| Big Boy Benji! |
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| Written by OZMAN, A Nigerian in America | ||||||||||
| Monday, 03 November 2008 00:00 | ||||||||||
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After spending donkey years here in the States, it was time for Benji to make the long overdue trip back home to Naija (Nigeria). As anyone who has visited the motherland recently can attest to, it is no small feat and certainly not one to be embarked upon by those with lean pockets. Benji however was confident he would do just fine. This perhaps was the sole motivating factor that drove poor Benji into financial crisis; mirroring the present recession we all seem to be facing these days. And this is where the story begins. Benji is the son of a retired village headmaster but after spending most of his formative years in Lagos he was quick to expunge that part of his background. Instead, all one would hear about were references to his ‘well-to-do’ Uncle Mike who had helped raise him and sponsored his college education. For this, he was eternally grateful, but knowing his background the way I did, it really irked me to hear him constantly rave on about his uncle, leaving one with the impression that perhaps he had lost his parents earlier in his life. If I was less than approving of this reinvention, I kept it to myself. After all, ‘wetin consign agbero wit overload’? (It’s his business). The much publicized trip finally arrived and as a true Naija (Nigerian), I didn’t hesitate to send him with a package for ‘my people’. The way Benji shopped, you would imagine it was for a new high profile job he had just landed. All my well intentioned expressions of concern for his finances fell on deaf ears. It was as if he was in another time and place. All I constantly heard was ‘dem go bow when I reach las giddi’ (Lagos, the commercial and social centre of Nigeria). It was reminiscent of the 80s when the cool kids were called ‘oppressors’ by their ‘slacker’ friends. Needless to say when he called to tell me he was finally at the airport on the much anticipated day, all I could say was “dem go bow”. I could picture his fat head smiling like a buffoon while doing his ‘big man waka’.
Well a few weeks later, guess who should come knocking? Benji! You can imagine what my first reaction was -“Big boy, you don come”? His response led me know all was not well. Thinking perhaps there had been a loss of a dear one, I could only laugh out loud when he said ‘my sista Najia harsh o!’ I goaded him along nicely - aferall- who no like tori? I got us drinks, fully expecting this to take a while. As he started to relay his experience, it appeared to me that Benji had never heard the expression ‘no condition is permanent’ or how else can one rationally explain why he was so vividly puzzled by all he saw at home. His PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), which seemed an accurate diagnosis at the time, and possible lesson in humility occurred when he visited Tade, an old high school mate, at his office. In his words, he remembered Tade as not a particularly bright student; he was frequently reprimanded for tardiness and overall was not in the in-crowd. So it was against that backdrop that he arrogantly imagined Tade would only be too happy to play host.
He arrived at the office -a rather prestigious bank- in Victoria Island and fully expected Tade to be in some cramped cubicle with files strewn all over the place. It was a complete shock when Tade’s secretary ushered him into an office so grand its sheer size dwarfed his apartment in NYC! In his still very humble way, as Benji recalled, Tade meekly told him he was now VP at the bank. Now this was double jeopardy! Lunch was at a very flattering restaurant and Benji only recalls trying to field questions about his own business as best as he could without sounding too ‘oppressed’. Truth is it was pretty clear at the end of their meeting that if either one was left ‘impressed’ or ‘oppressed’, it certainly wasn’t Tade.
Another experience he relayed involved a ‘small girl’ (a young impressionable lady) he met. This one I could tell really affected his psyche. At a bachelor’s party he attended while in Lagos and as is to be expected, he was introduced to a nice girl. Recognizing that this was perhaps going to be one if not the only avenue he would have to impress anyone in Lagos, he immediately went into ‘American wonder’ mode and more than embellished everything about himself just to impress her. Of course she was interested and they made a date for the day after. Benji aptly dressed the part and was sure she’d be an easy catch. They planned to meet at a night club and he was very impressed when she was on time. She looked a tad bit overly dolled up but he reckoned she was equally trying to impress him. It was a fun night and he lavishly spent more than he planned buying drinks and ‘suya’ (beef kebab). When he had clearly had enough, he asked if she was ready to leave with him. You can imagine all the plans Benji had for this small girl. ‘Where are you staying’? She asked and to which he replied ‘oh just off Ikorodu road’. When she pressed him further he replied Onipanu. That was the final nail in the coffin! She obviously felt that by his zip code he was not ‘correct’ enough for her to be wasting her time on so she very skillfully made some excuse about waiting for a friend and asked if he was willing to wait a little longer. His ego had clearly been challenged. Drinks alone drained his now very lean purse and so in a final bid to save face, mumbled something about a business meeting in the morning and excused himself. As a sharp man, he knew what had secretly transpired while he was getting a refill at the bar - another chap had moved in on his perceived turf and flashed more than enough cash in her face. Poor Benji, he felt used and dumped like a dirty old mop. It was simple really, since there was no ‘American wonder’ (no dollars), she’d moved on to a better catch. In my bid to make him feel better, I asked him about his folks back in the village. Surely, if Eko failed him at least he could definitely count on being be the local champion in the village. I assumed wrongly and na here tori ‘woh-woh’ (It is here the tale gets worse). Benji said the small girls there he managed to thrill with his Yankee fibs were too smart for him. By the time he ‘settled’ here and there with ‘suya’ (kebab) and small stout, he was left with nothing. Not wanting to flog a dead horse, I offered him some food and effectively, or so I thought, switched the topic to the economy. It appears this too was a losing topic for him - Benji had lost his job because the company he worked for was downsizing and since he was not a full time employee, it was easy to let him go with a few dollars in hand. Hmm!Share this article on your favorite Social Bookmarking websites
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