I have been away.
I know you want to know why.
Or not. Who cares?
But I’ll tell you either way!
Below is one of the reasons for my disappearance. There are some things prayer can do. And some, common sense should do.
Disclaimer; if you think this is about another bad news. permit me to remind you that you are one of the reasons Nigeria is in its state.
And if you think this is good news, you are also one of the reasons Nigeria is in its state.
Don’t give me that look.
This happened on a fateful Tuesday. A Tuesday becomes fateful only when it’s eventful. And this one was.
I didn’t find out until I visited the bank on Thursday, a month after the supposed incident. It was a rainy day because I remember folding the hem of my trousers and tip-toeing into the banking hall. My shirt dripped rain but I managed to get my shivering body under control.
I had finished making the simple transaction of a deposit when a new message accompanied by the SMS alert popped up. I marked them “read” without a glance and stuffed my phone into my pocket.
I was at the office that afternoon listing the goods that needed restocking. And when I was done, proceeded to send them across to one of my suppliers. I told him I was going to pay two-thirds of the sum and complete the remainder in a week. He agreed and sent me the sum.
When I moved to make a transfer, I met a roadblock. The banking app kept displaying “insufficient fund”. I was bemused, thinking that it was my service provider. I refreshed and tried again only to meet the same obstacle. I went to the menu and checked my balance. It read “-1,205,053.75”. I stared hard, but couldn’t understand why my balance was longer and why a minus was prefixed to my balance.
Stricken, I called Abraham. The young man was assigned to be my account officer. He picked up and I explained my predicament. He heaved, promised to call back, and hung up.
A few minutes later, he returned the call and told a story that was vile to my ears, acidic to my stomach, and hyperventilating to my body.
“What did you say?” I asked with confusion, anger, and fear all radiating from my voice.
“Your account was used in taking a loan. A loan of Two Million Naira to be precise. It happened on…”
I zoned out and tried to work out who touched my phone on the day he noted. This bank had an attitude of sending pop-up SMS asking you to take a loan. But I didn’t, I never did, how come?
Feeling Restless, I opened my calendar app and traced the date. It was a Tuesday, the 24th of May.
My brain went into overdrive and in that state, I chided myself for leaving the business account app unlocked—this was for easy access when I needed to confirm a transaction—and berated myself for not remembering.
While thinking, it struck me and I called Abraham again.
I asked him where the money was transferred to, and he said, an online wallet (name withheld). I asked if he could get the account number. He waited a while, then gave me the first three and last three digits.
“It’s a phone number. Check if it’s in your phone…” he said.
My thank you was silent as I opened my phone book and searched for the number. I found it and all began to make sense. He was my friend. The type you make over time from simple gestures of greeting to holding conversations. He is from my state, a place called Nsugbe. And that was all I knew.
His name is Nnaemeka. But most of us called him Emekus. I remember he came to my shop about a month ago and asked to use my phone. Im selfish with my phone so I asked him to share in my data but he showed me his phone and said it was dead.
“What do you want to use my phone for?”
He said, “I want to apply for a scholarship and needed to read the guidelines.”
I wished him luck, unlocked my phone, opened the Chrome browser, and passed it to him.
Little did I know.
I watched him type Dundee dot com into the browser before disappearing to continue my tasks. I remember glancing at him thrice in the ten minutes he used my phone. His features were serious as he jotted things down, I should’ve known but I prayed silently for him to succeed.
Now, I dashed back to my browser and checked the tabs. To confirm my suspicion, His supposed research was on the same date and almost at the same time.
I went light-headed. I didn’t call him. I just went to his office, only for them to tell me he traveled. I waited for ages for the evening to come, and when it did come, I ran to his place and met his absence. They said he’s been gone for three weeks.
That was when I called him. He picked and before I could say a word, he admitted that he knew why I called. I asked why he had to be so mean. He said he was sorry, that he was desperate, and will repay in three months. I was lost for words, so enraged was I that I nearly smashed my phone but then I remembered he wasn’t my phone.
Well, Abraham did something to stall the bank’s actions and I’m grateful. Yet, there’s a pit in my stomach that refuses to heal because of this.
I think the best thing to do now is to stay wicked. And put passwords in every app on your phone because people exploit kindness and it hurts big time.
#StephStories.
© Stephen Toochi.
