• Tuesday, October 15, 2024
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Around and about: A trip to Awka, Friday, 6/9/24

Around and about: A trip to Awka, Friday, 6/9/24

On the 6th of September, 2024, I went to Awka. But it’s not what you think! I didn’t go to Agu-Awka to ‘hustle’ for a contract, seek an executive handshake with the Governor, or endorse any candidates or factions of APGA. I had a business at Clinix Healthcare with my youngest son, and you can guess the kind of business an ordinary fellow would have with Clinix.

For context, I purchased ₦50,000 worth of fuel on the 4th of September at ₦998 per litre. It barely filled half my tank, and there was some fuel in it before I bought more. This underscores how fueling a car has become a capital budgeting decision that now requires capital allocation techniques like IRR and NPV. The price of fuel had jumped from ₦750 to ₦770, ₦990, ₦1,100, and then ₦1,200 per litre, all within a week, with the last three price hikes occurring within 36 hours. At some retail outlets, it was selling for ₦1,300! On the 5th of September, I went to Unizik Teaching Hospital in Nnewi, and by the time I got to Awka—less than an hour’s journey—my fuel gauge was already worrying me. I’ve never been hypertensive, but my heart was pounding every time I glanced at the gauge. Driving had become riskier since I was more focused on the fuel gauge than the road or mirrors. I had been checking every fuel station I passed, but fuel was selling at ₦1,100 per litre everywhere!

Read also: Fuel scarcity and the hard journey to take

Anyway, I reached Awka. Not much happened on the way, apart from an encounter with our friends (or fiends) in uniform, and witnessing people and machines working frantically on the Amawbia-Ekwulobia stretch of the Dubai-Taiwan Expressway. I arrived at the sprawling Clinix compound on Ekwueme Road, and after two hours, we finished our business. They then gave us three options to collect the results: wait for another three hours, return the following day, or submit details for online collection. Waiting for three more hours was out of the question, and returning to Awka with this ‘BATified’ fuel (which seems to run out faster than before) was not a viable option. So, we chose the online option.

“I had been checking every fuel station I passed, but fuel was selling at ₦1,100 per litre everywhere!”

Rather than wait idly, I decided to try my luck at the NNPC station. On the way, I noticed the Roban Stores signboard and decided to check if they had a particular brand of milk I had been convinced contained minimal sugar. When I entered the vast store, the one-serve packs were out of stock, so I decided to leave. However, the aroma from the bakery caught my attention, and I decided to buy just one loaf of sliced bread—important for portion control! Even then, my pro-bono dietician mustn’t hear that I went anywhere near bread or milk. Please, keep this between us!

I was shocked to learn that the loaf of bread cost ₦1,600. ₦1,600 for an average-sized loaf. In these tough times? I looked again and noticed it seemed smaller than the free-form loaves and remembered that my preferred loaf, the Irish Sandwich, cost ₦1,000 when I was in Aba recently. But of course, it didn’t have the Roban stamp! Since I was already there, I decided to buy it. At the pay point, I encountered people who appeared oblivious to the era of “TINIBUlation,” considering the amount of stuff they were buying. I estimated that I’d spend an hour in line just to pay for a loaf of bread, so I was tempted to leave. But, led by the spirit, I politely asked two young ladies in front of me if I could ‘shunt,’ and they graciously allowed me. I thanked them, especially the one right at the cashier.

The cashier billed me ₦1,650, and that’s where the trouble started. I asked why she was swindling me for an extra ₦50 in these “BATified” times, and she claimed it was for stamp duty. Stamp duty for a loaf of bread? Grudgingly, I paid and asked her to remember my face, as I would return to dispute the ₦50. Ordinary ₦50? Yes! I once sent a DHL protest letter over ₦100 against Hallmark Bank, even though DHL cost me ₦1,000. So, I appeal to Mazi Zaccheus at FIRS and Dr. Greg at AIRS to clarify whether the ₦50 stamp duty on a loaf of bread is legitimate.

After the Roban diversion, I went to NNPC. On the way, I stopped at a Rainoil station, hoping their prices would be more “OBIdient,” so I could save myself the stress of queuing at NNPC. Unfortunately, their prices weren’t significantly different from what I’d seen at Igbo-Ukwu. So, to NNPC, I went. I joined the queue, which was thankfully shorter than earlier in the day. I checked the Time of Arrival (TOR), estimated my Expected Time of Departure (ETD), and bought boiled groundnuts and water to occupy myself during the wait. Surprisingly, in less than 40 minutes, I was being served at ₦885 per litre.

Read also: The challenges of managing Nigeria’s fuel subsidy conundrum

I asked the pump attendant for extra fuel for my generator and was told it was against policy. I pleaded, explained the distance I had travelled, and asked her to pour it into my pockets since I couldn’t carry my generator from Igbo-Ukwu to Awka! Her resolve melted, and I managed to buy some extra litres for my gen, all at the cost of ₦71,000. Remember, I had spent ₦50,000 just two days prior. I didn’t even mind the extra ₦100 charge for POS usage at NNPC! I was so elated that I smiled as if I had just won the lottery. Why not? The difference between what I paid at NNPC and what I would have paid at Igbo-Ukwu was ₦25,000, and nearly ₦40,000 at the black market! I chose not to dwell on the fact that fuel was ₦193 per litre at the start of the “BATification” era.

The fuel and medical tests cost me 50 percent of my salary. It’s a sign of the times, as my salary has been cut by about 70 percent in the last 15 months. By the way, I’m still awaiting a response from the tax authorities about the ₦50. As I write, my generator’s fuel has dropped by 50 percent, and my car’s gauge is down by 30 percent. It’s worrisome! I would have gone back to Awka for more fuel, but who knows if there will be any left? Most importantly, I don’t have a petroleum distribution license, and I don’t want to be accused of economic crimes and become a customer of the recently hyperactive DSS!

Meanwhile, I await advice from my tax friends and am engaging an advertising guru to collect my charges from all the brands mentioned in this column: Clinix, Rainoil, Roban Stores, and NAUTH!

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