Thursday, July 11, started like any other day in the Umuga axis of Ogbor-Hill, Aba, where I had gone to spend some time in my fourth residence (Lagos, Ijebu Ode, Igbo-Ukwu, and Aba). The weather was dull, and I kept “watching its face” as I had planned to visit my uncle, Ide Nwaogalanya Umeweni, on the famous Port-Harcourt Road. I was there in May 2021, and what I saw was loathsome. As I reported then, “I really wept when I got to the great PH Road. The stretch of land that was once a road was at the same time a gully, a swimming pool, a slimy pond, some elements of very rough patches of earth, and consequently, a haven for traffic. The driver had to swim through the waters, meander through people’s compounds off the road, cross the disused railway track, and do other acrobatics to pass through the famous PH Road. The trip from Ogbor Hill, which would have ordinarily taken about 30 minutes, took 3 hours (Home-made ‘Ajalanisation’: Lagos to Ijebu Ode to Igbo-Ukwu to Awka to Aba and to Enugu, May, 2021).”
I heard that the Ottomagic had touched that axis, and I was eager to “eyemark” it. Around 11 a.m., the weather appeared benign, and I hit the road. I crisscrossed six keke-stops before I got there and was welcomed with a plate of roasted fish and a bottle of water. Sure, “the PH Road we saw before, we will see no more! (Exodus 14:13).” We discussed various topics, had a lunch of “agidi” and pepper soup, took some pictures, and I left.
Just before I got to my house, I stopped to buy some fruits from a local market. Afterward, I noticed that my phone had “travelled.” I went back to the spot where I had just been, but there was “no show,” and that was how I started 48 hours of indescribable physical stress, emotional turmoil, a dozen captures and recaptures of my fingerprints, and being tossed “upandan” by various folks.
I resolved to calm down because the phone had “travelled,” and I was worried it would not be available much longer. I also prepared myself for the possibility of being offline for a few days. This was not a big issue, as I had previously abandoned my phone for almost a week when it malfunctioned. I did not want an ordinary phone to cause me stress.
I had decided never to get involved in online banking due to fears of fraud, but during Emefiele’s tenure, I was persuaded to “upgrade.” So, I acquired an ATM card from Access Bank and the ALAT app from Wema Bank. Since then, I have understood why banks encourage us to embrace these platforms: It is very easy to spend money! One just punches in some figures, presses “enter,” and the money disappears. Whenever I received a debit alert, my heart would race as I wondered, “What is this now?” About three charges would follow, all benefiting the banks and entities like FIRS.
I worried about what could be done with my two lines and my accounts with online capabilities. It was late in the day, but I rushed to the nearby Access Bank. The security guard told me they had closed, but when I explained that I had lost my phone (I wasn’t sure if it was taken or if I had misplaced it), he let me in. They blocked my account after assuring me that no transactions had gone through it that day.
When I got to Wema Bank, the security guards told me they had closed for the day, even though some customers were still inside. They refused to let me in. I explained my predicament and the urgent need to block my account, and they only collected my account number. I argued that their level of responsibility was insufficient, given the potential for lost money, and I wanted to see an officer held accountable “in case of emergency,” but they would not budge. Eventually, one of them came out to confirm my name, indicating he had actually interacted with a customer care officer. This was reassuring but not sufficient.
In my helplessness and frustration, I met a staff member at the door and narrated my ordeal to him. He told me there was no need to go inside. I asked him how he would feel if he went to a bank to lodge an account-threatening complaint and was dismissed by security at the gate. He responded that if I had called their customer care line, I would not have met anyone, but I told him a record of the call was sufficient. I stayed until the bank closed two hours later and got partly drenched in the process. I borrowed a phone from the staff and informed them of my situation. Eventually, I got home and learned from my beloved that the phone initially rang without any response and eventually switched off.
About three hours had passed since I noticed the loss, and I believed the phone had fallen out of my pocket and was picked up later by a passerby. That was the end of my “Infinix Hot 12 Play.” I had used it for about five years; it had many scares and was due for retirement, but…
So, I went to bed and slept soundly; I did not allow the loss of the phone and probable loss of funds to rob me of the needed sleep and peace of mind.
The following morning, the real trouble began. I arrived at the MTN office shortly after 8 a.m. and was asked for my NIN. So, I went to the NIMC office, paid N2000, and waited. After a while, I decided to make better use of my time by visiting FBN, where I was informed that they have a policy of blocking accounts whose owners haven’t made in-person withdrawals for some time (a sensible policy). They advised me to be patient while my account was reactivated, which could take several hours.
After some time, I returned to the NIMC office, where a long waiting game started. At one point, I even considered walking to the Abuja office as it seemed it might be faster than waiting for the online process.
Four hours later, I received the printout, went to MTN to retrieve my line for a fee of N1000, and then went to FBN and finally to Glo, where I retrieved my line for N2500 (including N1800 airtime). I then went to Wema, and my account, which had been blocked the previous day, was seamlessly reactivated.
Amusingly, I did not check my balance or revive my ALAT app at that time. I brought up the issue of my experience the previous day, reminding the young lady who assisted me that I had been a customer since 2004 (and asked where she was then!), emphasising the importance of attending to customers with similar challenges even after official working hours if they were still in the office.
I then headed to the large St. Michaels GSM Market in the city centre and took care of necessary matters, which significantly strained my limited finances. However, it was a lesser evil compared to the potential alternatives. My youngest son helped me restore everything, but I noticed that my GLO line didn’t reconnect.
The following morning, which was Saturday, I went to the GLO office, and the issue was resolved with apologies.
In the past 48 hours, my fingerprint was scanned nine times (fortunately, the scanner didn’t run out of power). I took a Keke 29 times and walked approximately five kilometres in the process. Once I got home, I stayed indoors and in bed to rest from the stress and strain of the past two days.
On Sunday, July 14, 2024, I recharged my MTN line and noticed that they had deducted the remaining balance of about N3000, leaving me with only a borrowed sum of N181. Around 1 p.m., I used my ATM successfully and confirmed that everything was in order. By 3pm on Monday, July 15, I had reactivated my WEMA_ALAT account, and everything was correct there as well.
Although I didn’t lose any money, I lost all the information, data, images, and videos stored on my phone. I habitually use my phone as a temporary storage for documents before transferring them to the appropriate files on my laptop.
To ensure I had explored all options, I returned to the MTN office to inquire if I could retrieve my data, but they informed me that it wasn’t possible since I hadn’t backed it up. When I requested assistance with setting up backups for the future, the representative said it wasn’t her responsibility. Jesus wept!
That’s my story. When you encounter someone who has lost their phone, offer them your condolences and support, considering the stress, strain, and potential loss of funds and records they might be experiencing. In my case, while I only lost N200, the unquantifiable loss of information and data is something I cannot fully assess.
Ik Muo, PhD. Dept of Business Admin Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ago-Iwoye. 08022026625
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