Elnathan John, page 6
her gbedu and will show her gratitude afterwards. Try not to bash the car or forget Sikirat’s things in
the back.
Spare parts are where to make a killing. Nnamdi, your favourite spare parts dealer, knows how
this works. He knows that you have certain customers who always demand to see receipts. He knows
to ask you how much to write, or even give you a blank receipt. Nnamdi and his boy Emeka don’t
care as long as they get paid. You laugh when the receipt-demanding customers stare hard into the
paper to make sure they have not been cheated.
When a customer complains about how expensive the spare parts are, tell them, if they like they
can go buy it themselves. Tell them where they can get it — all you want is to fix the car. Say that in
fact if he buys the spare parts he will lighten your burden. Most people will be satisfied that you are
not trying to cheat and just give you the money. But some are stubborn and will visit the spare parts
dealer. Don’t panic. Nnamdi and Emeka know how to deal with those ones. They will have so much
problems that eventually they will realise that they were kobo wise, Naira foolish. You don’t like
Nnamdi and Emeka, but they understand the business.
To keep a new customer, especially the ones you think will not be stingy, you must impress them.
Fix their problem quickly and tell them that in fact you noticed that three bolts were missing which
you replaced. Tell them the implication of those missing bolts. It is God who made them come
because it might have caused bigger damage. But you are not charging for the bolts, just being a good
mechanic. As they struggle to count the cash, tell them how some mechanics are shoddy like that,
forgetting to put back bolts and all. You are not like that. You take your time and solve both seen and
unseen problems.
When a customer comes the first time and you want to keep them, never tell them how much your
“labour” or “workmanship” is. Tell them, ‘Oga, just gimme anything’. He is bound to be grateful for
all the extra things which you emphasise you did for free; for saving him from his last evil mechanic.
He is bound to be generous. Even if he isn’t, you have already made a killing from the spare parts.
As you work, I pray that God will intervene in your greasy hustle and bless it, immensely.
HOW TO BE A NIGERIAN WRITER
You know the value of books. The process of making them intrigues you. You want your name on the
front cover of a book and, like an earthworm inches through dirt into the ground, you want to make
your way into people’s homes, heads and hearts. I am here to help you achieve that.
The African Writer’s Look
First, you must look the part. It is important to look like an African writer. Find multi-coloured
kampala fabric and use it to sew shirts which you’ll wear to all writers’ events. Or an old t-shirt. You
shouldn’t look like a model or banker. Your precious time is spent thinking of plot and theme and
words, not on dress and grooming. Your hair needs to be unkempt. However, nothing says authentic-
tortured-African-writer like dreadlocks. Please, note that in Nigeria there is a difference between
dreadlocks and ‘dada’. Dada is less refined, naturally matted coils of hair due to superstitious
neglect. Dada is uncool. Dreadlocks are deliberate. They are cool. They make you look wildly
creative. If someone asks; no, you are not a Rastafarian. You are an African writer.
Vice and the Writer
As a writer, you must flaunt your vices. You need to show that you are a flawed character. If you
drink, drink too much. If you smoke, do it at inappropriate times. Show up at an event reeking of
booze. People will understand. People will even understand if you are a male writer who sexually
harasses women. Just call your actions a writer’s excesses. Vices are a tool of the trade.
Now, you have the basic tools: a multi-coloured kampala shirt, cool dreadlocks, and vices. You must
set about the business of writing.
Reading is not synonymous with Writing
You do not need to read a lot to be a Nigerian writer. In fact, as a Nigerian writer you can make
shameless statements like “I don’t really read much”, “I don’t want to be tainted by other people’s
words jamming my own” in public. All you need is a burning desire to write. It is sufficient to have
read Shakespeare and Achebe, and maybe a little of Chimamanda Adichie for contemporary reading.
The only thing you need to really study is a dictionary or thesaurus. Please, note that all Nigerian
characters are Africans who act the same: children are respectful of elders; parents are always
responsible, wise individuals teaching children valuable lessons of life. Characters do not use cuss
words or talk about sex, even when in the company of peers. Nobody’s mother smokes and we have
no homosexuals in Nigeria.
Use big words instead of small words; “discombobulate” instead of “confuse”. How can you
write like a layperson when you are a Nigerian writer? It doesn’t matter how many people read or
understand you. What matters is that you impress those who do.
Use many words. It is always better to err on the side of verbosity than to err on the side of
brevity.
Criticism
Protect your work fiercely and always insist that people give you constructive criticism. Anyone who
points out, rightly or otherwise, that your writing isn’t quite there yet, is evil and an enemy of your
hustle. You must believe that there is nothing like bad writing. After all, you were inspired by the
spirits before you began writing — what do critics know?
Editors
Do not waste your time or money on editors. Editors are failed writers whose life ambition is to
frustrate the hustle of real writers like you. Show your friends your work. But only the ones who are
not jealous of your hustle, and who remind you that your writing is the best thing since point-and-kill.
Find some popular person from your village who will write you a foreword without actually reading
your book. Then, go to press.
Printing
Go to Ibadan or Lagos. Find a cheap printer who can print 1,000 copies without ink smearing or the
pages coming out lopsided. Arrange for a transporter to bring your book home.
The Book Launch
A book is not complete without a book launch. In Nigeria, a book launch is a fund-raising ceremony. It
is not important to have writers at this event. Well, maybe the book reviewer. You need your state
governor (who may not come but will send a representative with a cheque or a pledge); your Local
Government chairman; your Pastor or Imam to bless the event; and any minister, senator or rich
person that you know. It is important to find a Chief Launcher who will encourage others to donate to
your hustle. Do not leave it to chance or the discretion of the Chief Launcher, unless you are sure of
his capabilities. In Nigeria, nobody is allowed to embarrass the Chief Launcher by giving more
money. So, if you can, gently hint that you know he will set the bar high for others to follow. That is
the job of the Chief Launcher — setting the bar as high as possible.
Marketing and Publicity
You do not need a marketer, publicist or publisher. These people eat into your profit margin. If you
have a car, carry a few hundred copies in the trunk at all times. Be your own marketer. Steer
conversation toward your book and tell them you have written this really cool book. Someone will
ask for it and you will tell them to hold on for a minute while you get it from your car. If you don’t
have a car, have a big bag that can carry at least ten copies. Do not be ashamed to carry your books to
public gatherings. Book by book, God blessing your hustle, you may end up selling off the 1,000
copies your printer produced, and maybe even go for a reprint.
Awards
Get an award. It doesn’t matter what. It may be from your church bulletin which you have been
writing for since you were in secondary school or your old boys’ association newsletter. You can
even have friends get together to organise and award you the “Roforofo Prize for African Fiction”.
Then, you can have on your book, ‘Award-Winning Author’. No need to state what award it is. An
award-winning writer is a good writer.
It is my hope that you make it as a writer and have many successful books in the market. And with
well-organised book launchings, you can be sure that God will bless your hustle.
HOW TO BE A JOURNALIST
If you ask me, you have the best profession in the world. And especially as a Nigerian journalist,
even though your bosses never pay you, you have so much potential to make it in this life. I have taken
my time with this one, only because of my dedication to your hustle.
As a Nigerian journalist you must recognise that people appreciate the good work that you do.
That is why they provide souvenirs and other freebies at events. You must collect as many of the
freebies that come your way. It is these freebies that will eventually make you a “branded journalist”.
As a fully branded journalist you wear the face cap you got from covering the Cancer Awareness
Walk on International Cancer Day. You use the fancy pen from the speech and prize giving day of a
British school in Abuja. Your notepads — all seven of them — are from different seminars; you
prefer the one you got from the Section on Business Law Conference. Your flash drive is from an Oil
and Gas seminar — you like the Oil and Gas people because they are not stingy with souvenirs or
food and drinks. Your bag is from the National Conference of the Nigerian Society of Engineers; you
know how conference bags don’t last, so you look forward to another conference this year. You have
white, blue, yellow and orange t-shirts from the unveiling of new companies, product launches and
company anniversaries. Your shiny key holder is from covering the Annual General Meeting of a
bank.
You need branding. To help in your branding process, I am hereby making a call on companies
and organizations to stop being stingy and step up their souvenirs to include jeans, belts and sneakers
(or palm sandals). Wouldn’t it be nice to have it all?
Now you must watch out for stingy people. Some obscure group invites you to cover a
symposium with a dangerous topic like “Curbing the Boko Haram Menace”. You take the risk, dust
your Cancer Walk fez cap and iron your orange 10-year anniversary t-shirt. You reach there and find
to your shock that the high table has only bottled water. This can’t be good. If the high table has
bottled water, they will serve pure water to the audience. But you stay and cover the event, do the
interviews. When the time comes for you to leave, the organizers greet you with big grateful
handshakes and smiles and tell you they look forward to seeing their event on air or in the papers.
Someone gives you his card. They ask for yours. You don’t have a card but you tear a sheet of paper
from the Business Law Conference notepad and write your number. They walk away. Nothing. No
food in take away packs. No “thank you” envelopes. No souvenirs! You think of the money you paid
the motorcyclist to get here; the way you argued because he didn’t think the hall was this far from the
junction; the way you shouted and told him if he didn’t know his way around Lagos, he had no
business being a motorcyclist. Something has to happen to those tapes and interviews. They will buy
all the newspapers tomorrow and watch your TV station until their eyes hurt. They will see
NOTHING. Just like you saw nothing. Because that is what happens to ingrates.
One of your sacred duties as a Nigerian journalist is to connive with the authorities when it
comes to figures of fatalities. Nigerians are bad with numbers and they have bad tempers. If you give
them the real figures of how many Muslims or Christians or Igbos or Hausas were killed they will go
and start another round of killing. So, when 500 people are killed in that village, you must report the
official figure of 16. It is better.
Make no mistake about it, you need to sell newspapers. Good headlines make good sales. If your
paper sells in the North for example and a non-Northern Boko Haram member is caught you must find
out and include his tribe in the headline. “Yoruba Boko Haram Kingpin Complete With Tribal Marks
Nabbed in Kaura-Namoda”. Just like tribe is everything, a headline is everything.
Sometimes you will be fortunate and land a cool job as a senior guy in a media organization. You
will get to anchor a discussion program. Important people will be on your program. You must not do
any research that will spoil your ability to think on your feet. You need to argue with your guest and
interrupt him as much as possible when he is speaking. Butt in with your own views and suggestions.
Nigerians like it when two people are speaking at the same time. They will enjoy the interview. After
all, why be on TV if you can’t say your mind?
If you get really fortunate, and I pray you do, you will be discovered by the almighty foreign
media and they will make you a stringer — one of those guys they phone when they hear we have
been bombed. Then you will be able to sell our bad news in exchange for the title ‘International
Journalist’. Some people may dislike you and call you a snitch that shows our dirty linen to foreign
media. God will judge them. Bad news sells; it is not your fault that you get paid in crisp Western
Union dollars to send in pictures and stories of bombings. Pray to be within driving distance when
there is a bomb or shooting. That way you can quickly get there and do a phone interview and get
paid. The more bad news, the more dollars. Foreigners don’t need to hear our boring good news. It is
a job, and unfortunately, like the undertaker, bad things must happen for you to make money. God sees
your good heart.
And if in the end, to crown your success, a government sees fit to reward your loyalty by making
you their official spokesperson or a Special Assistant on Media, to God be the glory. You must take
this job seriously. Attack free speech and any other journalists who may want to print truth about your
principal. Be creative with facts. Denounce unfavourable reports as fake news and warn people not
to insult your principal on social media. Your principal will be impressed. When finally your
government’s tenure is over, you will have earned enough to take a break, pay for a short course at
Harvard or some other American university and write a tell-all book about your time in power which
will tell everything except how you were implicated in any scandals. Then return to Nigeria and
launch that book to the glory of God and for the benefit of mankind. God bless your hustle!
HOW TO BE A KIDNAPPER
I hope this finds you well. If so, doxology. I am not trying to teach you your job. If you are already
calling yourself a kidnapper or contemplating it, it means that you already have things figured out. The
very reason you have become so popular in today’s Nigeria is that all is not well. I get that. When I
say I hope this finds you well, I mean that in spite of all the problems — some of which have driven
you to this profession (forgive me if you have a day job which you prefer to call your profession) — I
hope you are somehow ok, health wise and all. Because being ill and doing the hard work of
kidnapping can pose a serious challenge. You don’t want to have a bladder infection while managing
an abduction. In short, I am wishing that you are in good health or at least a state of health that will not
jeopardise your business. This chapter is to make sure that you understand me and my needs as your
potential client.
You see, unlike many Nigerians, my head is not buried in the sand. I will not be shocked when
you kidnap me. I will not express anger. I will not even break down in tears. I will not pee in my
pants (except if you kidnap me just after drinking and refuse to let me use the bathroom). I will not
have any of the reactions which I assume you have become accustomed to. (I hope that you have some
experience in this kidnapping business because I would hate to deal with a beginner: beginners panic
and do things like shoot the people they have abducted. If you are new, I will advise you to calm
down. I am not going to be a problem. We can work through this together. Like they say, with God all
things are possible.)
The reason I will be calm is quite simple. I am a Nigerian that has common sense. I also read. I
know how hard things are becoming. I also know how ungoverned Nigeria is. So whether it has
become easier to kidnap people or life has become harder or both, I understand. Also, we both know
the police is not going to get involved under any circumstances except perhaps to make sure the
ransom money is secure so yeah, I am not going to call them. None of my people are going to contact
the police either. If we are going to have to spend money, better to give it to you, than pay for “fuel”
