”Some day, Nigerian citizens’ votes will count. Someday, your votes will make a difference. However, it will not happen in this election. The winners have already been pre-determined, and there’s nothing you can do about it”.

I kept hearing these words in my head, the words of a dear friend to me a few days earlier as he tried to dissuade me from exercising my franchise. He was abroad and had heard so much about the palpable tension in the country and the post-election violence that was “sure” to follow; he felt staying put in my house was the best way to guarantee my safety.

I kept turning on my bed as those words kept sinking in and were doing their best to make me give up my dreams. I felt like a coward, hiding out there in my house while I had my Permanent Voter Card (PVC) lying undisturbed in my wallet, waiting to be used.

All of a sudden, thoughts began to flow through my mind, “That ‘someday’ can be today”. “That ‘someday’ can start now”. “What if there’s no violence”? These thoughts struck me like a thunderbolt. I sat upright on my bed and looked at the wall clock. It was already 9am. I quickly rushed out of the room, hurriedly brushed my teeth, managed to rinse my face, arms and feet in the traditional “rub and shine”, and then applied a generous dose of perfume. Aah! Bless those who came up with this perfume invention. I quickly put on my casuals and footwear and made for the door! Oh! I almost forgot my wallet. I dashed back, picked up the wallet, opened it to be sure my precious PVC was still intact, smiled and made for the door once again. Thank God the polling station was just 5 minutes away. I could still make it on time for the accreditation.

;

At the polling station, I saw a sizeable crowd of people. Some had been there as early as 7.30am, some at some point later, while others were still strolling in after I had arrived. I noticed a good number of my friends,  neighbours assigned to same polling unit were absent. I instantly picked up my phone and started calling as many as I could in order to know why they were not yet at the polling station. “Mr. Ejike, what is going on”? “Won’t you come out to vote”? “Mr. Mba, what are you still doing at home when accreditation is supposed to start by 8am”? “Mr. Nuhu, what about you”? “Mrs. Jide, you nko. Where are you”? Some people decided either to go on retreat or indoor vacation on that day, and their phones were switched off, probably to avoid callers like me. I got varying responses:

“I’ll soon be there”

“The last time I voted, did they use my vote for anything? Why should I vote again?”

“Haven’t you heard that politicians have sent their families abroad before this election? Na me go come die for those useless idiots?”

“Nigeria’s not worth my time”

“Nigeria’s not worth my life”

“Haven’t you heard that superpower’s prediction concerning Nigeria in 2015? You wan dey outside when katakata go burst?”

“I can guarantee I will vote, but after voting, nko?”

At a point, I just quit calling. Already, I could see a call coming in from my overseas friend. He believed he had succeeded in convincing me not to vote. He would be disappointed now on hearing I was at the polling station. I didn’t care. I had already made my decision. I just allowed the phone to ring on, and once the call ended, I quickly switched off the phone. Perhaps, the people sitting out at home needed a stronger force to push them out to the polling station, just like it happened to me.

Exactly by 9.45am, the accreditation commenced. We were an hour and forty-five minutes behind schedule. A lot of murmurings and agitations had preceded this. It was no longer funny standing up under the sun. Some had already gone to sit somewhere around. I could also see some people wearing party caps and T-shirts mingling with the crowd. These should be party agents, I thought. I could see some other people whom I guessed were election observers talking with the electoral officials. A scramble for the line began a lot of shoving and pushing, as everybody struggled to get a vantage position in the queue.

After securing a space in the line, I quickly brought out my phone and opened my Facebook App to make a post about the accreditation that was just commencing at my centre. After that, I read some posts from people around the country. Someone said accreditation started exactly by 8am at his centre and it had been peaceful. What? Where? That’s remarkable. Different times for different places. In some other places, electoral officials were yet to be seen and the people were getting restive. I put off my phone and concentrated on the line that was already moving fast.

I observed that many of the party agents were milling around the voters on the queue, talking with them, gesticulating, with various expressions on their faces. I could also see some money exchanging hands. I could see some “packages” some distance from the queue. “Even on election day”, I muttered. I just turned the other way and decided to focus on the positives. About two minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a well-built party agent with rough moustache and an awkward smile bringing out his hand for a shake. I reluctantly obliged him. “Oga, e be like say you never chop this morning”, he started. “Yes O!” I replied. “I woke up late and had to rush out of the house just to meet up. I didn’t even take my bath”. “Eiya!” he replied. “No worry; soon the election go end, and you go go house go relax”. “Thank you”, I replied, trying my best to force a smile. I liked his sense of humour, though, and his “caring”. He then got to the stage I had been expecting. “Oga, I no say you sabi who you go vote for this election”? he asked. “Yes, of course”, I replied, keeping a straight face. I don’t like people asking me on Election Day, and especially at the polling station, who I was going to vote for. Unfortunately, that turned out to be his next question. “So, Sir, who be the person you go vote”? “Well”, I replied, trying my best to maintain my cool. “Who I will vote or not vote remains known to only myself and God. I can’t disclose it to anybody here.” “Aah! Aah! Oga, you harsh small o”, the man responded. “Ok, let’s do it this way: Mr … from our party, Senator … from our party, Honourable … from our party, are the right people to vote. Please vote for them, and your life will never remain the same”, he enthused. “Mr. Sam”, I replied (He had earlier told me his name). “Do our electoral laws permit campaigns on election day”? “This thing you are doing is illegal o!” “Haba! Oga, na Naija we dey o; nobody is checking that one now. Ok. Just as my friend, I go shack you up for that corner”. He pointed to somewhere a little distance away, with some crates of drinks packed. What! I exclaimed. Potential weapons (bottles) around a polling station. “On top of the drink”, he continued, “I go give you 500 Naira just to take dey okay, after you don vote finish. He quickly reached for his pocket and brought out 500 Naira note and stretched it towards me. I shook my head and reached for my wallet.”Mr. Sam, I’ll give you 500 Naira too, but I want you to stay away from me as long as we’re in this polling station”. He was taken aback, as both of us stood facing each other holding out 500 naira notes. The attention of some voters had been drawn to the ensuing drama and they stood watching. The man shook his head, put his money into his pocket and faced me, his eyes now bloodshot and his voice thundering with anger. “Mr. Man, whether you like it or not, our candidates will surely win this election. I’m just doing you a favour. Rubbish!!! Nonsense!!!. He stormed away and went to a different section of the line.



The little crowd that had gathered around me started expressing their views. “You for collect the money now”, one said. “After all, they no go sabi who you eventually vote for”. “Na only you go change this country”? One jokingly said, “You for collect the money, come give me. I need am o!” We just laughed it off and everybody returned to his position on the line. Subsequently, no other party agent showed up around our area.

The line was steadily progressing, and soon I was close to the front. We saw some voters standing close to the electoral officials. Their PVCs could not be verified by the electronic card reader. They stood anxiously, waiting to know if they would still be allowed to vote. I started praying earnestly, “Father, please don’t allow this card reader to reject my PVC today”. The thought of having that party agent laugh me to scorn made a cold sweat break out on my forehead. I obtained the card legitimately. I must vote o! Soon, it was my turn. I fidgeted a bit as I brought out my voter’s card. I was as tensed up as a university undergraduate writing his final exams. Ta da! I had been cleared to vote. I felt like hugging the official. He smiled at me. I quickly asked him, “Oga, what will happen to these people whose cards were rejected? Isn’t it possible there’s a little problem with your card reader? And their number is quite sizeable”. “We’ll call our Oga; he’ll tell us what to do”, was his firm reply. I thanked him and moved away.

After the whole accreditation exercise, we started voting. We were behind schedule again. Oh! No! A decision had also been reached on those with the rejected PVCs (don’t ask me o). The crowd was really excited as everybody his franchise. Occasional outbreaks of arguments especially involving party agents and even the observers regarding the agents’ inappropriate conduct around a voter were seen. Some agents even outrightly accused the electoral officials of conniving to favour some particular parties, an allegation that didn’t go down well with the officials and which they hotly contested. Once in a while, an enlightened and determined voter who knew his rights would challenge the agents as they tried to maneuver him to vote their preferred candidate. The agents would then keep a safe distance.

I got in to vote. It was quite uneventful. I was surprised nobody came to pester me. The “#500 agent” as I nicknamed him, was at a corner eyeing me, but dared not come close. I just voted and quickly left the centre. Going home, of course! I should stay till the votes are counted? Hmm! I need someone to convince me more about that part. Maybe, I’ll wait by next election, but definitely not today. As I left, I could see some policemen hanging around outside the premises. Not much work for them at this centre today, I guess. All in all, the election could be described as peaceful.

I went home that day, happy I had, once again, exercised my franchise, and also praying my votes would “start counting” from this elections. For the rest of the day, I had the television on, keenly following the reports of the conduct of the elections across the 36 states of the country, and the Federal Capital Territory.

For those still dragging their feet, make up your mind NOW. Your votes may “start counting” as from this election. It may “start counting” sooner than you think. The “worst” that is being feared may also not happen after all. Your vote is your civic responsibility.

https://realmindfactory./2015/03/27/exercising-my-franchise/