Yes, these people are magicians!
We spend a lot of money on recharge vouchers. Yet, the hard earned Naira, and kobo too in this context, is not paid for service. It’s magic they give us. You may be wondering what this Ijebu born, Cotonou bred, Somolu based illiterate that I am means by magic.
The technological innovation that makes it possible for you connect with people worlds away by just making a choice? There’s voice call,video call, Facebook, twitter, BBM, Whatsapp, Viber, et cetera (the list just keeps expanding, it’s hard to keep up) to choose from.
In the days of Remedies, Plantashun boiz, and IK Dairo, prior to this century, this would’ve been magic to any Nigerian, it isn’t now. The kind of magic I’m driving at is magic, real magic, abracadabra magic, and would always be magic. Well, except Einstein or one of his pals resurrects and formulates some mad ass theory to explain it.
First, I need to browse, but can’t seem to get a connection on my phone. My network notification should show H+ meaning I can go very fast ( though not as fast as I want). But it won’t show anything at all. I seriously need to do some downloads, post some photos, tweet, blog and set some P. I know my internet settings are alright, still I contact my service provider for the correct setting. When they send it (if they send it), I install. Nothing. I call help center and request to speak with an agent. On a good day when I get one, he guides me manually to check my settings. They’re correct, still nothing.
Then I get real frustrated and resort to checking my sim if it’s broken or something. The moment I start opening the back cover of my phone, my phone starts vibrating and pinging with all the messages and emails coming. I check and see my H+ standing bold and firm like the sun of the savannah and my browsing speed faster than Usain Bolt on his best day. Tell me, magic or not?
Sometimes it’s the network not coming up at all. I try everything but still, nada, no network. Then I blow some air over my phone screen and network comes… then goes. I blow again, it comes. I stop blowing, it goes. Then I wizen up enough to know that I have to blow air over the phone screen before my network can function. Other times it’s my lying/sitting position; up, network, down, no network.
One time I was trying to download some movies but was having a very slow connection. My right hand was already getting too tired holding the device for almost an hour with little progress made. I switched my phone to my left hand and voila! My connection instantly sped up as if some dreadful Sasabonsan* had suddenly started chasing it. After some time, I unconsciously switch back to using my right hand and immediately my connection is once again competing with the snail for the world’s slowest thing. My brother, my sister, shey no be magic be this?
Add that to the traumatizing harrowing experience of having to hold up your phone in one position to ensure network stability. Here, all the aspects of my physical fitness and mental endurance are stretched to their limits. I’m like a kung fu master during balance training. I have to be poised, alert, focused, concentrated, to ensure that my phone doesn’t move an inch away from optimum position. It’s intense. It’s more like telekinesis, like hypnosis, it’s magic!
Then there’s the hotspot. Mind you, the hotspot is not a data tethering wireless device I connect to. It’s literally the spot that is hot, the only spot in my room where I get network connection. And it’s a really awkward spot, inside my wardrobe. Like any other “hotspot”, it has to be set up. I have to stuff my self inside my wardrobe with the stench of stale perfume on unwashed shirts and worse, some other offensive odour from laundry-due underwear. Now, don’t you dare get it twisted, I’m a neat guy, but I ain’t got enough kudi for any wash, so my dirty clothes squat with my neat clothes-in separate compartments-until I have the time, capisce?
As I was saying, the set up procedure involves me sitting uncomfortably in my wardrobe and waving my phone up and down like a wand. I wave, I browse, then I wave again to “find” the connection, circle continues. If I want it faster I have to mutter some spells too, you know like Harry Potter, “Hotspotus!”, “Browserus Fasterus!!”, “God punish this network papanus!!!” and those sorta shiiii.
Worse thing about the hotspot is that it’s not a constant spot and it’s quite difficult to spot. I could wake up tomorrow and those people’d have transferred my hotspot from my wardrobe to the toilet. Then a brotha’d have to choose between bad network connection and the good smell of shit.
You may be a fan of J. K. Rowlings and J. R. R. Tolkien. You may idolize Gandalf, Dumbledore (same guy by the way), Harry Potter, Zedicus Zui Zorrander (that is if you still remember). You may be a Harry Potter-pedia like some guys I know, but you’re in no Muggle world. Except you’re a Mugu that hasn’t noticed or you, like me initially, are thinking it’s a problem with your phone. It isn’t!!! This is magic, and you haven’t seen half of it!
*comes out of wardrobe
Originally published on Naijastories at
See your doctor if you didn’t laugh thoroughly after reading this! And if you’ve never had any of the experiences mentioned, see your pastor!
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