The Scammed
Lagos Mumu and the good deal.
I walked with a lift in my steps. My favorite uncle, a journalist, had dashed me a whole of four thousand naira. In a couple of weeks, I will be heading for Plateau state for mandatory service to my fatherland under the NYSC scheme as a “Corper”. I needed to look the part, so I decided to change my phone and my uncle’s windfall was a blessed answer to my prayers. I hurried down to the Computer-Village in Ikeja, the Lagos Sate Capital. IKEJA an acronym for Ikorodu-Epe-Joint Administration, isn’t much of a capital speaking of land mass. For a fact, the whole of Lagos is actually close to just a quarter of Kano State land size. Anyway, I am not here to tell the story of Lagos, that is for another day.
The Computer-Village, which came to be sometimes in the early two thousand as the tech world fever reached its first ever frenzy in Nigeria, is just a jumble of residential buildings hastily and thoughtlessly converted into retail shops and office spaces with makeshift stalls. Any and everything from computer power cable to the most high tech antivirus software were for sale in this Silicon-Valley or better put Copper-Valley of ours. Wannabe phone-engineers, self-trained phone repairers, tech hardware gurus, computer soft ware scavengers, open-market middlemen with no shop or wares of their own called out to potential customers in jagged voices mixed with sonorous tones, and an occasional pull of the appendages of their victim when desperation reached its peak.
I had taken the Ikeja bound Agege bus and impatiently waited for it to reach its destination. Starring out of the 1970 Volkswagen transporter bus, I was already imagining the soft silliness of the new phone against my finger, the bright luminescent screen with vivid colours jumping out at me. The envious look of my yet-to-be-met fellow ‘corpers’ when I ostentably pull it out to use in camp. As this thought flew past my mind, I smiled and brazed up from the onslaught of fulfilment and esteem the phone was undoubtedly going to bring me.
We approached the popular Ikeja-under bridge, accelerating suddenly as a sudden space appeared on the road, imperceptibly a result of a bus held up by LASTMA or Lagos state traffic police officials for flouting one of the many unknown Lagos traffic laws. I was almost giddy with the excitement of acquiring my new phone. I could barely wait for the bus to stop before jumping out of the still-moving-bus. Padding my pocket to reassure myself the whole of my 5,000naira is privately nestled in my pocket, I navigated my way through the traffic of human and automobile alike, making a beeline for the first set of phone stalls flanking the main street of the market. Already the vendors, with their sixth business sense, homed in on my unvoiced intention to barter my cash for a gadget.
Shouts of “Wetin you wan buy?”. “Sagem X-5 and X-7 dey,” a bright skinned, almost albino young boy with a garishly colored t-shirt called out to me. “Motorola Razor dey for small moni,” another young man with an obviously fake Cuban necklace adorning his neck shouted at me as if I was hard of hearing. I smiled indulgently, my face a picture of a king about to bestow graces on his subjects, occasionally slowing down to admire the rows of the second hand or pre-owned phones popularly called “London use”. The phones were all arranged in rows of four, with the screen facing up. Once in a while, the vendors will slap the phones with a dirty white handkerchief to keep off the dust and to seemingly call attention to their wares.
Just at that moment I sighed my quarry. The Nokia Xpress music phone. I lost my poker face as moved in to ask for the price. I had almost opened my mouth when I felt a slight nudge at my shoulder. Angry that somebody had disrupted market ready vibe turned to give the hapless i individual my toxic stare. I was instead angry that somebody had disrupted the market ready vibe turned to give the hapless individual my toxic stare. I was instead met with a welcoming disarming warm smile from a diminutive young boy of not more than twenty-years. He stylishly opened a dangling cross over bag hanging around his neck and filled to the tip with phones of different brands.
“Na phone you wan buy?” he asked, not waiting for my answer, he rummaged through the bag ensuring that I kept my eyes on the different phones held captive by it. Haven succeeded in taking my attention off the vendor’s stall, he quickly asked me to follow him to the roadside as we were blocking the wares of the other phone vendor's stalls. I wanted to look away, but the number of phones I had seen inside the bag and the promise of a bargain had me hot on his heels. Following him to a corner of the market, away from the maddening crowd he asked nicely, “which one you want?,” he enquired, pouring out the content of his bag on a white piece of towel that magically appeared in his hands.
“U get Nokia express Music?” i asked my eyes going through all the phones spilled out on the cloth.
“Haaa, dat wan, I get am,” he answered.
Opening another compartment on the side of the bag, he brought out a leather pouch with a torn edge. Loosening the rope holding the edges together, he spilled the content onto the white towel. There were at least ten phones of different brands and makes from flips to buttoned and touch-screened. somehow , his hand came up and viola! the Xpress-music was nestled in it. My eyes lit up at the beautiful Nokia gadget with music control buttons along its edges and a silver finish lining at the two corners. Yes, finally, my wish was about to come true.
Barely able to mask my excitement, I asked him, “How much?.”
“7,000 nairas only” he answered.
“ Wetin,” I retorted. “Na 5k dem dey sell am, even my cousin buy am last week here and e no pass 5k Mtchew” . I hissed with a poorly masked indignation on my face.
“ Oga, na 6k I fit collect lass,” he said raising his head from the looking into his white display towel, I noticed he was sweating profusely. Taking this to mean he was overeager to do good business, I went for the kill.
“Alaye, 5k last.”
He started to gather the rest of the phones back into his pouch and I perceived our discussion has ended.
“You dey sell abi you no dey sell?” I asked with my hands in my pocket caressing my bunch of new 1000naira notes , poised to grab and give them to him in the event of his acceptance.
He was done packing up by this time but had surreptitiously separated Xpress- music from the bunch earlier parked.
“I no wan sell am I swear,” he replied. “But I never sell market today,” his voice heavy with resignation.
“Guy I dey in a hurry,” I spoke up.
“Ok pay” he answered reluctantly and quickly added, “You go enjoy am o, na good phone.”
I smiled inwardly congratulating myself for driving a hard bargain. I looked towards my pocket as I clutched the 5000note and extended my hand to him. He collected the money and counted it. Meanwhile, I was contented watching him count the money to ascertain its value that I was oblivious to happenings around us.
“Your money complete,” he said pocketing the cash. He reached his hand into his pocket to bring out the phone. I briefly wondered how the phone got back into his pocket since he had it in his hand before I extended the money. I waved off my observation as I assumed he would have done that to free his other hand needed to count the money.
Suddenly a loud noise erupted some 10m from where we were. Some “Agberos” were having a go at themselves and already crowds were gathering while road side food vendors were packing up their wares hurriedly.
“Oga take your phone abeg,” his voiced reached me through the impending bedlam. Pushing the phone into my hand he added, “ego beta make you quickly leave here before police dem go come o.” “I no wan wahala,” he added.
I quickly walked away with the phone held to my thigh as already the whole sidewalk was looking deserted. Swiftly moving through the bustling crowd, I heeded for Ojodu car park to board the bus heading to Berger. I felt some what accomplished. I had the phone I had always dreamt of and also at a good price.
Dia fada,”my inner voice exclaimed. A self-satisfaction smile crept into my face as I secured the front seat of the sightless yellow bus Lagos is known for. I allowed the bus travel some two minutes and couldn’t contain my impatient any longer. Reaching into my pocket, I brought out my new Xpress music. I lightly ran a thumb across the screen thanking my stars and lady luck. Service year go hear am…
Pressing the power button to being the phone on, it gave way all through like I was down on a soft mushy foam. I kept pressing on it and then I noticed a white substance escaping from both sides of the button. I started to sweat. I quickly pressed the other button and was greeted by the sight of the same substance escaping through numerous holes on the phone where the buttons were located, holding it to my nose, my greatest fear was confirmed.
I have been sold a dummy phone filled with fufu and wax. It was essentially an empty phone casing filled to the brim with wax and fufu. I had been scammed of my 5k and painfully was headed home already.
Sometimes between when I handed the money to him and when he handed the phone over to me, he had switched the phone. Suddenly I realize why there was no furore until I paid him. He was working with a larger gang that included the fake fight initiated by the Agberos to distract me and get me to leave in a haste without testing out the phone.
Service year after all won’t hear it! That Lagos boy has become a mark and is after all, not smart at all. Na Mumu I be!
Agbero: Thugs and miscreants found in Transport Parks and Garages in Nigeria
Fufu: Lumpy semi-solid cooked cassava flour usually eaten with soup in the Southern part of Nigeria
