BY ABDULHAMID AL-GAZALI
There was a time we had a very heated discussion about japa, leaving comfort zone, seeking greener pasture and so on. As one who has no plans for that, even though not opposed to it, I had nothing to say.
But something really intriguing happened to someone I know recently that persuaded me to plaster these pieces of thoughts on your walls. My friend who was gifted with exceptional talent for repairing everything machine, relocated from Maiduguri to a town (I shouldn’t mention) about 15 years or so ago because of Boko Haram.
The terrorist activities forced many businesses out of the state, particularly trailer and truck services. Most of the traffic moved to border towns outside Borno, and as a mechanic, he needed to move with that too.
My friend is such a slim, calm, and cool looking folk. Save for those who already knew, you would never tell he could loosen some of these big truck bolts, from merely seeing him. But underestimate him at your own risk. He once told me that he was even used to being underrated at first sight, such that over time, he has learned to use it as a motivation.
I remember asking him too how he manages to deal with loosening and tightening these heavy trucks. A terrific Sufi, he told me that it was always simple when you use your heart. He said it wasn't just physical strength that does that, but a strong mental clarity and commitment. As far as I am concerned, that's a terrible French. For instance, he said the knots have certain patterns. When they are four on a rectangular object, you know that their strength are evenly distributed, and you immediately choose which one to start loosening. 'Your biggest tool is your hands and all of your body, working in sync with your heart. The spanners follow your instructions.' Terrific.
Before you would utter Jack Robinson, he became a household name in the town. His customers were built from people who had even given up hope on ever getting their trucks back on tarred roads. This means that his workshop always dealt with trucks that were believed to be hardly ever repairable. If it isn't so complex, it wouldn't be ever brought to him.
He specialized in handling the American Mack brand, built by a 124-year-old truck manufacturer. Founded in 1900 in Brooklyn, its TC-15 transmission, exceptional engine power take-off, and general body quality made it a universal darling for truck operators. My friend mastered its principles, structure and operations to its very last detail. He would tell me that, for his workshop, there's no such situations as irreparable; it is either the owner doesn't want it fixed or can't afford to foot the bills.
Over time, truck operators shifted from it because of the brand's high cost of spare parts and maintenance. They switched to a Chinese brand, Howo. Not as strong as Mack, they say, but definitely cheaper to maintain, and so most people gradually moved to it.
Unfortunately, like it happens even to very big conglomerates, he didn't immediately discern that Mack was going out of fashion for his clients; and understandably, he didn't therefore make the initiative to consider switching over on time too. This was not because of the inability to repair the new brand.
When Howo was new in Maiduguri some 15 years ago or so, he was among the earliest to demystify it. He unbuckled it from top to ground and fixed it. It was for that that his master's workshop where he apprenticed started accepting offers to repair the brand. Now, because he didn't make the transition at the right time, he now came to find out that he actually has very few clients left.
By the time he considered switching over to the new brand, it was already terribly saturated because it is not as complex as Mack used to be. As usual, when there are too many people in a sector, the first victim becomes cost. It would be terribly lowered that, for him and his kind of situation, it could no longer pay his bills. Now, that's the important story I want to tell.
He decided then to venture into transportation. He managed to assemble a grounded truck to start transporting goods, especially petrol, from the South to the North. It is so sad that this transition wasn't very smooth for him. After less than a year, he was thrown out of the business in a way that was very grounding.
An anti-bunkering squad operatives stormed Warri one day and launched a midnight operation. In our military's scorched earth operations, which I am very familiar with as someone who had covered Boko Haram since its start, they most often than not, go after everything that looks like their target. His truck, which got stuck after a heavy rainfall, as a result of the poor roads in some parts of the region, was set ablaze and burnt entirely. He could not say a word in protest, for it could have cost him his dear life. He went there with a truck worth over N40 million but returned with nothing, not even its key.
As if that's not enough, that was only merely the beginning of so many other tribulations. The tank attached to the truck was hired, and so, if nothing, he would have to pay for it. Interestingly, immediately the news was out, his associate who fronted for him to hire the tank was arrested and locked up. I mean, what kind of society does that? There was no any talk about how he was hoping to repay it or how it happened. I am not a lawyer, but this was even as there was no any written agreement between the two parties addressing cases of loss or something. He had to pay through the nose and write an outrageous undertaking under duress to bail himself out of police cell.
When all these happened, I asked my friend to take time off everything for a few days to recover, de-clutter and make sense of all that had happened. I mean, he was brought aground overnight. He could not afford to do anything. Then, the trauma of losing his first child in the midst of this, coupled with an even more spirit dampening lack, threw him into an obvious catch-22. In between that, the time his friend had given to repay the tank, indeed under what could involve a pinch of duress and/or blackmail, elapsed and police launched a manhunt to re-arrest him (the friend).
Since he didn't want his friend to face the music of his own iniquities, he told me he would go and face whatever that was waiting for him. What was waiting for him was an arrest! He went to the police station, where the case was lodged, as a responsible citizen would, to take responsibility for what had happened and to seek some clemency and respite that would allow him to plan how to settle the owner. The owner wouldn’t listen, insisting that he wants his tank or Naira equivalent of it instantly back. And since he could not understandably do that at that moment, he was thrown into the cell!
Now, here is my hair-splitting dilemma about japa. We got lawyers to intervene and at least get him on bail and take the matter to court since the police could not do anything further. Interestingly, it was hard to persuade the police to grant the bail; but what, to my dismay, was more difficult was getting a surety to step in. I mean, this was a town he has stayed for a decade and half. He was never known for any crime. He would, in fact, help his apprentices to own houses, get married and what have you. But in this same town, there was no one who could stand for him! The downside of leaving your comfort zone?
Almost everyone we spoke to, even those who knew him as neighbors, were requesting to be paid before they would undertake to be his surety. As far as I know, the case wasn't criminal, to assume that there would have some moral implications. Similarly, this was a man who reported to the police state all by himself. If he had chosen to be irresponsible, he wouldn't have even returned to the town. This left me wondering, you know. What if he fell helplessly sick in this town? Like, would he find blood donors? Or anyone to rush him to a nearby clinic?
I mean, there are extremely great and kind people all over the world; but my friend was not really lucky to have met them in that, at least on this matter. It was a terrible shocker to me!