#6
Some things never change
Today I went to the passport office to get my international passport redone. Reason is I don't like the photo, though it was issued just two weeks ago. Heaven knows what I was thinking. I looked like a market woman! The day it was taken I wasn't prepared at all. I look at it now and I think to myself, "Is this the woman I want to be identified as for the next ten years?" (cause after five years, self, you get to do a renewal!)
This time around I was rolling it in a grey suit on a pair of black pants, a striped black and white shirt and a nice scarf. I felt confident leaving the house. Walked with my head held up high, in confident strides. I had a sense of purpose, like my life had meaning. Then I thought to myself, "Yes! This is how a woman should feel everyday."
Unlike the ‘other' picture. Whenever I look at it I feel like I have a basket of fish somewhere I need to be selling.
So I arrive at the passport office oozing with charm and confidence. My cup was half full baby! And all that... I stroll into the office of the person I was supposed to meet. As soon I 'emphatically' explain my crisis, the whole room busted out in a guffaw of laughter. You'd think I just pulled up my shirt and spotted three green nipples.
That was when Mr. A, the man seated at the table across took it upon himself to try and convince me out of it. I got the lecture of my life from a self-appointed-unrelated uncle figure.
"Haba, madam, it's okay now. Your face is clear, now. Anyone seeing it will know it's you."
"It's not about my face being clear. It's about looking like a market woman instead of a professional business woman."
"You don't even look like business woman to me. You're dressed more like a banker"
"Do business women have uniforms? And is being a banker not a professional job?"
"In fact you don't even look like someone that has a job." He continues.
(Great logic there!)
"Whatever. You still don't understand, I don't like it. I want it changed, period." I said.
At this point Mr. B, a diffident soul who had been quiet all along and who I had no business with, and who, apparently, couldn't bear the blatant display of ‘stupidity' any longer opened his mouth.
"You this woman,'" he said, indignantly, "You have nothing better to do!"
My eyes flared wide open and I said, "Don't insult me. DON'T YOU DARE INSULT ME! It's not you came to see and I'm not using your money. You don't even know me, so?"
Mr. A told Mr. B to pipe down and begged me to ignore his statement. Then he whipped out his national ID card and showed me the picture. I couldn't help but laugh. It was utterly murderous! He looked like Mike Tyson had been doing practice punches on his face when it was taken. I got his intention and said, "Well, that's you guys. You don't mind such things, but we do."
"Aha," he said, like someone who just received a revelation, "I see, you're one of those women."
He turned to the man next to me and said, "You see, it is women like this that kill their husbands."
I heard myself screaming, "Oga, I dey here O! No dey talk like say I don comot from your office."
He looked at me and said, "Madam, no be you I dey talk to." And promptly ignored me.
"As I was saying," he turned to the man again, "Women like this make life hell for their husbands. The poor man had to fork out the money for a new passport, and for what? Because his wife insists she looks like a market woman. Won't this sort of thing be the end of the poor man?"
I sat all through the lecture not directed at me. He finished it off with a story about a judge that had to dissolve a marriage because the wife was ‘bad' for the husband's ‘health'. He said unfortunately the man loved the woman so much after the marriage ended he died because he couldn't stand being apart. (Whatever I'm supposed to make of it, only he and his Creator knows)
Some things never change. Nigerians still feel their neighbors business is their concern. I have to mention before the lecture, they earnestly begged me not to waste my money. I guess they felt if they couldn't convince me, they could yab me (make fun of someone in a friendly way) and have a good time at it.
I love our communal spirit. Nobody will ever pass you by when you're in need pretending not to care. I love that even in a big bustling metropolitan like Abuja people still care about one another in their own way. When something goes wrong people warn you. And if they see you making a mistake they try to talk you out of it. And if they see you bullying someone that ought not to be bullied they rally round and make sure you don't get away without a beating or two.
Though it can be misapplied sometimes, I love this about my country people.
05/07/2007
