Adaobi Nwaubani - I Do Not Come to You by Chance

BEEN SEIZED BY THIS GOVERNMENT, PENDING WHEN THEY FINISH DEALING WITH US.

THIS ARRANGEMENT IS KNOWN ONLY TO YOU, MY HUSBAND’S YOUNGER BROTHER (WHO IS CONTACTING YOU) AND I. AS SURVEILLANCE IS CONSTANTLY ON ME, MY HUSBAND’S BROTHER WILL DEAL DIRECTLY WITH YOU. HIS NAME IS SHEHU. SHEHU IS LIKE A BROTHER TO ME. THE NIGERIAN GOVERNMENT DOES NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS MONEY, NOBODY ELSE KNOWS ANYTHING, SO THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR.

IF YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO HELP ME, PLEASE DO NOT EXPOSE ME. JUST ASSUME WE NEVER DISCUSSED THIS MATTER. BUT I WILL BE MOST GRATEFUL AND WOULD SHOW MY APPRECIATION IF YOU CAN HELP TO RESTORE LIFE AND HOPE IN MY FAMILY AGAIN.

ADEQUATE ARRANGEMENT HAS BEEN MADE FOR RECEIVING THE FUNDS. IT IS TOTALLY RISK FREE.

I AWAIT YOUR URGENT RESPONSE. PLEASE REPLY THROUGH THIS EMAIL. SHEHU WILL RESPOND ON MY BEHALF.

YOURS SINCERELY, HAJIA MARIAM ABACHA

I watched my cursor hover on the Send icon. Out of the thousands of messages I blasted out every day, very few were replied to. But once an initial contact was established, there was a seventy per cent chance that I would make a hit. Even after all this while, I still felt a slight apprehension about the sudden changes my emails could bring about in a stranger’s life.

The lady in Wisconsin had gulped down my story about a businessman client of mine who had died suddenly of a heart attack while vacationing in the South of France. My businessman client had not listed any next of kin. His domiciliary account fixed deposit balance currently stood at $19 million (USD). If she agreed to bear the huge burden of next of kin, we would share the proceeds 60/40. But she must first sign an agreement promising to send my sixty per cent as soon as she received the money into her account. After a few email exchanges, the kind lady granted me permission to doctor some documents that would qualify her to claim the money. Then, I went for the hit.

DEAR MIRABELLE,

THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND ASSISTANCE AND YOUR AGREEMENT TO PARTNER WITH ME OVER THIS VERY DELICATE BUSINESS. I HAVE ALREADY INITIATED PROCEEDINGS FOR THE TRANSFER OF THE FUNDS. COULD YOU PLEASE SEND FOUR THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS ($4,500 USD) FOR THE PROCESSING OF THE DEATH AUTHORISATION FORM? ALSO SEND ALONG FOUR COPIES OF YOUR RECENT PASSPORT PHOTOGRAPH. PLEASE DO THIS IMMEDIATELY TO AVOID DELAYS. THE DEPOSIT WILL BE RELEASED TO YOU WITHIN SEVEN WORKING DAYS.

I AWAIT YOUR URGENT RESPONSE.

YOURS SINCERELY,

OSONDIOWENDI

She played volleyball.

When the Western Union official removed his five percent silencing fee and handed me the rest, I clasped the bundle and shut my eyes tight. I am not sure for how long I stood there. Eventually, I regained consciousness and opened my eyes. The money was still there. I wanted to jump, to shout, to run through the streets crying, ‘Goal’! At last, the Book of Remembrance had been opened and Fortune had called out my name. The sun peeped in through the windows of the dank collection office and flashed me a smile. I counted the cash two more times before I left.

After Protocol Officer had removed Cash Daddy’s sixty percent, I counted the bundle again. Several times throughout the rest of the day, I hauled the notes from my pockets and recounted. That night, I lay in bed with the wad cradled neatly under my pillow. At 2 a.m., I woke up and recounted. I did the same thing at 4 a.m… By 7 a.m., I had scrambled out of bed and confirmed that the money was still there.

Two thousand dollars had not been enough to buy my mother a brand new car. I bought her a jar of cooking gas, some new wrappers, and a bag of rice instead. For a change, I was giving. Not taking.

I felt like a real opara.

Over a period of two months, Mirabelle sang dough-re-mi to the tune of about $23,000. For processing of a Death Authorisation Certificate, Next Of Kin Affirmation, Bank Recognition Form, and Deceased Demise Declaration. Then I sent another email explaining that $7,000 was required for the Fund Transfer Repatriation. This, I promised, would be the very final payment before she received the $19 million. Her reply shocked me.

Dear Osondiowendi,

I’m so sorry to cause delays but I’ve spoken with a close friend who’s promised to lend me the $7,000 but he says he won’t be able till next weekend. Don’t worry, I didn’t breach your confidence. He’s my ex-boyfriend and I told him some BS story about how the money was to start IVF treatment before my partner will be ready with the money at the end of the month. He didn’t ask too many questions when I promised to pay him back double:).

Could you also please let me know when exactly the money is going to be in my account? The reason is I’ve been taking out of the money me and my partner are putting together to move into our own home and I want to be sure to replace it before he notices it’s gone.

Yours,

Mirabelle

This note caused my heart to crack. The poor woman would find herself in a cauldron of debt and disaster when the money she was expecting did not show up. Who knows what comforts the couple had forfeited in saving up to buy a house? What if she was actually hoping to start IVF treatment? Here was a real life happening behind the curtains of an email address. It was a bit unrealistic refunding what we had eaten so far, but I thought, at least, we could shred the job. I spoke with Cash Daddy about the unique problem on our hands.

‘Kings,’ he said when I had finished explaining.

I waited.

‘Kings,’ he called again.

‘Yes, Cash Daddy?’

‘This woman… what’s her name?’

‘Her name is Mirabelle.’

‘No, no, no… what’s her full name? Her surname?’

‘Winfrey. Mirabelle Winfrey.’

He sighed deeply and shook his head remorsefully.

‘Kings.’

‘Yes, Cash Daddy?’

‘Is she your sister?’

I did not reply.

‘Go on… answer me. Is she your sister?’

‘No.’

‘Is she your cousin?’

‘No.’

‘Is she your brother’s wife?’

‘No.’

‘Is she your mother’s sister?’

I got the point.

‘Go on… answer me.’

‘No.’

‘Is she your father’s sister?’

‘No.’

He shrugged. Then as an afterthought: ‘Is she from your village?’

‘No.’

‘So why are you swallowing Panadol for another person’s headache?’

‘Cash Daddy,’ I persisted. ‘The woman borrowed the money she’s been using to pay her bills. Her life is going to be ruined.’

He laughed.

‘Kings, with all the school you went, you still don’t know anything. These oyibo people are different from us. Don’t think America and Europe are like Nigeria where people suffer anyhow. Over there, their governments know how to take good care of them. They don’t know anything about suffering.’

He leaned closer.

‘Do you know that as you are right now – thank God you already have a job – but if you were a young man without a job abroad, the government will be giving you money every week? Can you imagine that? So you could even decide never to work again and just be collecting free money. They’ll even give you a house.’

I was not pacified. He must have seen it on my face.

‘OK,’ he continued. ‘You, you went to school. Did they not teach you about slave trade?’

‘They did.’

‘Who were the people behind it? And all the things they stole from Africa, have they paid us back?’

‘But Cash Daddy, can you imagine what will happen when her…,’ I knew about husbands and boyfriends and sugar daddies, but the word ‘partner’ was alien to my vocabulary, ‘… when her man finds out? At least let’s leave her with the one we’ve eaten so far and try and-’

‘Kings, sometimes I get very worried about you. Your attitude is not money-friendly at all. If you continue talking like this, soon, whenever money sees you coming into a room, it will just jump out through the window.’