Of petroleum marketers and private hell

File photo of where it all started

Tupac had spent less than 10 minutes in hell when the devil found him smoking a sizeable wrap of igbo. Alarmed at Shakur's possible ambitions, the devil gave him some fuel and lighter, saying “go and establish your own hell. This one is mine.”

When President Goodluck Jonathan woke up one good morning and threw fuel subsidy away, Nigerians took to the streets as labour unions shut down the country. In Lagos, protests turned to carnivals and the opposition provided the victuals. For me, it was difficult to decide whether we were all intoxicated by the smell of fuel in the air (but none to use), happy to be freed from boredom or dangling from the strings of a puppeteer.

Yes, Bros Jona has the gift of creating the impression of waking up from a haze and springing surprises. But at worst, fuel would have been sold for N200 per litre. At best, market forces will force down the price. Except, expectedly, the marketers form a cartel to fix price and blind government regulators with a few dollars more. Whichever way the tombo tomobo mess Calabar swings, Nigerians will buy. Just make the product is available.

But no. Some collect the money, lift the product and send it outside the country. This set of humans are saints compared to those that just registered companies, collect subsidy money but lift nothing. Some day, a Pharaoh that does not know Joseph will climb the throne. This Pharaoh will demand answers from Ogas at the top who send jets to UK just to get cupcakes. This Pharaoh will build economic pyramids for Nigeria on the backs of those laughable imitation of statesmen, who look more like mobile refineries, that appeared for the last council of state meeting. Dream? Well, no harm in that. They too are in a dream. Especially if they do not know that a spark from one of the fuel tankers that have shut down Lagos can set off an inferno that will consume them.

Let me tell you what Bros Jona (like Snowball of Animal Farm) can do. While the self-deceit called subsidy strike lasted, a special arrangement was made to move me around. On a particular day, the vehicle that was supposed to pick me found its way to someone else's wife's shop. It became a distribution truck. The person responsible for that mishap, like everyone else who has a tongue, blames everything on President Jonathan. Sai Baba! I pity you. I do not see a thick skin on you.

Tupac might not be in hell and that anecdote is a fabrication from the fertile mind of a comedian. But it reminds one of the private hell more than 170 million Nigerians thrive in daily. Every home is a country since it provides its own security, light, water and other necessities a government is supposed to take care of as a matter of duty. But what is my complain when Aso Rock has billions budgeted for power generators' fuel?

However, something must give. Soon. If the devil can be scared into allowing another man create a personal hell, these marketers are his cousins. More sympathetic cousins. For they do not wait for us to ask or act. Now, you have your money, you cannot get the product. Since electricity is provided long enough for us to know such technology exists, every night is a nightmare that drives Nigerians into kilometres-long queues in fuel stations that regulate the cost of a litre in your presence.

If there is still hell, the devil must be reserving it for Nigerian fuel marketers. It is one thing they cannot unprivatize. Tupac will not allow them in his as he might mistake them for white police officers killing his beloved homies. If, however, Tupac turns his to a heaven, our marketers must find a way to defeat death. There is a Shakur in every Nigerian that marketers have forced into a private hell.