A few months ago, a man came into my office premises desperately needing a driver’s license. Everyone told him it wasn’t possible to get one immediately because of the mandatory procedure. He looked very unhappy but most people didn’t care. Looking at him and the way he was dressed, I was sure he was a soldier. When I asked how I could be of help, he said he wanted a driver’s license so he could get his salaries, give money to his wife and return to Maiduguri.
I asked him if he had a National Identification Card because he could use that too. He said he had been to the National Identity Management Commission (NIMC) but he was only given a temporary slip and told to return after a week to secure his National Identification Number (NIN). I asked if he had an International passport and he replied that he didn’t. It was about 2:30pm and had just 24 hours left to report to Maiduguri yet he was going to spend two days on the road. Which means he would be charged for AWOL (absent without leave). He called his superior who instantly told him he was on his own. I felt really bad for him. His wife kept calling and complaining that he was on pass and he didn’t even spend a night with her. The young soldier was confused. He looked at me and said ‘auntie, please help me’.
He had only N1,000 on him and he needed to get an identification and change of name done with only one hour left. I took permission from work, went with him to the bank and asked to see the bank manager. I pleaded that he allows the soldier write a letter of authority that would allow me bring his NIN and change of name so his account could be fixed and money transferred to his wife. The manager was reluctant but he eventually agreed. I called a friend working in a newspaper house and transferred money for the change of name to him. I called my cousin who works at NIMC and he promised to help me get the NIN the next day. I gave the soldier some money for transport so he could go home and a little extra to give his wife.
I looked at him and said, “make sure you touch that woman before you go back to Maiduguri”. He laughed and banged his leg, shouting, “She go hear am”. He left to see his wife and after about three hours he called. He was already at home. The next day he called that he was spending the day with his wife. It took me two days to get all the information and I headed to the bank. I sorted out all the issues and he got his salary alert on his way to Jos. He called me thanking me. He made transfer to his wife after months of no pay. His wife called me, thanking me and praying.
Today, she named her daughter Precious Adejoke—a Hausa baby with a Yoruba name. I can’t help it. I am a godmother. That money was what she used to pay for drugs when she found out she was pregnant. She said if I didn’t help her husband, the pregnancy and birth would have been on debts. Yes, we make policies in Nigeria but we forget to consider these guys who endanger their lives to keep us safe. The grandfather has just gotten off the phone praying for me. What a way to end the year. I have baby precious in Niger State…”
