Nigeria Jaga Jaga: A Nigerian Manifesto in Eleven Declarations

Being Nigerian is having a personal and longstanding relationship with disappointment. The power is always epileptic, so even when they give 20 hours of uninterrupted power, you learn to expect to be without power for the rest of the week. When the government does the people a favor, they wait for the proverbial left hand that takes more than the right hand can ever give. But disappointment is just one of the many lessons you learn in my country. Just like its people, Nigeria comprises a rich assortment of realities dedicated to tensioning, frustrating, and even killing you.

Police is (Not) Your Friend

Whether it is from mothers muttering, “God forbid” when a child proclaims they want to be a police officer when they grow up, the deceptive “bail is free” posters or the way ₦50 notes quickly exchange hands when a police officer is in the vicinity, the fact that police doesn’t give a hoot about you is something every Nigerian learns very early. There is this imperceptible fear and palpable discomfort that settles on the average young Nigerian when they encounter a policeman. You can’t help thinking, “What will the problem be now?” With the Nigerian Police, anything could be a problem.

• If you are a young man with tattoos, dreadlocks, or longer hair, in distressed jeans, or generally sporting a more progressive or artsy look, they label you a criminal, a cultist, or a yahoo boy.
• If you have an iPhone, you are a yahoo boy (or a girlfriend to a yahoo boy if you are female).
• If you have a remote job or a job that keeps you on your computer a lot, you are a yahoo boy/girl.
• If you have all your papers, you could still be in trouble for being so smug about it.
• The worst I have heard was the police calling a girl a prostitute after finding a g-string or what they called, “ashawo pant” (literally prostitute panties) in her box.

With the Nigerian police, you learn that justice can either come by snail mail or speed mail. It all depends on who you are, how rich you are…