11/08/2020
Hmm...me and my journeys, sha!! Na so one day, I decided I needed to go straight to my place in Togo! I think that journey was inspired by too much wahala with power outages in Lagos at the time! So, I planned my journey, told myself I needed no further stress, and I would therefore not leave Nigeria through the ever busy, every wahala-ish Seme Border! So, my option was Idiroko Border, which I had used a couple of times. For me, Idiroko is saner, almost sleepy! And, for this reason of better sanity, the immigration and customs officials at that end seem to be more relaxed and friendly.
So, I faced the even longer trip to Idiroko! Sometimes, longer is just okay! Okay, I had to get to Sango, in Ogun State, before finding a connecting vehicle to the Border Town. I put on my stern do not mess with me face, as I manouvered my way past the touts who are usually present, and willing to assist for a fee. Finding myself in front of the immigration officials, I suddenly realised that, although I had my passport, I had somehow not carried with me, my Yellow Card! Which kin' wahala bis dis, I seemed to be thinking... So, I declared I did not have it, hoping that the fact that my passport was so full of visas would somehow help! By the time I looked up from my involuntary umpteenth time rummage through my bag, I saw the official watching me. So, I too watched him, daring him to say I had to go back to Nigeria! Then, he threw a figure at me; I balked! "For what, na?", I asked. He did not blink. "Yellow Card."
"Ah, can't I just pay something small and pass? I will bring it next time!" He smiled, then he said: " You are a journalist, so I know you know this is a requirement." Hmm...I don begin sweat. I just did not want to part with all that money, especially for a service I assumed would not be entered into the books! "If you are asking me to pay this much, I will get the card, abi?!" He looked at me, as if saying, you are trying to trap me...I know you journalists! So, he was extra calm, as he assured me I would get the card. Then, as a last resort, thinking this was my escape route: " So, you would just give me the card?! And, I would not even take the injection?!" See me doing a victory lap, knowing they did not have any injection, joor!! Scratch that...my victory lap world screeched to a halt with his response:
"Injection? You want it?!" I reacted, "Yes!!"
He left me there for a few minutes and came back with some container. He was now wearing gloves. I just dey look am like say, so no be shakara?! Hey, he really brought out a syringe o, then he brought out some vial and affixed a needle atop that syringe! I did not quite know how to take back all the attitude I had given him! Then, I noticed that the needle was short and evil looking, as if it was my punishment for talking too much! At this point, I am sure it is pretty obvious I have no love for needles! Whenever I hear people say they prefer injections, I know they are abnormal!
That is how that immigration man tapped that thing a few times before sticking that needle in my arm...I think it was the most evil stab I have ever had! To be fair, he was gentle, but the needle was not!! Men, that injection dey pain!!! As I walked past the border point towards the taxi park on the Igolo Side of Benin Republic, I made up my mind that it is better to cry at General Hospital, than to have to do it at any border point!