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.

Money Matters

I don't remember much about My Ishmael except for the basic premise- a talking ape who delivers profound wisdom about how the world went wrong. What I remember most about reading this book was the idea that locking up all the food was the one of the first errors. It seemed so simple and so basically rooted in fact that I wonder how we miss it. The solution to our problems. As with every solution that seems so obvious, the answers lie in human nature gone awry- greed, power, lust for control.

Since I was 10, I have been confused by the concept of money. I never could understand why life just didn't work like Monopoly- everyone starts off with equal amounts of money. But more than money, I always dreamed of having a little bit of land to put a simple house on. And in the area where I grew up, there seemed to be such an abundance of land, my desire appeared more than reasonable. I even resorted at one point to taking books out of the library on building my own cabin. I thought I could do it. Just plant a little cabin in the middle of the woods and build a life. That was my dream back then and I still find it to be a sweet idea.

I have accepted that I am not a business person or an economist. I don't love numbers or understand investments. And, while I have developed a slightly more sophisticated understanding of the money systems of the world than I had when I was ten, I still believe that problems can't be resolved with cash. I used to spend long nights wondering why governments wouldn't just print enough money for everyone- though I now see that distributing large bundles of crisp new bills would only bring their value down, I don't really understand how they got to be valuable in the first place.

As my class begins to examine the history of Africa and the resources of Congo, I am even left to ponder how gold became seen as a valuable material to have. Why do we place such importance on things that can't directly contribute to our survival? Why did we ever lock up the food to begin with and start trading it for things we can't actually use?

Perhaps these are the thoughts that led me to refuse my first offer of the newly minted 1,000 Congolese franc. I was stocking up on nuts and spices at my favorite Indian store when I was offered the bill as part of my change. Without thinking, I shook my head and backed away. "Don't you have any francs?" I asked. Later reflection helped me to see that my attitude towards the new money wasn't really based on anything solid- just a general mistrust of something unknown. I want the new bills to have been around awhile before I begin participating in the system. I suspect there are plenty of Congolese who feel the same way. Of course, they have more experience with money being printed, handed out and immediately devalued. I've heard this story too, and perhaps the legacy living in my unconscious is what prompted me to refuse the 1,000 franc.

I'm not sure what this says about me. Still can't tell if I was acting with real world caution or old world myth. But I am always happy to accept the small candies offered when a 50FC is not available or even the odd pack of tissues I received once in place of my 200 FC change. Because what is money anyway, expect a means to get me the things I really need?