A Day in Dei-Dei

Metropole searches for new Naira notes in Dei-Dei

We all love crisp, new notes. Well, most of us, if not all. There is that feeling of pride when you flaunt new notes while offsetting your bills at the mall, or tipping the waiter at the restaurant, or spraying them at special occasions such as a wedding.

In times past, getting new Naira notes wasn't too tough a task. All you needed to do was to get to your bank and request for some while making a withdrawal. Most times, they were readily available. But these days, it is such a chore to get them.

This should be strange as the headquarters of the Central Bank of Nigeria is here. But at the moment, the apex bank which handles currency distribution is at the forefront of the cash-less policy campaign which aims to reduce usage of cash. This, I believe, has led to reduction in printing of new notes which has culminated in the shortage of our beloved crisp, new notes otherwise known as mint in Nigerian parlance.

But in the midst of this scarcity, there is a place in Abuja where new bank notes are on offer at a price. That place is Dei-Dei, a settlement between Kubwa and Zuba.

My trip to Dei-Dei in search of mint was an interesting one. Dei-Dei Market is popularly known for building materials. Just before the market is where you find the sellers of new Naira bills. They beckon on you unashamedly. Some literally hawk them. They are positioned in separate spots with bundles and packets of our national currency in tow. I elected to meet the young man who seemed most friendly.

I proceeded to business. After a little over five minutes, I gleaned that a packet (100 pieces) of N50 (which is N5, 000) sold for N7,000, while a packet of N100 (which is N10,000) sold for N14,000. Well, that was what he told a couple of customers initially but seeing that he had got comfortable with me, he asked me to pay N6,000 and N12,000 respectively as against the N6,500 and N13,000 he gave as last price to previous customers.

He didn't have stock of N200 bills, which I claimed was a priority for me. We exchanged numbers so that he will reach me when he has them. He said that banks don't open on Saturdays. So he would reach his contact on Monday. I proceeded to ask if his contact works in the CBN or in a commercial bank. It turned out to be the latter.

I assumed my task in Dei-Dei was complete. I was about to leave when a group of five young men surrounded me and asked me to hand over my phone. One was emphatic that he saw me taking shots. My heart skipped a beat. I had been taking pictures all along with my smartphone. But I was discreet—or so I thought.

Initially, I resisted and uttered words like ''what is the meaning of this embarrassment?'' For good measure, I added ''wetin I dey use una picture do?'' They weren't perturbed. They insisted. I thought I could play a fast one on them by presenting my Nokia phone. One of them just shouted ''Na Blackberry you use snap am!''

At that point, I knew that running away was not an option. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. With weak hands and a humble face, I handed it over.

The chief antagonist was unable to reach my photo gallery. He handed the phone to another fellow who didn't waste time in laying the evidence bare. One of them landed me a slap. I expected that. He accompanied that with ''who send you make you come here dey snap us picture?'' There was no way I was going to provide an answer to that. I made up my mind to see that as a rhetorical question. They deleted five pictures. I was lucky. Majority of them saw it as harmless shots considering that I didn't exactly capture their faces.

I collected my phone and tried to play the incident down with a speech. My tormentor-in-chief wasn't buying that. He stepped aside. He was on his way back armed with a plank when his colleagues gave me the cue to take off. As he took hurried steps towards me, I took more hurried steps towards the bus-stop.

Venussbay Meets Exhibitors from WedExpo!

Despite the security challenges, members of the Abuja expatriate community create time to network and relax, writes Chinelo Onwualu

The cars start to arrive a little after 7pm. They range from jeeps with diplomatic plate numbers to nondescript Toyotas and Hondas. They have all arrived at the BNL compound in Jabi for a game of Ultimate Frisbee. The players come from all over the world: India, Australia, the United States, and the United Kingdom.

The game has no formal structure; players are roughly divided into three teams by the colour of their t-shirts and at the end of the game, a loose rotation of volunteers take charge of the equipment. The expatriate community in Abuja is a transient one and it is not surprising to find a large number of first-time players – many of whom may never come again. The atmosphere remains friendly.

As Mohammed Nabeel, an ICT specialist from Egypt explains, it is precisely this informal atmosphere that draws him to the games.

“The only activity before was going to the gym or a restaurant,” he said. “I was in Lagos for two years before coming here. Abuja is better because there’s less traffic, more green zones and good roads, but there’s fewer places to visit and activities to do.”

He is not alone in his sentiments. The city of Abuja has one of the highest concentrations of expatriates in the country. Most of the foreign embassies and diplomatic missions are located here and many international NGOs that work closely with the government have their headquarters here as well. However the nation’s recent security challenges have limited the range and mobility of many foreign workers. Both the US and UK governments have issued strict warnings to their citizens about movements and activities in the country and many organisations discourage their employees from unnecessary travel – even within the city.

“The security situation has closed the expat networks down a lot more,” said Jeremy Weate, a publisher and consultant from the United Kingdom. “Things aren’t as open as they were a few years ago.”

Still, there are a number of activities for expatriates as well as interested Nigerians in Abuja to enjoy. The Abuja Hash House Harriers is a fitness and social club that meets two Saturdays a month to hike through the gorgeous hillsides just outside the city. Part of a larger international network, this group has a much more formalised structure than most with a core membership and elected leaders. However, it is N1, 000 fee for the hike and N2, 000 for the dinner afterwards. For lovers of the dance, there are the free salsa classes at Ole Tapas restaurant in Durumi on Thursdays and salsa dancing at Casa Linda restaurant in Maitama every Friday.

If all that physical activity isn’t your thing, there is the Abuja Film Club which meets every other Sunday at the Polish Embassy in Maitama. A loose network of cinema enthusiasts, they watch and discuss classic movies from all over the world. For more contemporary fare, there is the Cine-Fridays at the French Cultural Centre in Wuse II, which showcases French and Francophone films for free.

A number of other activities are determined by nationality, language and culture. For instance, the Abuja Cricket Club is primarily made up of Indians, Pakistanis and South Africans for whom the game is much more culturally important. The Russian Speakers is open to anyone from any nationality as long they share a knowledge or interest in the language while The Thai Citizens Association is limited to expatriates from Thailand or those with a Thai background.

A popular activity for expats in the city has always been tourism. While longer trips – especially to sites in the north of the country – have been essentially discouraged, a few destinations closer to home, such as the Pottery Village in Bwari and Gurara Falls in nearby Niger State are still popular. However, many complain of poor maintenance of these tourist spots.

“I have been to a lot of different places: Kano, Lagos, Port Harcourt,” said Shankar, an Indian IT consultant who has lived in the country for the last three years, “There are a lot of places to see, but the Nigerian government doesn’t do what it should.”

Because the expatriate community in Abuja tends to be very transitory – many expats work in the country on short-term contracts of no more than a few years – knowledge of most of these activities are spread through word of mouth, often via the recommendation of friends. Interested participants can find information about any of the activities mentioned through groups on Facebook, though many of them are closed to the public and require the recommendation of an established member to join.

Other great resources for activities include the blog Inside Track Abuja, which is run by Aracelli Aipoh a writer and long-time resident from the Philippines, and Internations.org a social media website for expatriates around the world. Abuja users can create Facebook-style profiles, add friends and visit the forums to chat and ask questions.

Living in a foreign country can be a lonely experience and many expats in Abuja are simply glad to find opportunities to meet new people – regardless of the activity. Nick Falco, an American development specialist, notes that while he is primarily a runner, he looks forward to the twice-weekly games of Ultimate Frisbee.

“It’s a nice mix of expats and Nigerians and a great way to keep active,” he said just before the game. “I’d forgotten how nice it is to play an actual sport.”

That Wizkid Show in Abuja

Empty seats and a late start marks WizKid's concert in the capital

 

The Wizkid Abuja Invasion was billed to start by 5pm. Three hours later, the audience was still waiting.

  Rhythm FM’s Matilda Duncan, the MC, opened the show by 8:15pm, and wasn’t particularly sympathetic, telling the audience “you know how it is” in an accent so foreign it grated the ears. Luckily, the popular deejay, DJ TTB, was on hand to make the interminable wait bearable, playing hit after hit, even throwing in some pleasant South African house music to grand effect.

The first official performer of the evening, the comedian Chuks D General, was successful, as was his colleague, Triple White, both traded on the difference between Abuja’s poor and rich as evident in the seating arrangement which saw N300, 000 and N500, 000-paying patrons seated close to the stage, those paying N4,000 far off behind and N10,000 VIPs seats ensconced in the centre of the hall. 

Noting this class stratification, the comedians mined this difference endlessly, at one point calling females in the regular seats, “Masaka girls.” The few white people, occupying tables of 8 were not spared. Upon asking one how long he had lived in Nigeria, “20 years” came the reply.  Calling him a ‘suffer head oyinbo,’ he delivered the coup de grace: he turned to ask the girl in his company, “did you pay for the seats?”
Cue laughter. All humour must have a victim.

If the comedians were mostly successful, the singers were spectacularly less so, both on their own terms and as clones of Wizkid. Fortunately, the crowd gathered at the International Conference Centre was generally amiable, offering screams and applause both to the superb and the abject. After a while it began to look like they were selected to fail, so the greatness of Wizkid, who had of himself festooned behind the stage, hovering over performers and performances.

None of the performers managed to convince the audience to sing along; still they must be thankful there were no hecklers in the audience. They were beset only by the uniform unpopularity of their songs, their inadequacies, and an early microphone malfunction.
Faith, of Cool FM, joined Ms Duncan and together they introduced average artist after average artist, as DJ TTB filled intervals with thumping music. It would be 10:15pm before the first artiste anyone knew anything about came on stage. 

Gandoki, decked in polo shirt, jeans and sporting a considerable paunch, started by explaining his flight was delayed by five hours and then launched into a jokes about the nation’s whipping boy ministry— the aviation industry and its planes—employing his brand of physical comedy to demonstrate how a particular Aero Contractors airplane moves ‘like a dove.’ He asked if anyone knew the particular plane, saying it is mainly Benin to Lagos but sometimes gets flown to Abuja. No one knew; everyone laughed.

Funny jokes from more easy targets followed: alcoholism in Lagos, marriage, pastors. Performing in Abuja, he ended with a strange message to politicians about setting limits for banks, churches and mosques before ‘the spiritual go dey fear the physical’. No one could be sure any politician was within earshot.

Many hours later, many empty seats separated the regular seats from the occupied VIP seats, and if the organisers were waiting, hoping for more people to arrive, it was now obvious, it wouldn't happen. 

So, by 10:35pm, as Jaywon climbed onstage, the empty seats were occupied by fans holding regular tickets. Wizkid would be on in a moment, anyone who had come to see some of the other known acts on flyers for the event, like Phyno and Tillaman, knew they had been disappointed. But maybe not by much, since many graduates from Nigerian universities know the antics of show promoters. Big mistake, since the other billed stars who did show up, mainly from Wizkid's crew, just do not have anything near the pull of Wizkid. As a girl said, referring to a singer onstage, "I just don't like him."

Jaywon left and by 10:45pm, over five hours after the publicised time, Wizkid came on stage to female screams and perhaps male jealousy. Looking smaller than he does on television, he sang a bluesy version of “Love My Baby” with a keyboard accompaniment. If this suggested the show would be more intimate and feature live singing, it lied. “Holla at Your Boy” and another hit were mimed. Not like the girls reaching for him cared. 

He then left the stage briefly for Niyola, his EME crew member, to offer her take of his “Love My Baby” and sing a few of her own songs to nothing like the audience’s reaction to Wizkid. 

He returned to sing “Roll It” over his own recorded voice. And then he rendered “Baddest Boy” with his other crewmate, Skales. Few minutes later he abruptly stopped singing and walked backstage as though angry. It was unclear what had happened. He came back out at 11:30pm to sing his duet with Femi Kuti, “Jaiye Jaiye” before announcing he would sing current hit “Caro” and retire for the night. Females in the audience danced vigorously, all reservations forgotten as soon as the beat came over the speakers.

They begged him for another song. Entertainer that he is, he mimed “Pull Over,” thanked everyone and withdrew backstage. Many in the audience looked forlorn. Maybe they were thinking of how they had waited for over five hours for a performance of less than 50 minutes.
Or maybe they just missed Wizkid.

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Look out for "And Wizkid Was Here," a blow-by-blow account of the show.