EPISODE 51 – A NEW PARTNER-IN-CRIME

Every businessperson has a major motive for doing what they do and usually, it is to make profit. Generally, profit refers to the difference between the cost incurred and the revenue realized in a business venture. Back in University as a student of Economics, I learnt that at the initial stage of business, it tends to be difficult to make profit and as such, the aim of the businessperson would be to minimize cost. All costs incurred (financial, physical and mental) must be put into consideration to determine the profitability of a venture and from time to time, some unnecessary costs must be cut off if a business is to survive. I understand the cost of running the Nigerian economy – payment of the salaries of officers at the three tiers of government and all other parastatals – is put at about 70% of the budget. In my opinion, this is a most ridiculous situation. Why would you spend almost three-quarters of the business funds on administration? If the Nigerian economy was a business venture, it would definitely be bankrupt by now. ECO 101. Class dismissed!

In Episode 49, I mentioned that, at the brink of losing the money that I was yet to even touch, I resorted to bringing my friend, Nuel into the picture. Reason:

Source

Receiving money via Western Union required the receiver to have all or at least one of a national drivers’ license, an international passport or a national identity card. Nuel had the required form of identification and I had none. The bromance was cool while it lasted and he proved to be a good partner-in-crime. He received the payments on my behalf without any hassles and of course I had to ‘settle’ him for his services. It was the settlement issue that was responsible for the ECO 101 lesson earlier. At a point, the cost became unbearable. I was paying him well for his services and Nuel practically became my follow-buddy, going everywhere with me much to my chagrin.

I now had good money to spend so it was always a fun galore every night. My usual hangout was Liberia, a cool spot in my neighbourhood where everything fun you could imagine was abundant – from ear-splitting music to fish and meat peppersoup, barbecue, suya, beer, wines, local gins, marijuana and prostitutes; you name it and you would find it in Liberia. The place was called Liberia because it was a settlement of Liberian refugees and they had taken their future in their hands in the ways they knew how to. I would call a few friends to join me and we would blow some good money. Of course I always footed the bills. Nuel was always with me and on a good number of occasions whenever I decided to take a girl home to spend the night, Nuel would get one too and you could guess who paid the bills again. Before long, I was feeling like a maga and I decided to shop for a new accomplice so I could fire Nuel. There was no room for sentiments and I hid under the great Donald Trump’s philosophy: ‘It’s nothing personal. It’s just business’. Business was for profit and I couldn’t afford to keep Nuel in my payroll. Retaining his services had become too expensive for me.

Like a good businessman, I began to consider the qualities I would want in my new associate. There were a number of factors to consider. At that moment, I had three steady magas who were sure to continue paying for a while, probably until the scales fell off their eyes. There were prospective ones too. I was also bothered about the ‘face’ of my budding ‘business empire’. I knew it was only a matter of time before the face of the model would be discovered as a fraud and the pressures from Miles Peck to communicate with him on webcam was gradually becoming overbearing. He wished to see the beautiful AY he had fallen in love with and how was I to let him know there was no AY? Dean Flank had sent me his phone number and asked that I call him because he wanted to hear my voice. How was I to do that? With my sonorous masculine voice? Hell no! Luke Pine was due in Ghana for his medical conference in a few weeks and had promised to come see me in Lagos. He even promised to send me money to book a nice hotel for us to stay for three days. I had suggested Eko Hotel. Time and time again, I wished I was really the model in the picture. My bright future would have been settled for good! My options were indeed juicy and I could only imagine what it would feel like to be actually married to any of the trio – Miles Peck, an engineer, Dean Flank, a University professor or Luke Pine, a medical doctor. I wished the experience was indeed for real.

I realized however that my days were numbered with these men. I couldn’t possibly keep up with the lie for too long especially with the pressures of requesting to see my face or hear my voice. I began to focus on the future and decided to get a new face to work together with the model, acting as the voice and the webcam face if ever there was the need. BG would have been the most natural choice considering our relationship. However, her pregnancy made it impossible to get her involved. When I initially intimated her about my new line of business, she didn’t hide her fear one bit.

“What? Yahoo-Yahoo!” she echoed in shock. “What if you get caught?”

I had shrugged. “Well, you just pray I don’t. What else do you expect me to do with the pressures from you and your people?”

BG fell silent and I felt lighter pointing it out to her that I wasn’t doing this because I felt like doing it but because she had put me in that situation.

“Geebee, can’t you think of anything else to do meanwhile?”

“Of course I can and that’s what I’ve been doing so far? Whatever I make legitimately can barely cater for me; talk less of considering you and this pregnancy.”

She sighed in frustration and I couldn’t care less. In fact, I found it easy to hate her so much then. Why did she have to get pregnant and put me in such a situation? Her family’s reaction to the entire situation further enraged me, especially her eldest sister, Mrs. Oki’s constant naggings which were yet to cease. Eventually, I convinced her to agree with me in my new ‘business line’; not that she had a choice anyway. She wouldn’t have expected me to go and get money from trees to take care of her and her pregnancy!

When I broached the subject of my ‘face’ dilemma and the considerations, she was very cooperative.

“I can make and receive the calls so long as you brief me early enough on what you guys chat about,” she offered.

I agreed. We still had one more hurdle however. For future magas, I needed to cover the ‘webcam’ loophole.

“But you can’t possibly show your face on the webcam” I pointed out.

Indeed, she couldn’t. She couldn’t even dare venture out of her sister’s house. Her pregnancy was still a secret to most people and I preferred it remained that way.

“Cher can help.” BG said.

It was another ‘lightbulb-turned-on-in-my-head’ experience. Yeah right! Cher had proved herself in the past while we attempted the abortion and she had also helped us break the news to their eldest sister. She was smart and equally stunning. She could not hold a candle to my model but I would simply have to make do with her. Fortunately, Cher came in shortly after and when I threw the proposition to her, she was elated.

“Wow! Count me in. I love adventures like this,” she said excitedly. “I’m glad it’s not the case of another phantom pregnancy you guys need me for this time around.”

I sighed in relief and thought about Nuel who had just been officially replaced. I dismissed the sentiments immediately. The business had to move forward.

I briefed Cher about everything from start to finish. I told her I would get her a drivers’ license bearing the ‘cover name’ and she would be the one to receive any payments from the magas. By the time I stopped talking; Cher had a look on her face I had never seen before. She was staring at me like I was some enigma.

“You are one smart guy, Geebee. My sister is so lucky to have you and I envy her,” she said sweetly. She still had her gaze fixed on me.

I simply smiled and looked at BG. She was smiling too.

I realized Cher had a point there. Her sister still had me but as far as I was concerned, it was only for a while, at least until the baby was born. I was no fool and would never be tied down to any woman because of an unfortunate pregnancy. However, something about Cher’s words sounded a little beyond a mere compliment and no one else except me seemed to have noticed this. Perhaps it was just my stupid imaginations at work, I told myself. I sighed again. My ‘business empire’ was back on track.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES

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EPISODE 49 - COVERING MY TRACKS

Have you ever told a lie? Of course you have and claiming you have never told a lie right now has just added another feather to your cap of lies. LOL. Now, I’m not going to dwell on how many lies you have told or how many more you intend to tell but one thing that constantly leaves me wondering is the length we often go to cover our tracks when we lie. Mehn! It’s an entire ordeal on its own and usually, when we walk that road called ‘cover up’, we find ourselves wishing we had never told the lie in the first place. Sometimes, we create a maze or web of lies that we get lost or entangled in and practically believe our own lies. In a bid to impress a girl, I once told a lie that I had gone on dreadlocks for three months and had to cut it because I was going to take up an official appointment. Of course, she was impressed (ridiculous, right?) and somehow she told someone else who told someone else and before long, a good number of people believed I actually had dreadlocks at a time. At a point, I practically believed it too and had to remind myself on a few occasions that I never had dreadlocks at any time! Unfortunately, I’m still yet to let those people know they believed a lie and I hope they don’t read this post someday. On second thought, I wouldn’t mind as that would give me a chance to clear the air on the ‘dreadlock story’.

I have often wondered why the Ten Commandments say nothing about lying. 

Source

After all, we have ‘Thou shalt not steal’, kill, commit adultery, and all that but how come we do not have ‘Thou shalt not lie’ Maybe it’s not wrong to tell a little white lie after all, right? (Like there’s a black lie or green lie or lies in various colour shades). You might as well ask why it was not written that ‘Thou shalt not sneak into your girlfriend’s house at night when her parents are asleep’ or ‘Thou shalt not visit a brothel to sleep with prostitutes’ and all the other vices you can imagine. The fact is, we all know the difference between right and wrong and it is definitely wrong to lie. Perhaps one of the punishments we often get for lying is the ordeal we have to go through while trying to cover it up and the unfortunate event of getting caught sometimes. 

As I sat in a bus on my way from the bank to the cybercafé, a myriad of thoughts ran through my mind. Had I just lost three hundred dollars? It was particularly ridiculous considering the fact that I had not even laid hands on this money yet. I experienced a trance of some sort as two entities conversed in my head.

“Come on, you really didn’t lose the money. After all, it was not yet yours,” the first person I would like to call Geebaba pointed out.

“But it was already sent to you?” the second person, Geebizles countered. “All you had to do was collect it so it was yours already. You lost it.”

“Okay, let’s face it,” Geebaba said, “It was illegal money anyway so you can just brush the dirt of your shoulders and move on.”

Geebaba’s words made sense to me. True, I was actually swindling Miles Peck of his hard earned money so maybe it was best I let it go without any hassles.

“Rubbish!” Geebizles countered. “How would you let three hundred dollars go? That’s about thirty six thousand naira; an amount you could only possibly make in three months!”

“Come on, Geebizles” Geebaba said, “Don’t poison his mind!”

“Oh shut up Geebaba! You want him to throw away his investment just like that?”

“Investment? What investment?” Geebaba queried.

I wondered too. What investment was Geebizles talking about?

“The amount spent on his cybercafé airtime and the hours he has spent building an all-too-willing maga in Miles Peck!” Geebizles clarified.

“Oh, ok. You have a point there,” Geebaba agreed eventually. “He shouldn’t throw it all away just like that although I still have my reservations.”

“Better keep them to yourself, brother!” Geebizles snapped.

And that was the end of the conversation. I looked up and realized I was close to my bus stop.

I settled in a comfortable corner in the cybercafé and when I went online, none of my magas were available for a chat. I was not surprised anyway. It was barely two p.m and the eight hour time difference meant it was about six a.m in North America. I read offline messages from each of them. Miles Peck had asked if I had collected the money. Dean Flank had written that he was dying to chat with me again and hoped I could get a laptop soon with the money he would send so we would be able to chat at anytime. Luke Pine had written that he would be coming to Ghana for a medical conference the next month and would be glad if we could meet there or perhaps he could squeeze out time to come down to Nigeria briefly. He hoped we could chat about this later. He added that he had not forgotten about the money he was to send me to get my international passport and he would send it before the close of day. The last message hit me like a bag of bricks. Close of day? I looked at the time he had sent the message and confirmed he sent it at 7.41a.m. That would mean 11.41pm on the previous day in North America. I prayed ‘close of day’ meant the present day and that he had not already sent the money. If he had, I would have a heart attack!

I was still contemplating how to explain to Dean and Luke not to send me any money using my name without making them suspicious when my phone rang. It was my classmate, Nuel.

“Hey Nuel, what’s up? I said as I received the call.

“I’m good bro. Where are you at? I’m coming to your place.”

Just then, an idea occurred to me. It was as though a light bulb suddenly got turned on in my head. It was an Eureka moment. Why had I not thought of this earlier? I wondered. It all sounded so easy.

“Nuel, you have a valid drivers’ license, right?

“Yeah,” my friend answered. “What’s that got to do with anything? Are you home?”

“Look, I need you to come meet me right away. I’ll explain when we see.”

I had suddenly recalled what the banker at the Western Union stand had suggested about getting someone with any of the three acceptable IDs to receive the money. Somehow I had been too grief-stricken to focus on the idea. Nuel had a valid ID and could easily help me collect whatever Dean and Luke were going to send. I heaved a deep sigh of relief.

Getting Nuel in on the plan was pretty easy. I was glad he didn’t try to preach to me or dissuade me from the act.

“Hope you’re not scared, bro?” I asked in a bid to know for certain he was in.

“Scared? What for? I have like three friends doing this stuff now. In fact, I’ll join you guys in this business soon. I wouldn’t mind making some easy dollars too.”

I smiled. I knew I would have to give Nuel a cut out of the cash but I really wasn’t bothered. How much could he ask for anyway? I thought for a second if he wouldn’t try to swindle me but waved the thought off immediately. He wouldn’t dare. If he did, I’d teach him a lesson of his life. Besides, he could see that I had someone like Presido as my mentor in the business and Presido  hardly seemed like someone anyone would try to mess with. I typed away in most convincing way I could reminding my magas that I had just my work ID which was unacceptable for claiming international money transfers in my country so they would have to send the money using my cousin’s name pending the time I was able to get mine. I filled in Nuel’s details and sent the email to Dean Flank and Luke Pine.

I thought about the three hundred dollars trapped in space and Miles Peck’s message requesting to know if I had collected the money. I couldn’t risk losing the money but I wondered if my delay wasn’t a risk in itself. After thinking for a considerable period, I decided to come out open and let Miles know what was happening. I sent him a message that I had tried to cash the money but couldn’t because my work ID wasn’t accepted. I left the message at that and did not bother asking him to resend it. I had a good feeling he would try to suggest an alternative. The guy was in love with me after all. My assumptions proved right and when we chatted that evening he told me how sorry he was about my not being able to get the money. I chuckled.

“AY, do you know anybody you trust that has a valid ID?” he asked.

I felt like break dancing. It was either I was a damn good prophet or this guy was just so predictable.

“I don’t want you to go through any trouble sending me money, Miles” I declined.

“AY I love you and I want to go through the trouble, okay,” he said stubbornly.

I refused to type anything for almost three minutes.

“Are you there?” he asked.

I didn’t respond.

“AY, please talk to me.”

I waited for another two minutes until I was sure his heart was about to blow up.

“Yes I am here.”

“Why are you not talking to me?” he said.

“You just said you love me?” I wrote.

“Yes, I do, AY.”

We went totally romantic for another one hour and I sold him stories of how I had been dumped by the first and only man I ever loved and how I was afraid to love again. He told me stories about his first and second wives and the tough divorces he had to go through. For the first time, I truly felt so close to Miles Peck and I wished I was really the model in the picture. On his insistence, I sent him Nuel’s details and he promised to retrieve the money he had already sent and resend to the new contact. I left the café that day at almost twelve midnight. It was a most eventful ten hours.

By the weekend, I had gotten three hundred dollars from Miles Peck, two hundred dollars from Dean Plank and two hundred and eighty dollars from Luke Pine. In my first week as a Yahoo-Yahoo boy, I had made almost eight hundred dollars! That was almost a hundred thousand naira at an exchange rate of N120 to a dollar in April 2007. Nuel proved to be a worthy partner but at a rather tough expense. I coughed out almost ten thousand naira in total for all three transactions and I knew I couldn’t keep using him. I had to get an alternative, a beautiful female preferably, one whose face I could actually use for future purposes and for prospective magas. I thought of using BG but realized her pregnancy would make it difficult for her to get active in the field if need be. I decided to discuss with BG’s sister, Cher.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES

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EPISODE 48 – IDENTITY ISSUES

One Bible story that has never ceased to amaze me is the story of Abraham. It was my favourite story as a child and the song ‘Father Abraham has many sons . . .” was one of the earliest songs I learnt. The story of this Biblical father of faith is very extensive but I’d like to focus on part where he was first introduced. God simply called him and asked him to depart from his father’s house and from his kindred. Now, this was a guy who was more or less a prince in his own right. Everything appeared to be going on right for him but he was
instructed to move. The story gets much more twisted as God did not even specify where he was to go. He was told to go to “. . . a land where I will show you”.

Source

I would like to relate Abraham’s case here to the starting up of a new business venture and not knowing where the road leads. You don’t know what to expect but you keep moving anyway. The frightening bit about this situation is the strong possibility of getting hit by unexpected events at anytime. I can hardly imagine what could be worse. It is almost like a case of a blind man walking alone on an express road and hearing the sounds of speeding cars as they race past. He knows he could get knocked down at any minute. However, in Abraham’s situation, there was a clear difference because he was sure that God who had instructed him to move had his back. Now, what do make of a situation where you decided to move on your own without any such divine instruction?

I was chatting recently with someone I have come to admire and respect very much and we got talking about the ways of God. This discussion was prompted when I reminisced on the days while I had my brief stint in the ‘Yahoo-Yahoo’ business and said God probably allowed me to prosper in it for some reasons. She however objected saying God could never have been responsible for my success in the venture because He never supports anything bad. I proposed that God sometimes allows some things even though he doesn’t necessarily cause them, stressing on the ‘permissive’ and ‘causative’ will of God in my opinion. I assume the permissive will of God comes to play when He allows some things happen without directly influencing the occurrence. For instance, I strongly believe it was the permissive will of God that was in action when Job, faithful as he was experienced hell and went from grace to grass. The Lord simply allowed Satan to hurt him even. A situation where bad things happen to ‘good’ people or good things happen to ‘bad’ people in our world today could also be a function of the permissive will of God. On the other hand, I believe the causative will of God is manifested when He directly causes something to happen. Such instances would include God’s judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah or his judgment on the house of David and Israel for the dual sins of his adultery with Bathsheba and later for numbering Israel or I daresay, for the bad things that happen to evil people in our world today (Look who’s talking. Lol) and the good things that happen to good people. I still remain resolute on my opinion until someone convinces me otherwise. The fact remains however that God is unquestionable and He does anything as He sees fit. There is no searching of His understanding and an attempt at such would be like, in Solomon’s words, chasing after the wind.

Within a week of my venturing into the ‘Yahoo-Yahoo’ business, I had made three steady contacts whop had already made some financial commitment to prove how serious they were about me. Miles Peck sent me three hundred dollars the following Monday via Western Union. I was almost certain I had to be dreaming. In April 2007, three hundred dollars was equivalent to about thirty six thousand naira at an exchange rate of about N120 to a dollar. That was like the total money I made in three months after a lot of hard work working as an Office Assistant at an Art Gallery, taking private lessons for two kids and writing short stories for a magazine! Now, I was making that at a go! It had to be a miracle. Dean Flank and Luke Pine promised to send me some money during the week so I could apply for my passport (I told them I had none).

I was at my bank the following Tuesday morning. I previously stopped by at a Computer center to get a wait-and-get ID designed with my alias. I had chatted again with Miles the day before.

“AY I have sent the money. You see how serious I am about you?”

“Oh, Miles. You really didn’t have to.” I replied. “I really don’t need your money. Let’s build our friendship first.”

He sent a ‘sad smiley’ on the screen. “I know AY but I want you to trust me, okay.”

I chuckled to myself as I registered the irony. This old man was trying to win my trust whereas I was the bad guy here.

“Okay I do but please let’s not rush things, okay?” I assured him.

He sent a ‘smiling smiley’ this time. “You just go get your money okay.”

“Alright Miles. Thanks again. I appreciate.”

“You didn’t ask for the secret question. You’ll need that to claim the money.”

Truly, I hadn’t known that. I had never collected money via International money transfer before so I had no idea.

“Oh really? Sorry I didn’t know that” I replied, consoling myself that I was making a honest statement at least.

He spelled out the details and further educated me on what it would take to retrieve money on a Western Union platform. I was thrilled and again I wished I was really the model in the picture. I felt sad at the inevitability of the fact that I would have to break his heart someday.

“You have an ID, right?”

I had none. The only IDs I had were my working ID at the Art Gallery and it bore my real name. I shrugged as I realized it wouldn’t be a problem. All I had to do was make one and there were a million and one computer centers that could create one for me in minutes.

“Yes I do.” I replied.

“Good. Now, please send me another sexy picture of you.”

“Okay Miles. I’ll do that right away.”

“So you’ll get the webcam once you get the money, right?”

I shivered again. In one of our earlier chats, Miles had requested to see me on webcam. He had even turned on his own webcam to reveal a video of a fat, hairy Caucasian man waving and smiling on the screen. I had to think fast. Webcam? The system I was using had a webcam but I would never dare turn on the device and show my ‘maga’ a black guy instead of a sexy black goddess!

“I don’t have one on this computer.” I had told him.

He had not brought up the subject again until that Monday night.

“Okay I will.” I simply said this time, deciding we’ll cross the bridge when we got there.    

At the bank, I went straight to the Western Union section and the banker attending to me asked me to fill out a form which I did. I smiled when I saw the part where I was to fill the question and answer and I gladly did. I passed the form back to the banker and he perused it for a few seconds.

“Can I see your ID please?”

I smiled and reached into my wallet. The ID was still fresh and I hoped the man would not smell a rat. For a second, I wished I had scratched it up a little just to throw off any suspicions. I summoned courage and passed the plastic ID card to him. He collected it and smiled. Then he shook his head. My heart skipped a bit.

“Sorry, you can’t use this, sir,” he said, still caressing my card.

“Why?” I asked dumbfounded. “That’s where I work.”

I had produced a replica of my work ID but simply changed my name. Truth was, I cashed my salary cheques with my work ID and used it as a form of identification all the time so I wondered why the ID bearing my alias could not fly.

The banker gently slided the card to me

“For Western Union, you require any of these three; your drivers’ license, your international passport or your national identity card.”

I had none of the three required IDs. I retrieved the card and sighed.

“What do I do now, sir?” I asked the banker stupidly. My three hundred dollars was disappearing right before my eyes before I even had the chance to touch it.

He still had the smile on his face. Was he mocking at me or what? I wondered angrily. Did he know my secret?

 “You just go and apply for any of the IDs. Your money would still be available for sixty days. Better still, you can contact the sender to retrieve the money and resend to another person with the required ID and the person can come and pick the money. However that would require extra charges for the sender though.”

I thought about the suggestion. Applying for an International passport would cost me about twelve thousand naira. I assumed that was about hundred dollars. Lol. A drivers’ license would cost me about six thousand (about fifty dollars). I had no such money. Besides it would take at least a week for either of the IDs to be ready. I thought about the second option. If I dared tell Miles Peck about the situation, would he not suspect foul play and immediately severe all ties with me? I couldn’t take that risk. Besides, I still had sixty days. I remembered my other two 'magas', Luke and Dean. They had also promised to send me money that week. I realized it would be a disaster if they sent the money to my alias again for which I had no ID. My heartbeat accelerated as I left the bank. I headed for the café immediately. I had some money to rescue. 

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES

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EPISODE 47 – MAGAS DEY PAY!

My induction into the Yahoo-Yahoo world was hardly ceremonious. I had always envisaged this world as a cult of some sort where one was required to pass tests of all kinds and prove his loyalty to some higher power. Well, in actual fact, that happens especially when one moves up the ladder. I have heard of cases where people have resorted to voodoo and other extreme diabolic means to swindle people of their money. Those at this stage make thousands and hundreds of thousands of dollars, pounds or euros as the case may be. However, I was still at the lowest rung of the ladder and so I was confined to the crumbs. I didn’t mind as long as I got something. In fact, immediately I understood the vast possibilities in this illegal venture and the things I might be required to do as I ascended the hierarchy, I decided I would never wait that long. I just had to get enough money to see me through BG’s pregnancy and take care of any other financial obligations and I would be cool.

“Geebee, do you realize we could be millionaires in another one year?” Sam informed excitedly, as we began our preliminary work.

“Just think of this,” he continued. “If we make like a couple of hundreds of dollars for now, by next month, we could be making like a thousand plus. In another few months, we would be sending cheques and doing transfers here and there and that’s where the big bucks come in.”

I stared at my friend blankly. If only the guy knew why I was doing this, I thought. Sam seemed determined to make this venture his full-time job whereas I hated the fact that I would have to trick people and rob them of their hard-earned money. I might have been involved in numerous vices but I was not a thief! A voice in my head told me I was fooling myself.

“Sam, I think we should just do this for a while, get the little we can get from it and get out. It’s really not the best way of life.”

My friend looked at me as though I had just told him I slept with a crocodile.

“Are you serious? What is wrong with you, man?” He touched my shoulder tenderly. “This is a whole new world out here for us, a vast land for us to take over and you’re talking of just getting the little we can from it?” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I wonder why I told you about this. Bro, you’re breaking my heart!”

“Let’s face it, Sam” I began. “We will be swindling people of their hard-earned money. That’s stealing.”

“Of course it is,” Sam said angrily, trying to keep his voice down. “Who are we stealing from here? Not our own people. We are going to swindle white men, the same bastards that kept us in slavery for centuries . . .”

“Oh please!” I cut in, irritated at his revolutionary approach. I had to laugh and he joined me almost immediately.

“Was it you that was sold into slavery? Let’s not try to use that idea to justify this. What is wrong is wrong!”

Sam smiled and stared at me for a while. “So, are you saying you’re no longer interested?”

“Of course not! I’m only saying I don’t plan to do this forever.”

“Whatever man,” my friend said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll remind you one day when we begin counting our millions on how you said you didn’t want to do it forever.”

By the end of the first day, I had successfully registered my new profile on a dating site. I selected a random name, AY as my handle. I claimed I was 28 years old, a Nigerian and a writer working with a publishing outfit. I got about fifty pictures of a particular model from a modeling site. The model I selected as my face was a gorgeous African-American beauty. She was so stunning that I found myself fantasizing about her. It sounded pretty ironical that I was attracted to a face that was supposed to be mine. For a while I wondered how many other guys were using her face for the same purpose I was. I integrated my new profile into the dating platform and began to send multiple dating requests making my preferences male Caucasians between the ages of 45 and 70. Presido had schooled Sam and I that the older the men, the more lonely and liberal they were.

“Most white men you find on dating sites between the ages of 45 and 70 are desperate men who have either had their hearts broken at one time or the other or who have been through one or multiple divorces” Presido had informed.

“These men are only looking for young women who they could settle down with and retire with. Of course they also look out for good sex and believe black young women can give them all the pleasure they want. They won’t mind spending all they can to get such women.”

With these at the back of my mind, I went to work. Two days later, I was back at the café and checked my inbox for possible responses to my requests. I had sent about thirty requests to various Caucasian men previously. My inbox revealed that I had sixteen responses. I was elated! However, my excitement gradually waned as I opened each mail.

“I am not going to fall for any of your Nigerian scam. Get lost!” the first mail read.

“I have a woman already. Thank you for your offer” the second read.

“Go find another man to scam,” another read.

There were other responses that were far from encouraging and I was almost tempted to quit the entire thing right then. Most of the Caucasian men were not ready to date a supposedly beautiful Nigerian girl they believed could be a scammer. I could hardly blame them. My country had a reputation for its people being involved in high profile scams and only a few years before, it had been listed as the world’s second most corrupt nation. I was not surprised no white man wanted to date me. The eleventh mail brought a flicker of hope. The sender’s name was Miles Peck.

“Hello AY, thanks for contacting me. You are so beautiful and I would like to have you to myself forever. Please reply.”

I felt like break-dancing. All the discouragement I had previously felt over the earlier mails I had read disappeared in an instant. I replied immediately.

“Hello Miles, I am glad you responded. I believe we can go far with each other, God willing. I would love to know more about you and I’ll gladly tell you about myself too. All you need do is ask. I’ll be waiting. AY.”

I proceeded to read the unread mails. I encountered a few more unpleasant responses but I was not bothered. I got two more nice responses, one from Luke Pine and another from Dean Flank. I was encouraged and responded immediately. Before I sent the third response, I got another mail in my inbox. Miles Peck had responded! I read the mail immediately. He asked me to send more photos of me and if I wouldn’t mind chatting. I responded again, sending him my messenger handle. Ten minutes later, we were chatting.

Miles Peck was fifty-seven years old and a retired construction engineer now running his private firm. He had been divorced twice and had two children who were both long gone from home.

“My daughter is thirty one and my son is twenty-nine. They are both older than you in fact,” he said in our chat.

“Really?” I asked. “So do you mind dating someone young enough to be your daughter?”

“Of course not. My daughter would be glad to meet you in fact.”

I was excited. “Yeah, I would love to meet her too.”

“So can you come and meet me in New Jersey soon?”

I almost jumped. What? He was asking me to come meet him. I was about to tell him I’d love to when his chat line came in.

“I can pay for your ticket if you don’t have money,” he added.

“Really? That would be wonderful. I would have to think about it though.” I wrote in pretense.

“Come on, AY. I just want you to come and visit me for two weeks.”

As we chatted on, I felt like my head was in the clouds. It was hard to believe someone I just began chatting with was already falling heads over heels in love. Was the guy drunk? I wondered. However, he sent me a line that sobered me up for a while.

“I have heard a lot about Nigerians. I hope you are not a fraud.”

I wished I could tell him right then that I was not really the beautiful woman he thought I was but I was already way in over my head. I summoned courage and assured him I was none of such. In fact I told him I was not interested in him sending me any money just to get him off the scent. However, to my greatest surprise and delight, he persisted.

“I’ll send you three hundred dollars as a show of faith just to prove that I am indeed serious about you.”

I realized this had to be a dream; some serious dream. I promised to send him my contact details the next day and we ended the chat with me sending him an almost nude picture of the model. He went wide with excitement.

“I can’t wait to see you, AY!”

That very day, I chatted with Luke Pine and Dean Flank as well and more good luck followed. I had to spend an average of ten hours every day in the café for the next five days consolidating my contacts and making new ones. By the end of the week, I was sure the sky was not even my limit in the business. Unfortunately, Sam was yet to catch even one ‘maga’. I realized I was the luckiest Yahoo-Yahoo boy around.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.

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EPISODE 46 – YAHOO-YAHOO!

I have observed over time that in Nigeria, we have a group of specially-coined informal expressions that are made up of double words. For instance, we hear words like jedi-jedi, jolly-jolly, chop-chop, talk-talk, lie-lie, thief-thief, copy-copy, follow-follow, play-play etc. You can add to the list if you prefer. I wonder if such expressions would lose their flavor if the first part is left plain without being repeated. For instance, why do I have to say, “Why you dey copy-copy?” when I could easily say, “Why you dey copy?” Well, that is what’s been handed down to us so who am I to try to change it now? After all, I no be changey-changey”. Lol. Meanwhile, what comes to your mind when you hear the expression ‘yahoo-yahoo’?

Sometime in 2002, Nigeria was listed as the second most corrupt country in the world and we remained in the top echelon of this list for the most part of that decade. Of course the indices used to determine this included the activities of the nation’s public sector and obviously the activities of its citizens too. As at December 2011 however, Transparency International ranked Nigeria somewhere between 40^th and 45^th on the list and today, Nigeria is said to be 130^th on the list if the media reports are to be believed. Personally, I am rather surprised at this development because I strongly believe the corruption in our nation has gotten worse. Perhaps more nations have gotten more corrupt since then and surpassed even our record.

During the last five years of the last decade, the activities of some people came to national and international awareness. These people have over the years successfully ‘scammed’ millions of Nigerians and foreigners and milked them of lots of money, thereby causing them untold hardship – financial, mental and emotional. These people are known as the ‘Yahoo-Yahoo boys’. They still exist today although their activities have been toned down to a great extent due to the watchful eyes of the EFCC, Interpol and other agencies set up to checkmate their illegal activities.

By April 2007, I was practically going insane with thoughts of my impending status change. I often wondered how I was going to survive being a father if the pregnancy period alone had such an effect on me. BG and her family hardly helped matters with their incessant demands and due to the fact that I did not want any of my parents to be burdened with any financial obligations as far as BG’s pregnancy was concerned, I bore all the responsibilities. However, I soon realized the pressure would kill me soon.

One fateful Sunday afternoon, I received a call from my friend, Sam. For a moment, I was scared to answer the call. It wasn’t as though we never spoke anymore but at that moment, I had crazy thoughts running through my mind. Was Sam aware of the situation? Had someone by any chance briefed him that his former girlfriend who was now dating his friend had gotten pregnant? Was he going to laugh at me? Was he going to condemn me? My head was about to explode when I summoned up courage to receive the call.
“Hey Sam, what’s up?” I said into the receiver in the calmest voice I could muster. I listened carefully to figure out if his response had any suspicious undertone.
“Geebee! What’s happening? Where are you, dawg?” Sam said in a most cheerful voice.
I relaxed a little. He didn’t sound unusual. That was a good sign, I decided.
“At home,” I answered.
“Can you come over to my end? There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”

My heartbeat accelerated. Oh shit! He wanted to discuss ‘some things’ with me. He knew! I began to wonder how on earth he could have gotten to know about BG’s condition. It was a well-guarded secret. Even my closest friends were unaware of the situation. The only people known to me that were informed about the situation were BG’s sisters – Cher and Mrs. Oki – and my mom. BG was far away in Mrs. Oki’s place. So who could have told Sam about it? I decided I would not subject myself to unnecessary ridicule. If my friend wanted to berate me, he’d better come do it on my own turf, I decided.
“Why don’t you come over to my end?” I suggested.
“I would have loved to come but there’s one ‘runs’ I just got introduced to and I think it would be great if you were in on it as well. There’s good money involved, bro! The place where it’s gonna happen is just around my place.”
Had I heard him right? Good money was involved! I was definitely interested if it was about money. I needed all the money I could get before BG and her family drove me nuts for good! I wondered for a second if Sam was simply tricking me into coming over. It hardly seemed the case. I shrugged and decided to find out for myself.

An hour later, Sam and I sat with another guy in an internet café.
“Geebee, this is Presido. Presido, meet Geebee, my brova from another mother.” Sam had said when he introduced us.
Presido briefed us the about money-making scheme. He informed that we were going to sign up on some online dating sites posing as females and try to lure white men to fall in love with us and before long; we would be making some cool cash. The plan sounded ridiculous. How was I to pose as a female? I wondered. Presido seemed to read my thoughts as he opened a website on the computer screen before us. There were a good number of photos of extremely beautiful girls. The girls were so hot that I could almost imagine being with anyone of them just for a night.
“This will be you.” Presido said, clicking on one of the photos. Another page opened and a profile of the model he had clicked on was displayed on the screen. We saw about fifty more photos of this model and each photo was equally breathtaking.
“You’ll have to register a new email address specifically for this purpose and register with a dating site and save all the photos of this model. Once you catch your man, he will ask you for pictures every now and then and you would keep sending him any of these ones.”

Presido went on to explain how the process works and by the time he was through, my mind was made up. I was down for this. He informed us however that we were going to give him 50% of each of the first three payments we got from our ‘magas’ (A prospective victim was called ‘maga’). At that time, I wondered if I was ever going to even get one ‘maga’. Sam renegotiated for 30% and Presido agreed eventually. All that mattered to me at that time was giving the idea a shot and hoping I would be lucky.
“So, what do you think?” Sam asked as Presido left.
“Mehn, this is risky, don’t you think?” I said.
Sam laughed. “Bro, life itself is a risk jor! We need to get rich or die trying like 50 Cent.”
We laughed briefly. “Hope you know EFCC has started raiding cafes and picking up people involved in this kind of stuff,” I warned.
“Bro, take a look around you. Everyone here is a ‘Yahoo-Yahoo’ boy!”

For the first time, I looked around the café and noticed everyone busy on the computer systems. There were about thirty stations in the café and the people all seemed to be busy doing one thing or the other. I allowed my gaze wander from station to station and noticed people working with email extractor software, signing into modeling sites, dating sites and chatting on Yahoo messenger, Hotmail messenger and all other mediums. No one seemed to be doing anything legal. What in the world was I doing here? I wondered.
“The owner of this café himself is a top ‘Yahoo-Yahoo’ boy”, Sam continued. “The man has made money like crazy and in fact he’s contesting in the forthcoming Local Government elections.”
“Really?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes bro!” my friend stressed. “This café is covered. The man has ‘settled’ all the authorities that could ever give us trouble. Presido told me that.”

I sighed. I knew I was about going into something crazy but I was convinced at that moment that I didn’t have a choice. I also realized I could well be on my way to achieving the highest level of financial comfort I could ever dream of. I had noticed a good number of flashy cars parked outside the café. The cars obviously belonged to the café’s patrons and I could just imagine myself owning one of such in no time. Besides, Presido had assured Sam and I that what we were about to do was just a tip of the iceberg. I recalled his words:
“For now, you guys would be making like five hundred dollars or thereabout per deal but when you get into the real thing, you could be making as much as five to ten thousand dollars per deal or more depending on how smart you are.”
Those words kept repeating themselves in my head for a good while.
“So what do you say, bro?” Sam asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you in?”
“You bet!” I said, stretching out my hand. He shook it vigorously.
“That’s the spirit, bro! Let’s start right away.”
We went to work on different computer stations and that was how I began my journey into the ‘Yahoo-Yahoo’ world. Every iota of skepticism I had about the idea was instantly banished when I made over three hundred dollars in my first week!

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.

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