BVN Palavar: Read a hilarious story of a man's experience with a white man at G.T bank

This morning, as I landed in Lagos, I made to the nearest GTB to transact. The queue from inside the banking hall to the bank entrance was crazy. They are customers who wanna register for their BVN, I was told. Today is the last day for registration, they said. I wished them well as I aligned with the shorter queue for customers who wanna deposit cash.

Soon, from the BVN queue, a woman began to scream. The only thing I was able to pick from the scream, 'se ori meji loni ni? (does he have two heads?' I stepped out of my queue, to go and gbeborun, to see what or who was tormenting this woman. These GTB staff that are always garbed in white military-like uniform; are they drivers or security men? About three of them had just came in with one whiteman. And they took the whiteman straight to the lady at the BVN desk. And the lady, too, was already attending to the whiteman while the queue watched, and waited, except this woman.

For a moment, I observed things. The woman screaming against this white supremacy on the soil of Africa is one local market woman. I figured through her dressing, the way she tied her purse around her waist, and when she lamented that they left their wares to come join this queue since they heard the exercise was gonna close today. The men in white and the whiteman weren't bothered by the woman's noise. It was a case of allowing the dog bark all it can till it can bark no more. The people on the queue were indifferent. Some of them, their looks carried the undertone, 'shey this woman wey dey shout want oyinbo to join the queue ni? Haba!'

I stepped into the circle, calming the woman. And then, I took the fight from there. I banged the desk twice, and instantly I got everyone's attention. How can these men in white bring this man in and wouldn't tell him to join the queue? I began. Hey madam, pointing to GTB staff by the BVN desk, you can only attend to this man when he joins the queue! Who are you? One of the idiots in white turned at me. I jega'ed him. I am a ten year old customer of GTB, I said, with a brief smile. At this point, everything stood still. Tell this man to join the queue, I insisted. When the whiteman's eyes met mine, I expected him to talk. He didn't. I did the talking. Is this how you do from where you come from, huh? I threw into his face. Is this how you will connive with staff to jump over the queue when at the Barclays Bank in London or the Royal Bank in Edinburgh or Dime Savings Bank of New York? Ha, we don't do like that here in Nigeria o. We follow due-process. Mafi bredi komi lomi obe je, ogbeni oyinbo! L'Eko Ile? Oma to sori queue yen ni se. He folded his arms and looked on imperiously.

At this point, the bank top officials had gathered around. There were attempts to 'rescue' the whiteman to their office upstairs. I halted it. The moment I noticed, I told them that if they go attend to the whiteman upstairs, I will tell everyone on the queue to march upstairs, too. And then, they resorted to begging. And even the woman whose fight I had taken ownership of started to beg me. Otito Baba Oko mi, she pleaded. No, oyinbo MUST join the queue! Their pleading fuelled my anger. What is that?

These things that come with neo-imperialism sha. I've also heard about how whitemen smoke in places marked No Smoking at the Nigerian airport, and they go, without being penalised as would Nigerian offenders.

Sigh.