23 Apr 2006 |
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A sizzling morning and Abuja is up and boisterous. Cheerful in an old but well-maintained Toyota Crown with a long boot and an even longer bonnet, your correspondent slows through a small puddle before dashing away from the Power House intersection in Asokoro and, racing along the Nnamdi Azikiwe Road, heads for Area 1 in Garki. At the junction leading to the Apo Legislators’ Quarters, a quarrelling couple get on board. So does an intrepid gentleman who’s already sweating in his frayed jacket. The man’s coat says it’s the heady ‘70s, but the truth is, this is the crazy ‘90s; General Abacha is in Aso Rock Villa and this is a freelance taxi run, otherwise known as kabu-kabu. Next stop: Area 1 Shopping Centre on Festival Road. Weave past the traffic warden or ‘Yellow Fever’ who’s already angling for whatever he can get. Give him the signal that says "I’m coming back." Dodge the ubiquitous achaba rider who’s overtaking on the right. Slide into the bus stop and park between two green-white-green taxis. Dashboard clock says it’s twenty-three minutes past seven but the taxi drivers look as if they’ve been angry for at least a full day. Ignore them. Step out and holler: "Area 10! Radio House! Conference Centre! War College! Women Centre! Federal Secretariat! Every drop twenty naira! Enter with ya change-o!" Step back in and wait. The passengers pile in. The querulous two are up front on the limo-style seat. The intrepid gentleman is in the back behind the driver’s seat. Two men and a smart looking-lady squeeze themselves into the back. The door slams, the steering gear goes up into one and the Toyota rolls. Red light at Area 2 Shopping Centre. Wait at the front row. A pack of impatient rush-hour drivers are revving behind as if it’s a racing event. Play that little silent counting game for personal amusement. One, two, three—eleven seconds. Green. But don’t move yet; there’s a hell-raising achaba with one-leg in the air and a toothy grin to annoy the world bringing up the rear of the traffic crossing over to the Area 3 side. "Area 10?" Check the rear-view. Nobody. Ignore the blaring horns all round and run through a red light at Area 10 Post Office junction to avoid the mad rush coming up from New Market. "Radio House?" Check the rear-view again. Still nobody. Cut back speed and gently swing left at the International Conference Centre. "War College?" No answer. "Women Centre?" No answer. So everybody is going to Federal Secretariat. Good. One way; non-stop. Zoom straight through another red light at the War College crossroads since no one is stopping at Women Centre. Step harder on the accelerator and let the old car leap forward with surprising power. Make a fast right after the NNPC Towers and open up again. At last, sweep into the grounds of the Federal Secretariat and make a dramatic stop. Now tip back your hat and turn to the passengers. This run has come to an end. "Oya, make una bring una money." Like it or not, everybody must come down here. * In the same way that Youth Service is compulsory for leavers of tertiary institutions, kabu-kabu-ing should be made compulsory for all Nigerians aspiring to hold public office. This is because Kabu-kabu-ing—that incomparable pastime of private individuals trying to make ends meet by engaging in grey-area taxi-driving—is an experience that instils irrevocable discipline and understanding in matters of contract obligation vis-à-vis the fares due the driver and the point at which the passenger must disembark. If the passenger does not agree to the terms put forward by the driver ("Every drop twenty naira! Enter with ya change-o!"), the passenger is well-advised not to enter the kabu-kabu. Similarly, if the passenger’s destination is not on the route through which the driver would make his run, that taxi is not the one for the passenger. Should the passenger pretend to be deaf, such a hapless fellow may find out in an unfortunate way that the kabu-kabu driver, despite his often placid appearance, may be ready to engage in a nasty fight over ten naira change. And it’s pointless blaming the kabu-kabu man because those ten nairas add up and every time he lets one go, it’s like there goes a part of his flesh. Whatever the case may be, the passenger should realise that when the kabu-kabu reaches its final stop, everybody must come down. There being little sense in stretching a matter that can be quickly concluded with a knock on the head, let it be clear that the journey cannot be elongated beyond the final destination the driver had earlier announced. If a passenger stays a second longer than necessary, the countenance of the kabu-kabu driver will change. He’ll be ready for a fight because he cannot afford to waste turn-around time. He must hit the road and make another run otherwise he’s just burning fuel for nothing. This is the simple lesson some elements of the Nigerian political elite need to learn. They are mere passengers (many of them hardly paying their fares at that) in the Nigerian kabu-kabu nation-state. We the electorate, acting in unison, perform the role of the kabu-kabu driver. We say the journey for this set of passengers ends on May 29, 2007. Any attempt to elongate the journey beyond that point would bring about a change in our collective countenance. So once we reach that date, everybody must come down! It is up to Nigerians to decide, well before May 29, 2007, those we will carry as passengers in our kabu-kabu nation-state. Even those who are not blessed with easy understanding cannot but see the straightforward logic in this.
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