MY relationship with dogs is akin to that between the cat and the mouse. Of all the years I have knocked out in this world, I had never in one day shared the same building with a dog until lately. And my hatred for dogs even extended to those who harbour them. I never visited such people.
But the ugly situation in this country has made me to forcibly seek an acquaintance with that much dreaded pet. Two weeks ago, I went in search of a puppy, and my search landed me in the Surulere area of Lagos where I purchased one at a handsome price.
In case you’re a friend, and you are dog-phobic like I hitherto was, you needn’t quiver please. You can still visit me and be sure of your safety. This is because this puppy of mine has a single assignment that has no connection with the harassment of visitors. To better assure you, I have plucked off all his teeth and claws. Does that amount to callousness? No, it is in your interest.
Austerity or no austerity, this puppy enjoys from me, the rare fringe benefits of free accommodation and feeding. He is permanently chained to my dining hall table, and shall keep growing there until the situation in the country improves. Note that the presence of this puppy has nothing to do with defending me from the menace of armed robbers. For one thing, any armed robber who comes to my house will be disappointed at the wretched apartment he will meet. What is more, security dogs are no longer effective in scaring the men of the underworld, not to talk of a toothless poor puppy. My puppy is simply charged with the sole responsibility of tasting all my meals, and for this purpose, he has acquired the name of Food Sampler – Efes for short.
But ladies and gentlemen, here is one big stump between me and my new pet: Efes is fully apprised of the fact that his job is as unattractive as that of a mortuary attendant, and has therefore requested for a comprehensive life insurance before a smooth take-off of our contract. Unattractive? Yes, extremely so! As a matter of fact, I went in search of Efes when it dawned on me that almost everything in the Nigerian market now has a fake brand. These days, it is possible for a housewife to pay for a tin of vegetable oil in the market, only to discover at home that she
has bought Gamalin-20. And may God bless the entire family if there is no dog around to taste the soup before they all converge at the dining table.
These days too, a Nigerian who walks into a chemist shop to purchase ordinary pain relieving tablets may be buying his or her death certificate by so doing. The tablets which may be carrying the correct labels can as well be poison in camouflage. I am reluctantly offering my Efes a comprehensive insurance for his job. I am reluctant because his job, though, lethally delicate, is not all embracing. How, for instance, can he help me when I’m buying something like detergent from a shop? Dogs are never known to feed on soap, and even if they do, it would be difficult for Efes to decipher a genuine detergent from the fake since the packet is always sealed. As a safety measure, I now buy detergent only from hawkers who make it possible for me to see through the nylon bags in which the powder is distributed. However, I never pay for the detergent until the hawker has poured some quantity of the stuff inside water, and proved that it can produce lather.
I cannot trust the genuineness of anything I see now in this country. Not even the water that flows through the tap. Efes is even required to taste my tap water before I drink it. The only thing I have not directed Efes to test for me is the air I breathe. But for heaven’s sake, who is sure if Nigerians are not already planning to come up with a fake brand of God’s own air?
A critical look at the Nigerian market will easily portray almost every product as having a poisoned brand competitor elsewhere. I stand to be faulted. Ask for toilet paper, and you are likely to buy mere sandpaper which can render your anus useless for months. Ask for a tin of baby formula from any shop, and if you are not careful, you may be feeding your innocent baby with carbide or ordinary white chalk, God forbid. If it is a bottle of Schnapps you want, you may never be certain whether it is the real brand you have paid for or Sapele Water until you get home to open the bottle.
If a housewife hastily buys okporoko (stock fish) from the market, she may live to regret her decision on getting home because she is likely to prepare the family a meal of plywood. This madness is most notorious if one takes a peep into the shops of vehicle parts dealers. Most vehicle parts replaced in Nigeria now are strictly at the owner’s risk. The most dangerous are the service parts of vehicles. Take, for instance, the case of engine oil. Car users in the country now face the danger of wrecking their hard-earned cars by feeding their engines with poisoned oil. Information reaching Concord Laff indicates that not even our oil depots are now reliable as they are getting polluted from the source. You can imagine then what happens by the time the oil passes through the desperate and hungry middle men to the unfortunate consumers. By then, all vehicle users must have ended up buying their obituary spaces in the newspapers. God forbid! We all know what happens when a vehicle misbehaves right on the express. What a life!
O God! Kindly come down and deliver your children from this madness.
MEANWHILE
Nigerians who can still afford to do their Christmas shopping should do it softly, softly. Let's not make the mistake of purchasing sorrow with our hard-earned cash, thus moving into the New Year with long faces. Or need anybody be told that Nigerians are not their own brothers’ keepers? Happy survival of the Yuletide turbulence!
POST SCRIPT
Product adulteration has been elevated to such a calamitous height that in the last quarter of 2008, a Nigerian pharmaceutical
company eliminated several babies through their poisoned teething powder
This article, the 4th in a serial, was published in Sunday Concord on December 18, 1983
