The old man was
amusing us with stories of early 70s Lagos, the Volkswagen factory
where he worked, and the radiance of the Army officers who visited.
“You know that
engine oil that the Germans make? The one that drips in such clear
tones that you almost wish you could drink it?” he asked. Someone said
we sure did. “Well, that was how Babangida’s skin shone back then,” he
said.
He looked around
him, pausing, like a good storyteller, to gauge the reaction of his
audience. A woman sighed and said, “Na wa o.” The man had our
attention, all right. He continued. “The hairs on his hand were so
fine, and the skin so light, that you could see the veins,” he said.
More passengers
bent their ears towards the man. You wouldn’t think to look at his
spare frame, thick skin, and forsaken shoes. But he was someone
important once. He said while Volkswagen Nigeria existed, he was the
fellow you saw when the German manager was away. Or was too busy at the
Bar Beach. “The white man trusted me. He would say, ‘Tunde, take care
of everything, I am going to relax.’ And he would be off for the whole
day.”
I liked the way he
told his story, the lack of drama, in a gentlemanly sort of way. “The
day Babangida came, I was the most senior man around. I met him at the
gate and apologised for the absence of our manager, but IBB just smiled
and waved it away. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, real nice chap.” “What was he
at the time?” asked a banker who had just taken a call from his pastor
and couldn’t stop talking about the man of God. I tried to get the name
of this wonderful Christian but it was impossible without asking
directly. Besides, the story of how Volkswagen worked, the staff morale
and German efficiency, was riveting.
“Babangida was
commander of the armoured corps,” said our storyteller. “He was a
dashing young colonel. They were all so dashing then: Babangida,
Buhari, Yar’Adua. They all lived in Dodan Barracks. It was such a great
time to be in Lagos.” The banker nodded in admiration. “These people
have been enjoying for a long time,” he said. And then the talk shifted
to how the country had been ruled by the same group for too long; how
charmed their lives have been compared to our drudgery.
The conductor was
the only person who was not impressed. He had just parted with N50,
which the police insisted on collecting for no reason, so talk of
authority was hardly endearing to him.
“Dem be thief, all of them,” he said, looking directly at the storyteller, daring him to contradict his assertion.
The old man was
thrown out of his stride. Before now, the conversation had been light,
peppered with anecdotes. But the conductor’s tone had been hard, like
his stony face. Some of those who had listened to the anecdotes in rapt
attention suddenly withdrew, as if they had been caught doing something
shameful.
“I am not defending
anybody’s actions,” offered the man. “This talk is not about that.” But
the conductor was not interested in subtleties. He was like a dog who
had got hold of a good bone and was not about to let go. On the other
hand, the old man seemed to want to avoid any crudities; any talk with
someone so obviously disgruntled could not stick to the niceties of
polite conversation.
“Oga, you wey dey
talk about how another person skin dey shine like oil,” began the
conductor, spoiling for a quarrel, “You for follow thief money now make
your own skin too shine.” The banker fellow must have felt the old
man’s embarrassment. “No be everybody be thief,” he said to the
conductor. “We are even talking of the 70s when you had not even been
born.” The conductor sneered, “How you know when dem born me?” he
challenged.
At this point, the
old man rallied. “You know, the time I was talking about,” he said,
taking time to address his words to the young banker, “Babangida was
just a colonel. He had not become president then,” he said and the
banker fellow nodded in understanding.
He turned to the
conductor and said, lightly, “You see, no be your money make the man
skin dey shine,” he said, “Na nature.” The conductor had lost interest.
‘’Thief na thief,’’ he said.
