My PVC story

We all sat anxiously on the couch waiting for Papa to come back from his patriotic act of being a good citizen. It was the 2003 elections and since my elder sister and I weren’t of voting age and mama was heavily pregnant at that time, Papa was the only one left to go vote. He was exacerbated by the ridiculous narratives of being a good citizen and we all cheered as he went out in honor to cast his vote to the deserving man.

At intervals, we would always call papa to know how he was doing as there were rumors of violence and stealing of ballot boxes at different poll points. Papa was ok until the headlines on the TV came on and the results of the elections were read and the winner declared while poor papa still stood in line waiting to cast his vote. It was an experience we would never forget as my mama didn’t stop laughing at papa for more than two weeks. She kept saying ‘’I commend your patriotic moves’’’, and each time she did it, she gave him a thumbs up.

This experience didn’t stop my lovely papa from voting as I took his footsteps and decided I was going to make my vote ‘’Count’’ come 2019.  On this note the patriotic gene in me which obviously I inherited from Papa was in action on that morning I woke up and decided I was going to get my PVC. Not even work could come in the way of my grand plan.

I got to work and tidied a few back log of email responses and paper works, then I googled for the nearest location where I could get a PVC. The first place I went to was an old primary school which was quite difficult to locate, but thank Goodness that the taxi driver was good with the road networks. On getting there I was told I couldn’t get the PVC there as they had closed the center.

I proceeded to the next place which was Ikeja Local Government. I met an elderly man and without looking at my face he asked if I had the temporary voter’s card. My response was no as I had lost mine years ago when I lost my lovely black leather wallet my sister gifted me. (Well I forced her to give it to me). Then he said he couldn’t help me because they had been decentralized. I was yet again directed to another primary school which took me almost two hours to get to. Lagos traffic wasn’t helping issues and I was really tensed and getting angry at this point.

My taxi fare at this point was rapidly increasing and time was no longer on my side. The third location had closed and the few people there sparely scattered around and discussing in their native dialect said I should come back the next day and if I wanted to get a PVC, I should be there as early as 5am.

However, they directed me to another location they claimed closes by 6pm. At this point I was already in a village. Sweaty palms, agitated spirit, squeezed face and a pouty mouth, I proceeded to the next location that had conveniently ran out of materials and had closed for the day.

Warm tears were already dripping down my face. It took me another three hours to get home as it was already too late to get back to the office. I was consumed with anger and I took out part of it on my sister who I called to console me but instead she blamed me for not starting the PVC journey early.

I wouldn't want to bore you guys with my second and third attempt. It was horrible.

Now, considering I’m an ordinary citizen with no special privileges, I didn't give up. I do hope my vote counts as my labor will not be in vain.

Dear INEC, please do a great job come 2019 and may our votes count indeed. Secondly may what happened to my papa in 2003 never repeat itself. Thanks

NB: I should have posted this a long time ago