Nothing beats the sight of a Nigerian big man who thought he had played you, only to end up needing you few years down the line

Nothing beats the sight of a Nigerian big man who thought he had played you, only to end up needing you few years down the line. Especially those money-miss-road specie who struggle to fit their belly inside their shirt so much, you wonder if the tailor didn’t take their measurement. So 2014. Big man wanted to take time out, for the first time in his life to go on holiday with his wife and 4 kids. Never travelled in his life. Passport more virgin than Virginia. Has no time for the paperwork, let alone those of his family. Big man raises the topic with my Dad, and says he wants Dubai. Shocked, my old boy asks how? For all your money, aren’t there better places for vacay? Big man says he hasn’t got a clue, and all these so called better places have too much paperwork involved. My son can assist you, old boy tells him, but you know, you gotta appreciate him well for the effort. Big man says OK, I want Eliza. Fine, I say. I’ll tidy up the forms, ensure your documents are right, ensure no contradictions, and ensure no mistakes. Here’s your charge. You know, I’m doing this given your closeness to by old boy. Big man says “relax, I’ll pay you all that and more. That is money I spend on a weekend in a bar with my friends”. I don’t trust all that talk too much, but well, you’ve seen his bank balance: three bank statements, each with no less than 200m in it. And then, you’re lodged in same fine hotel as him and the kids, drinks and food on him. All that groove make you think you are buddies now, but these are typical big man magic. Entry behaviour. Makes you lower your guard. Then they spin you like okoso. Visa comes out in a week, much to my own relief and exhilaration. “Finally”, I tell myself, “payday is here”. For where! Big man says “ah, all that money, is it not just form you filled for me?” Yepa! I shout. Form wey I fill, come check, come double-check, even triple-check, sotey, my eyeballs come dey dance ojomma for inside eye socket? Sir, is this how you use to do? Big man is defiant. He insists he only has 70% of what he initially promised. I am livid. I tell Popsy. Popsy bellows: “primitive man, how would he know the strength it takes to get these things done! Don’t take what he’s offering.” I keep calm. 2 days. 3 days. On day 5, I’m agitated. Make I no come dey inside water here, soap go just slip enter inside man-pikin eye. The holiday trip I’d booked in Zanzibar wasn’t gonna pay for itself. I blink. I call big man up. “Oga, no vess, send me the 70% like that. I go manage am.” Alert hits the phone in few hours, and I tell Popsy that I’m over the matter. Fast forward to 3 years later. Government changes baton. Contracts don't come like they used to. Big man puts a few business assets on sale. Big man begins to shelf workers. Big man’s clothes begins to size him again. His stomach loses an inch or two. That FAAC money don’t come like it used to. That Government house ain’t accessible like it used to. Big man wants to be friends again. Big man flashes headlamp, and I act like I didn’t see. Big man honks, and I act like I ain’t hear. Big man sees me one morning returning from a run, and stops in my track. Big man asks, “Is that how you used to do? Even if you think you did not get your due the last time, is it why you will refuse my greeting?” Hehe. In my mind, I’m like: It better not be what I’m thinking o. Make e no be say you need my epp again o this man, because it is the snakes of Njaba that will lick your lips. Ewu ohia!