Every Day Is for the Thief

The narrator’s flight lands, and he’s briefly elated to be home. He mingles among the people at the airport while he passes through customs and luggage retrieval, noting the conversations he gets into with locals and visitors from elsewhere. As he exits the airport, he’s stopped by an official who tries to bribe him to be allowed to leave the airport. He steels his resolve and leaves without paying. Outside, he meets his Aunty Folake, who’s thrilled to see him.

Aunty Folake takes the narrator home from the airport. Along the way, he sees two police officers bickering about trying to stop people too close to one another. Aunty explains that it’s another scam: People are used to being charged money by the police, but if it happens too often, they become angry.

The narrator reflects on Nigeria’s “informal economy,” in which officials and local criminals all take their piece, putting “pressure on everybody” (16). It happens for a third time before he even makes it back to his aunt’s house: the toll booth operator takes a reduced fee without giving them a ticket to use the tollway. He sees it again in the way the local people ask for help while his aunt stops to buy bread, but notably, their requests aren’t demands.

He realizes that the expectations he has for legality after living so long in America has made him a stranger in his homeland. In Nigeria, cash is a “social lubricant,” and worrying about what’s a request and what’s a threat seems like a luxury afforded to outsiders. He notes that this economy of grift becomes punishable only in extreme cases, as in the recent case of Tafa Bolunga, the inspector general of the police, who was sentenced to six months in prison for stealing the equivalent of a hundred million dollars from the people.

The police officers in Lagos can’t live on their salary, and they and other officials look down on people who are too concerned with stopping corruption. The narrator notes that theft, corruption, and piracy have undercut the ability for people to get ahead in Nigeria and for society to improve, which is underscored by the power going out when they arrive at Aunty Folake’s house.

The next morning, the narrator is awakened by the Muslim call to prayer outside. He looks out at the gorge behind his family’s home: What was once pristine is now riddled with buildings and tracts of land. He walks through the house and feels as though it’s much larger than he remembers, especially compared to his small apartments in England and the US. He recalls a passage from Michael Ondaatje about returning home that reminds him of this moment.

The morning after his arrival in Lagos, the narrator goes to an internet café, which changes his perspective on the rampant 419 email scams that originate in Nigeria. Young men typing away at computers to perpetuate the scam fill the café, despite signage warning of arrest. The narrator is first impressed by the extent of the grift, but he grows annoyed by its ubiquity.

He speaks with his cousin Muyiwa about it, who tells him that most of the scammers are young university men trying to impress their peers. They’re known as “yahoo yahoo,” after the search engine popular at the time. The narrator sees them as part of the decay of Nigeria’s reputation, but he thinks that “the swindler and the swindled deserve each other” (27). He compares the scammers to Scheherazade, as they’re rewarded for their ability to tell a story. His cousin tells him that arrests are frequent but end up in bribes that go to the arresting officer.

The narrator encounters a young girl in the house whom he recognizes as his first cousin. They become fast friends. He shares his American treats with her, and she tells him of Nigerian film and music. He realizes that what he hopes for in the future of his homeland is for her sake.