline @SulaimonRidwan. Although I protested at the top of my voice, nothing happened. Our money was not refunded, neither was fuel sold to us.
Ultimately, I gave up. Since it was just 12pm, I parked in the office
compound and went by public transport. I got to Ibadan at 6:15pm,
thanks to traffic congestion. When I called Fareedah to explain what had
happened, all she said was “thank you.” She was obviously angry. I
could not even get to see her mother because I did not know where she
was, given that the UCH is a huge complex.
Later, she sent me a text message: “If you had left Lagos soon
enough, you would not have been stuck in traffic. I would have seen you
before my bus left the park, I need a man who can be there for me: a man
for his wife, not a slave to his job.”
She subsequently blocked me from communicating with her. I’m now
alone again, courtesy of fuel scarcity. No, thanks to corruption.
Ridwan Adigun Sulaimon is a Programme officer with Media Rights Agenda, Lagos.
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