I wrote about quarantine long before it was actually a thing. Seems like the whole world is locked inside now, but it's not much of a change for us. Luckily, since we live on campus, our "back-yard" is vast. There is much to be grateful for in that sense.
I have been thinking back to other lock downs and pending evacuations. The first time it happened in Congo I was torn between having the school potentially require me to leave and feeling that there was no better place to be than exactly where I was.
In the face of these new uncertain times, no such dilemma ensued. In fact, our school borderline required us to stay. Not in so many words, of course, but there was definitely, initially, a lot of pressure. This didn't really influence my decision, as the only other place I'd rather be wasn't really available at the moment. I do think most people with families should have been encouraged to join them as soon as possible. As a result, there are quite a few families and singles waiting on evacuation flights. I've heard these last minute flights have gone off without too much of a hitch in some other West African nations. Not here, naturally.
While no one is exactly sure why, the emergency flights set up for this week were postponed and rescheduled every day, until finally being cancelled 'until further notice.' It seems to have something to do with negotiations around allowing the pilots into the airport. Clearly not successful. It might be too late.
We are in the awkward position of watching our family and friends around the globe battle this illness as it makes it way to Africa. I have been hoping against hope that somehow Africa will be spared the worst of it. She has suffered so often and bears so much of the pain of life, I would be grateful to see her sit this one out. It's time, I think. She has certainly paid her dues.
I have no doubt we all be touched this. The virus travels in humans, and witnessing the spread from country to country and across continents proves how interconnected we all are. Our family recently received that middle of the night call that everyone dreads. Except it came in the afternoon. Having the sun shining while hearing of death doesn't make the knees stronger. It doesn't stop the heart from dropping or the tears from flowing. And now we are filled up with sadness. Our personal sadness, the sadness of thousands of families losing the ones they love, and sadness at the injustice of it all. Beneath the tragedies, lies a basic foundation of injustice and we can only hope that somehow, in the rebuilding of new systems, the ground will be dug up, turned over and a truly fresh start ensues.
Showing posts with label Nigeria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nigeria. Show all posts
4.4.20
8.12.19
Naira
The semester is over, marking my first year of PhD studies complete. These past 5 months were full of transition, illness, stress and catching up. I think there were a few sweet moments in there as well, but getting used to a new country is a job in itself, one I tend to underestimate even though I have been through it enough times to know better.
I cannot say Nigeria, or even Lagos, but I must insist on VI. Victoria Island is a microcosm of it's own. I have to keep remembering that. Because when I am just plain sick of the weirdness here, it's helpful to think it is probably not all of Nigeria. Just these little island bubbles.
On the island, there are fireworks every weekend. (Don't they know you can't have Christmas every day or it won't be special anymore?) Conversations everywhere seem to revolve around parties and events. One of the reasons I came to Nigeria was because of the reputation for intellectual discourse, and I am sure it is here- just not in these island bubbles. Or maybe everyone is adhering to work hard- play hard. Playing hard is expensive so the money must be coming from somewhere. Me? I am just hiding out in my flat, trying not spend too much. Just walking out the door seems to have a cost attached.
One of the hardest things to manage is the naira. Aside from the academic reputation, there is the other side. Business is a big thing, and for every legitimate affair, there is someone equally creative working for the powers of darkness. Nigeria does have a history of scams and con artists, which has led to some very complex rules around money.
1. The naira and the dollar are completely separate. I cannot speak expertly about the processes regulating change of naira to dollar but I know they exist. I was in the bank, withdrawing dollar (from my dollar account, which is very separate from my naira account) actually trying to send Western Union (coming up in rule number 2). Turns out you can only send naira by Western Union and so I was wondering out loud about how to get naira. The bank teller looks at me apologetically and says, "Maybe if you know someone....?" Meaning he, the banker, could not actually help me. I needed to call my money changer. Because I actually have one of those now. Some people have accountants; I have a money changer.
I call and ask him to come and meet me. This time we meet inside the bank, which goes against everything I have experienced about money changers in other countries. Usually, "black market" money exchange is done on the street and at a lower rate than the bank. Here, the bank cannot actually perform this service for me. So Usmane comes into the bank and we work out an exchange. He doesn't really speak English and our exchanges are always a little confusing in terms of communication but I am getting better at understanding. He gives me a huge pile of naira and I go to the "large sums" deposit room to have my money counted, verified and deposited. I receive a small ticket to bring back to the teller to verify that my "large deposit" has been counted. Every time I need more naira, I have to go through this process. I wire my dollars to my naira account, call Usmane to change my dollars- sometimes he transfers directly to my account, sometimes I have large piles of naira to count. Usmane is friendly, always smiling- if we could communicate better I would ask how he got into this line of work. Where does he get all the money from? Who is actually funding his whole situation and where do my dollars go? But I am still slightly uncomfortable with the need to invite a third party into my banking transactions. Nairas spend like loose change here and sometimes it is embarrassing to have Usmane witnessing my 'wealth.'
2. There is no way to get money out of the country. Money transfer options like Western Union and Money Gram barely exist here. You can transfer within country, but sending out is a complicated affair. I managed to do it twice in emergency situations, but it takes at least an hour per transaction and there is a limit on the amount you can send per day. Coupled with the many personal questions required to be completed and I am once again feeling my privacy is being invaded. When it comes to money and Nigeria, there is no privacy.
3. There are limits on everything. ATMs do exist, and there are a few you could risk trying to use your international card at, but you are still limited to 20,000 naira per transaction (about $60.) It is extremely frustrating trying to keep cash on hand- which is actually something the government is discouraging.
4. Electronic transfers are all the rage. Some people even know their bank account numbers by heart. Most banks have mobile apps and from your app you can send money from your account to anyone else's account. It is the way to pay. Cashless. There is a small charge for this service but it's possible to pay for all kinds of services this way, person to person, person to business and you can even directly transfer naira for mobile phone credit. As long as the network is working. That small condition can lead to big problems. People have been super gracious so far, allowing that you pay for it later, when the network is up again. Meaning I have consumed services and then just been trusted to pay for them later. "Network" is a word commonly used to describe any kind of technical glitch. And people have adapted with patience. What else can you do, really?
Network problems also affect Uber and Taxify, getting in the way of providing useful directions or calculating fares. I have been on some longer trips that miscalculated the fare or just shut down altogether. By this point, I generally have a good idea of what the fare should be and try to leave something of a generous tip, but it's not always a sure thing. I still feel bad about a trip I took in from the mainland and ended up shorting the driver 100N when I had hoped to leave him extra. I figure in the big circle of taxi fares and tips, it has to equal out somewhere along the way. It's all I can do.
5. Credit and debit cards are also a valid form of payment, but rely on the "network." It definitely has the possibility of feeling like a futuristic King novel, with evil something or other taking over and shutting it down. Or itself taking over and ruling as it wishes. I have gone grocery shopping, intending to pay with my US card only to have it rejected. In one case, I then left the store to try the ATM, also down. I went back to the store, unpacked my groceries so I could reclaim my bags when the cashier tried again- and it went through. I had to repack my groceries. Paying and packing-unpacking-repacking took longer than the shopping itself.
Money and money exchange has become something that takes up precious mental energy space. It now involves planning ahead, calculating wire transfer time, money exchange time (Usmane is actually surprisingly super quick- arriving one time within minutes. If we could communicate, I would ask him where he is doing his business....certainly on the island somewhere.)
As I understand it, our salaries go through their own complicated process. My bank app shows two accounts which I can't actually access, but the money passes through there on it's way to my US account. First, the naira is deposited. There is something about bidding on US dollar exchange- my financial literacy is severely limited at this point- and then it gets converted to dollars, which go through that shadow account and are finally wired to my US account.
Something about all the rules, regulations and conditions works to make me feel everything about it is even shadier than if it just existed. I guess the Nigerians know best, how to combat the fraud and corruption. The whole thing gives me a headache.
I cannot say Nigeria, or even Lagos, but I must insist on VI. Victoria Island is a microcosm of it's own. I have to keep remembering that. Because when I am just plain sick of the weirdness here, it's helpful to think it is probably not all of Nigeria. Just these little island bubbles.
On the island, there are fireworks every weekend. (Don't they know you can't have Christmas every day or it won't be special anymore?) Conversations everywhere seem to revolve around parties and events. One of the reasons I came to Nigeria was because of the reputation for intellectual discourse, and I am sure it is here- just not in these island bubbles. Or maybe everyone is adhering to work hard- play hard. Playing hard is expensive so the money must be coming from somewhere. Me? I am just hiding out in my flat, trying not spend too much. Just walking out the door seems to have a cost attached.
One of the hardest things to manage is the naira. Aside from the academic reputation, there is the other side. Business is a big thing, and for every legitimate affair, there is someone equally creative working for the powers of darkness. Nigeria does have a history of scams and con artists, which has led to some very complex rules around money.
1. The naira and the dollar are completely separate. I cannot speak expertly about the processes regulating change of naira to dollar but I know they exist. I was in the bank, withdrawing dollar (from my dollar account, which is very separate from my naira account) actually trying to send Western Union (coming up in rule number 2). Turns out you can only send naira by Western Union and so I was wondering out loud about how to get naira. The bank teller looks at me apologetically and says, "Maybe if you know someone....?" Meaning he, the banker, could not actually help me. I needed to call my money changer. Because I actually have one of those now. Some people have accountants; I have a money changer.
I call and ask him to come and meet me. This time we meet inside the bank, which goes against everything I have experienced about money changers in other countries. Usually, "black market" money exchange is done on the street and at a lower rate than the bank. Here, the bank cannot actually perform this service for me. So Usmane comes into the bank and we work out an exchange. He doesn't really speak English and our exchanges are always a little confusing in terms of communication but I am getting better at understanding. He gives me a huge pile of naira and I go to the "large sums" deposit room to have my money counted, verified and deposited. I receive a small ticket to bring back to the teller to verify that my "large deposit" has been counted. Every time I need more naira, I have to go through this process. I wire my dollars to my naira account, call Usmane to change my dollars- sometimes he transfers directly to my account, sometimes I have large piles of naira to count. Usmane is friendly, always smiling- if we could communicate better I would ask how he got into this line of work. Where does he get all the money from? Who is actually funding his whole situation and where do my dollars go? But I am still slightly uncomfortable with the need to invite a third party into my banking transactions. Nairas spend like loose change here and sometimes it is embarrassing to have Usmane witnessing my 'wealth.'
2. There is no way to get money out of the country. Money transfer options like Western Union and Money Gram barely exist here. You can transfer within country, but sending out is a complicated affair. I managed to do it twice in emergency situations, but it takes at least an hour per transaction and there is a limit on the amount you can send per day. Coupled with the many personal questions required to be completed and I am once again feeling my privacy is being invaded. When it comes to money and Nigeria, there is no privacy.
3. There are limits on everything. ATMs do exist, and there are a few you could risk trying to use your international card at, but you are still limited to 20,000 naira per transaction (about $60.) It is extremely frustrating trying to keep cash on hand- which is actually something the government is discouraging.
4. Electronic transfers are all the rage. Some people even know their bank account numbers by heart. Most banks have mobile apps and from your app you can send money from your account to anyone else's account. It is the way to pay. Cashless. There is a small charge for this service but it's possible to pay for all kinds of services this way, person to person, person to business and you can even directly transfer naira for mobile phone credit. As long as the network is working. That small condition can lead to big problems. People have been super gracious so far, allowing that you pay for it later, when the network is up again. Meaning I have consumed services and then just been trusted to pay for them later. "Network" is a word commonly used to describe any kind of technical glitch. And people have adapted with patience. What else can you do, really?
Network problems also affect Uber and Taxify, getting in the way of providing useful directions or calculating fares. I have been on some longer trips that miscalculated the fare or just shut down altogether. By this point, I generally have a good idea of what the fare should be and try to leave something of a generous tip, but it's not always a sure thing. I still feel bad about a trip I took in from the mainland and ended up shorting the driver 100N when I had hoped to leave him extra. I figure in the big circle of taxi fares and tips, it has to equal out somewhere along the way. It's all I can do.
5. Credit and debit cards are also a valid form of payment, but rely on the "network." It definitely has the possibility of feeling like a futuristic King novel, with evil something or other taking over and shutting it down. Or itself taking over and ruling as it wishes. I have gone grocery shopping, intending to pay with my US card only to have it rejected. In one case, I then left the store to try the ATM, also down. I went back to the store, unpacked my groceries so I could reclaim my bags when the cashier tried again- and it went through. I had to repack my groceries. Paying and packing-unpacking-repacking took longer than the shopping itself.
Money and money exchange has become something that takes up precious mental energy space. It now involves planning ahead, calculating wire transfer time, money exchange time (Usmane is actually surprisingly super quick- arriving one time within minutes. If we could communicate, I would ask him where he is doing his business....certainly on the island somewhere.)
As I understand it, our salaries go through their own complicated process. My bank app shows two accounts which I can't actually access, but the money passes through there on it's way to my US account. First, the naira is deposited. There is something about bidding on US dollar exchange- my financial literacy is severely limited at this point- and then it gets converted to dollars, which go through that shadow account and are finally wired to my US account.
Something about all the rules, regulations and conditions works to make me feel everything about it is even shadier than if it just existed. I guess the Nigerians know best, how to combat the fraud and corruption. The whole thing gives me a headache.
22.4.13
Bankers: dancing
Recently I had the unusual opportunity to accompany my dance teacher to one of his more interesting classes. He's been working with a group of bankers- yeah, the money kind. They've been gearing up for a big conference at their headquarters in Nigeria. Apparently this conference will include representatives from all the Access branches around Africa. Naturally, they will hold a dance competition.
I've been back to the class, which takes place on a rooftop balcony, a few times since. I am tickled by the idea of a bunch of bankers dancing. Something about my American sensibilities finds humor in trying to merge the image of a stuffy US banker getting down with his colleagues- and what's more, preparing to strut his stuff in front of colleagues from all over the continent.
These bankers are anything but stuffy (I had the greatest pleasure in seeing the bank manager show off his sexiest cha-cha-cha while encouraging his underlings.) They have been taking their own time to practice for 2 hours a night twice a week for months. They're looking forward to the trip.
The choreography and song selection is meant to show the best of DRC, hence the Independence Cha Cha Cha selection. I've watched the dancing bankers grow from their first hesitant steps to really confident movements. They laugh, cajole, encourage each other and I have been witness to the power of dance to truly build community. I imagine their working relationship has improved because of it. Not to mention the magic of dancing on a rooftop in a cool Kinshasa evening.
I happened to be present one night when the manager informed the dancers that they wouldn't all be able to travel to Nigeria. The 3 couples- none of whom shined too brightly individually as dancers- made a picture perfect ensemble when dancing together. They each carried a certain joy and rhythm and seemed to be having genuine fun. I couldn't imagine only 2 of the couples dancing without the others. And what a weight for their teacher. He was told to pick the best of the 6 to represent their bank, their branch, their country. Oh the difficulty. He began that evening's practice a bit severe, serious. But in the end he has only managed to insist that they all travel. He can't make the cut. I agree that the 6 of them together carry the most ambiance.
It was this same evening that I overheard a conversation between the manager and another of his employees (apparently a rogue non-dancing banker.) The manager was criticizing a decision made by the employee during his handling of a money transfer between two different clients. I tried not to pay much attention, feeling distinctly like I shouldn't be present although I had been personally invited into the office for a seat. What caught my ears was another contradiction in terms. As a means of wrapping up the conversation, the manager began to advise his employee, "Search for the spirituality in your work. You really must. Find the spirituality." He sent him off with wishes of God blessings and other hopes for salvation.
I've been thinking a lot about finding the spirituality in one's work- how it struck me as odd and yet necessary all at the same time. Certainly not advice one hears in most American institutions. It coincides nicely with the emphasis on dance. What a better way to represent oneself, one's country, one's spirituality than through the language of dance. From the mouths of bankers....
UPDATE: All six dancers got to take the trip to Nigeria after all. Great news for them!
I've been back to the class, which takes place on a rooftop balcony, a few times since. I am tickled by the idea of a bunch of bankers dancing. Something about my American sensibilities finds humor in trying to merge the image of a stuffy US banker getting down with his colleagues- and what's more, preparing to strut his stuff in front of colleagues from all over the continent.
These bankers are anything but stuffy (I had the greatest pleasure in seeing the bank manager show off his sexiest cha-cha-cha while encouraging his underlings.) They have been taking their own time to practice for 2 hours a night twice a week for months. They're looking forward to the trip.
The choreography and song selection is meant to show the best of DRC, hence the Independence Cha Cha Cha selection. I've watched the dancing bankers grow from their first hesitant steps to really confident movements. They laugh, cajole, encourage each other and I have been witness to the power of dance to truly build community. I imagine their working relationship has improved because of it. Not to mention the magic of dancing on a rooftop in a cool Kinshasa evening.
I happened to be present one night when the manager informed the dancers that they wouldn't all be able to travel to Nigeria. The 3 couples- none of whom shined too brightly individually as dancers- made a picture perfect ensemble when dancing together. They each carried a certain joy and rhythm and seemed to be having genuine fun. I couldn't imagine only 2 of the couples dancing without the others. And what a weight for their teacher. He was told to pick the best of the 6 to represent their bank, their branch, their country. Oh the difficulty. He began that evening's practice a bit severe, serious. But in the end he has only managed to insist that they all travel. He can't make the cut. I agree that the 6 of them together carry the most ambiance.
It was this same evening that I overheard a conversation between the manager and another of his employees (apparently a rogue non-dancing banker.) The manager was criticizing a decision made by the employee during his handling of a money transfer between two different clients. I tried not to pay much attention, feeling distinctly like I shouldn't be present although I had been personally invited into the office for a seat. What caught my ears was another contradiction in terms. As a means of wrapping up the conversation, the manager began to advise his employee, "Search for the spirituality in your work. You really must. Find the spirituality." He sent him off with wishes of God blessings and other hopes for salvation.
I've been thinking a lot about finding the spirituality in one's work- how it struck me as odd and yet necessary all at the same time. Certainly not advice one hears in most American institutions. It coincides nicely with the emphasis on dance. What a better way to represent oneself, one's country, one's spirituality than through the language of dance. From the mouths of bankers....
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