By Edwin Mamman

In this our land we have a term for suffering, shege. The proverbial phrase seeing shege is a present participle tense that describes the action of going through it — suffering. And there’s levels to it you see, because in this our land we’re all in the same hell, just different levels. 

Shege is the most basic unit of suffering in this our land, there’s enough of that breakfast to go around regardless of your social status. 

Shege lite is a step or two above the basic unit depending on your social class. It is those little life’s inconveniences that add to your universal suffering, causing you unnecessary discomfort. Shege lite could be anything, like your gas finishing on a Monday morning as you get ready for work, knowing damn well that you can’t abandon your work to go refill it, and by the time you close from work by 6pm, so have the gas stations. So you either risk getting fired from your job to refill your gas cylinder, or endure an entire week of inconvenience. Ma binu boda, living in this our land is an extreme sport. 

Shege pro is shege lite on speed. At this stage you’re really in it, as Greg from Everybody Hates Chris would say, “dude, you’re so in there”. See ehn, when you’re in shege pro, o ti wa ni idoti. This is when things start to get real messy. This is when you go from shaving weekly to shaving once a month. This is when you stop by the roadside to buy ata of 200 naira and incure a flat tyre of 3k, and here’s the plot twist: you have only 2k in your bank account, and no spare tyre in your car trunk! This is when your gas finishes on a Monday and you can’t refill it until the end of the month, or the third day of the next month if your job decide to be instruments of the devil. This is when your electricity unit runs out at 11pm and you sigh a big disappointing hmmm as you cross your arms and legs on your bed staring at the ceiling while your neighbour’s security light shines into your window. Ma binu boda, it’s all down hill from there. 

Shege pro max is the babanlla of them all. The shege of all sheges. The leveler. The respecter of no man. This is when you’re in it and of it. At this point, ko si owo. Even the upper class are not exempt. Shege pro max is when you go from begging for urgent 10k to begging for urgent 1k to go to work because even the 1k is as scarce as live broiler chicken on Christmas day. This is when you and the rich hassle for the same newly redesigned naira notes, when you and the rich all queue up at A.A RANO because it is the only filling station selling fuel at 300 naira per litre. And in case you’re just realizing it, the rich are very frugal, they would rather tongue kiss a pus infected sore than part with 200 naira extra on fuel, they die there! This is when both roadside beggars and men dressed in neatly pressed kaftans beg you for 100 naira to eat because in this our land, shege no dey look face. This is when mothers cry as their children die because hospitals won’t treat them for free, and banks won’t release money, and even internet and mobile banking services are showing them shege. This is when the rich have stacks of old 1000 and 500 naira notes they can’t spend because las las e don cast. At shege pro max, everybody feels the heat regardless of which level of hell you’re in. 

In this our land, they like to makes us queue up unnecessarily. They make us queue up for our money, they make us queue up for our PVCs, they make us queue up to vote, they make is queue up to buy fuel. Pick your poison because in this our land, something must kill a man. 

In this our land, your job might kill you faster than a bullet. If you’re not dodging dangerously overloaded and tilting trailers threatening to fall on your head on your way to work, your job might just give you a heart attack by delaying your salary, again! After scattering your adashe from last month and making you collect all the bashi in Africa. If they don’t succeed with the heart attack, they’ll punish you with crippling back ache and bad posture from working 8-6 everyday. But how dare you complain? You’re even lucky if you have a job in this our land. 

In this our land, it is a dog eat dog affair. Everyone capitalizes on any given opportunity to exploit you. The POS operators charge you exorbitantly for using their services because “money is scarce”. If you manage to spend your old naira notes anywhere don’t expect change because they’re “doing you a favour”. The government will spoil you with electricity for three months leading up to the elections, and then pull the rug from under your feet after elections. Clinking wine glasses in their villas, while you crinkle your nose and frown at the stew and goat meat in your freezer that is going stale. 

But here’s the good news, if you can survive in this our land, you can survive anywhere in the world. 

Photos by Muhammad-taha Ibrahim on Pexels

This article appeared in the magazine Punocracy.

Edwin Mamman is a sonographer, and writer. He has work published on KAFART’s The Revue, African Writers Space and forthcoming elsewhere. He blogs on WordPress under the pseudonym LareWrites, and sometimes contributes to Life’s Essentials blogspot on WordPress.

Edwin writes from Kaduna, Nigeria. When he’s not working, reading and writing, he enjoys movies, music, and a walk in nature. He tweets @edwinmamman.