In the twelve years since I started driving, I
have had at least four driver’s licenses, all of them processed in Lagos.
By the way,
when I say processed, I mean that very common ‘parole’ where someone who ‘does’
licenses gives you a form of some sort and you write your name, signature, date
of birth, Blood type and other info on, then you submit with two passport
photos, and within days you get a new license; Gbam!
About four
years ago, it occurred to me that this process was wrong. The license came out
looking funny and it had a northern state written on it, plus it did not have
the correct first issue date on it, and many other things were just not right.
(yeah sue me, I’m a bloody Nigerian).
The license
became some sort of embarrassment over the years, so I decided to do right by
my country. That is what got me into this unending dance with the Federal road
safety corps.
Last year I
went to the road safety/Vehicle Inspection Unit in Lagos; as a repentant good
Nigerian.
Day 1, I spent close to three hours between the bank and the Road
safety offices, in a riotous round of applying, signing and online submissions.
It took
great grace to ignore the tout who walked up to me and offered to help me get
the license sharp-sharp.
The mention
of the internet raised my hopes of progress in this sweet country of mine.
Surely with computerized steps, the whole Driver’s license process would be as
easy and fast as flash Thompson(even if he were on a pounded yam and egusi soup
diet). I spoke too soon.
At the end
of that day, they asked me to produce a certificate from an accredited driving
school, that was the only way they would ascertain that I could drive.
‘But I have been
driving for over ten years, see my expired license!’ I said, unbelief nearly
choking my voice
But the
license was not recognized on their system, so I may as well be a fresh
applicant. This was the response from the officers, each of who had nasty
smirks on their faces
You can’t understand
my frustration at that point. Me, Iquo DianaAbasi, aka Diana Bond? aka ‘ika
obirin lori steering? Me, Fresh applicant? Driving school? Chei, I haf suffer!
At that
point I almost hated their new internet-driven system.
Okay, on to
Day 2.
I agreed to
return another day to the driving school they pointed out to me. At this place,
the old way still worked. They simply asked for money and handed me a
certificate in minutes. By the time I returned to FRSC, they put me in a room
with several other people and scheduled us for a written test. Finally!
Something I could handle. With a 90% score I hoped again that merit would
quicken the process… but once again I was hasty.
Then came
the driving test. How can you even wonder how it went? My name is Bond. Diana
Bond.
Next I was
sent to another room, where I finally got a date for physical capture, three
months from that day!
So, I missed
my capture date and returned to FRSC for a rescheduling. Another crowd took
possession of the capture waiting area. Many got rescheduled dates too. Some
men kept grumbling about having to carry the sheaf of papers about for the
three years that a proper license would last before expiration. Another said
this was his fourth time of being rescheduled; they just kept stamping and
re-stamping his forms for the past year and three months.
That is when
I realized that I have really entered one chance. Could this be what Fela meant
when he sang O-D-O-O (Overtake don overtake overtake)?
It is five
months now, and I am yet to get a physical capture. I’m beginning to wonder if
this capture is done by quantum physics, or if FRSC just has serious
‘village-whinch’ issues.
If I decide
to go back to my old ways, shebi they will say I am unpatriotic.
Issokay.
