So about that UNILORIN ex-student…

I woke up today to the story of that ex student of UNILORIN who recently withdrew from the school and really don’t know what to make it. In case you didn’t know what happened, the guy committed exam malpractice when he sat for WAEC many many years ago. The result of that exam (together with UME I assume) is what he used to gain admission into the University. But he recently became born again and decided to perform restitution. Since, he said, the foundation upon which he gained admission into the school is wrong, the best thing was to withdraw. He was a 300-level student of Sociology.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines restitution as “the restoration of something lost or stolen to the proper owner”, “recompense for injury or loss” or “restoration of something to its original state”. Going by these definitions, it is difficult to see how this action amounts to restitution, or solves any problem.

When I steal money from someone, invest and make profit, it is fit and proper to return the money to the owner, probably with all the profit. It is assumed that is what would have happened had the owner held the money and invested. If I steal money some years ago and used it to eat, do I go back to the owner and return the money, even if the guy is rich and doesn’t need it? Probably. Or if I stole a car. Because returning those items at least fulfils one or more of the definitions of restitution.

Which is where this particular instance befuddles. What is the loss that this action is supposed to recompense? What original state will be restored as a result of this? Even if you assume that every Nigerian university has a fixed number of students it admits every year and therefore this student took someone else’s place, how does his withdrawal help the guy whose place he took (let’s even forget the more complex questions as to identifying the person and if this person did not get admitted into another, perhaps better school at that time)?

This is of course not the first time someone would take this action, and will not be the last. But it has always struck me as nothing more than a feel-good action to take. If a friend told me he was doing this, I would probably call him foolish. But if this is how he thinks he would best clear his conscience, who am I to begrudge him? A guilty conscience, as they say, is man’s greatest enemy.

I got my Driver’s Licence today. It’s a big deal.

Ok. It’s only a provisional licence to be exchanged for a permanent one after 18 months, subject to satisfactory driving record during that period.

Getting a driving licence in the United States is significantly more difficult than buying a gun, for example. And the process can be tedious. Let me explain.

The process is slightly different across the states but the fundamentals are the same. Here in Maryland, you first go to the Motor Vehicle Administration (MVA) and write a computer exam that tests your basic knowledge of driving instructions and road signs (there is a manual you can read online. Testing costs $50. You can also download apps to test yourself before that day). If you pass (I flunked the first attempt and had to schedule another one), you will be issued a learner’s permit. Then you have to attend an approved Driving School and sit through 30 hours of classroom (3 hours each day for 10 days, with a test at the end of each day) then six hours of road practice with an instructor (2 hours each day for 3 days). At least 3 hours of this road practice must be at night. When you are done with this and the school is satisfied that you can now drive, your details are transmitted to the MVA. You can then go online and schedule your MVA road driving test. But there is a caveat. If you’re less than 25, you have to wait till nine months after the day you got your learner’s permit before you can schedule a road test. If you’re at least 25, the waiting time is 45 days after your permit date. Of course trust Nigerians who don’t have time for all that senrenren. I was told I could bypass the driving school part of the process by paying a premium at some schools and just getting the certificate, so far you can drive. Going through the normal process at the driving school cost me $365 and a further $50 to expedite the road practice sessions with my instructor, so you can imagine how much the shortcut would have cost. Anywhere Naija people day, there is always a shortcut (although to be fair, I was told it’s not peculiar to Nigerians alone).

If you came here with your country’s driving licence, you can change it for a Maryland driving licence without going through a training school or writing the computer test, although you have to attend a 3-hour Drug and Alcohol training class (for $50), in addition to taking the compulsory MVA road test. I came here with an international driving licence which I have been using to drive since I got here last September (I used to drive 120 miles to and fro work each day). I tried to exchange this licence for a Maryland licence, but I was required to get a covering letter from the Nigerian Embassy which I got. When I went back to the MVA, they said international driving licences were not accepted. I arranged for someone to send me a local driving licence from Nigeria (don’t ask me how I got it — my name is not Oluwole ) but then the people at MVA asked me to get my driving record from Nigeria. Cue frustration. The lady attending to me saw I was annoyed and asked why I couldn’t just go through the normal process instead of trying to use my Nigerian licence. I told her I couldn’t wait for nine months. She asked if I wasn’t over 25. I told her I was. That was when she told me applicants who are at least 25 years old only have to wait for 45 days, not 9 months. Because the people around me going through the driving licence process were all below 25 (and so had to wait nine months), it never occurred to anyone to tell me I only need 45 days (of cos I am above 25, what do you think?!). I just started laughing.

It was July 2nd. My international driving licence was to expire on September 2nd. Even though I’d only been stopped on the road once (and even then I wasn’t asked to present a licence — a big surprise!), I always felt my luck would run out as soon as my licence expires.

I had no choice. I wrote the computer test a few minutes later.

This African mentality thing...

Yesterday, yours truly was in church.  And the sermon was lit. Let me tell you about it.

The Pastor started the sermon, the topic of which I cannot even remember now, like this:

“Have you heard of the new Smartphone game called Pokemon GO?” He then proceeded to describe how the game works and experiences shared by some users. These included people looking for pokemon at odd hours, some entering their neighbors’ apartment looking for it etc.

After stating these examples, the preacher asked rather rhetorically: “Pokeman GO means Pocket Monster. Isn’t it clear that this is another devise of the devil to capture the minds of the youths and destroy the world?”. He went on and on about this line of reasoning for some minutes, then continued with his sermon but kept making references to the game intermittently throughout.

At the end of the sermon you could tell everybody was moved. I could picture parents getting home and going through their children’s phones, deleting every version of this monster called Pokeman GO. Maybe they might even hold a family prayer meeting thereafter to cast and bind every and any evil spirit that might have entered the child before then.

I sat there, unable to do any other thing than laugh.

But it should not be a laughing matter. This is exactly the type of thinking that has kept Africa firmly in the threshold of under-development and perpetual darkness. And the church must take a large blame for this.

I do not doubt that many apps/games have downsides, chief of which is addiction. It also does not make sense to me that someone would leave his room at 12am looking for some game character that surely doesn’t exist. But to attach demon and evil to such game is downright silly. But this is what Africans do – we cannot invent anything of note but we are the first people to know which innovation is evil.  You would think Africans who live in developed world would not be beset by such trivial thoughts but you couldn’t be more wrong. Perhaps it is something in our DNA. Perhaps the gist about people in African villages remote-controlling Africans wherever they live is true. But the problem is there.

I used to think this problem is unique to Nigeria (and Nigerian pastors) but I was wrong. The RCCG church I attend here (grudgingly, as I still cannot find an Anglican Church I like) has a Nigerian as the Head Pastor but the preacher yesterday is Kenyan. I have a Ugandan colleague who thinks same-sex relationship is a bigger issue to Africa than poverty or any other failure. Most Africans who live and ‘thrive’ in capitalist, successful countries demand socialist governments at home.

The Pastor listed all experiences of Pokemon GO players that might appear negative but of course he conveniently forgot to mention the overwhelmingly positive experiences players have had, like helping people shed excess weight,  helping people improve their mental health, etc. The mind of the average (especially religious) African is wired to think about negativities.

Indeed, Africa is a country.

This African mentality thing...

Yesterday, yours truly was in church.  And the sermon was lit. Let me tell you about it.

The Pastor started the sermon, the topic of which I cannot even remember now, like this:

“Have you heard of the new Smartphone game called Pokemon GO?” He then proceeded to describe how the game works and experiences shared by some users. These included people looking for pokemon at odd hours, some entering their neighbors’ apartment looking for it etc.

After stating these examples, the preacher asked rather rhetorically: “Pokeman GO means Pocket Monster. Isn’t it clear that this is another devise of the devil to capture the minds of the youths and destroy the world?”. He went on and on about this line of reasoning for some minutes, then continued with his sermon but kept making references to the game intermittently throughout.

At the end of the sermon you could tell everybody was moved. I could picture parents getting home and going through their children’s phones, deleting every version of this monster called Pokeman GO. Maybe they might even hold a family prayer meeting thereafter to cast and bind every and any evil spirit that might have entered the child before then.

I sat there, unable to do any other thing than laugh.

But it should not be a laughing matter. This is exactly the type of thinking that has kept Africa firmly in the threshold of under-development and perpetual darkness. And the church must take a large blame for this.

I do not doubt that many apps/games have downsides, chief of which is addiction. It also does not make sense to me that someone would leave his room at 12am looking for some game character that surely doesn’t exist. But to attach demon and evil to such game is downright silly. But this is what Africans do – we cannot invent anything of note but we are the first people to know which innovation is evil.  You would think Africans who live in developed world would not be beset by such trivial thoughts but you couldn’t be more wrong. Perhaps it is something in our DNA. Perhaps the gist about people in African villages remote-controlling Africans wherever they live is true. But the problem is there.

I used to think this problem is unique to Nigeria (and Nigerian pastors) but I was wrong. The RCCG church I attend here (grudgingly, as I still cannot find an Anglican Church I like) has a Nigerian as the Head Pastor but the preacher yesterday is Kenyan. I have a Ugandan colleague who thinks same-sex relationship is a bigger issue to Africa than poverty or any other failure. Most Africans who live and ‘thrive’ in capitalist, successful countries demand socialist governments at home.

The Pastor listed all experiences of Pokemon GO players that might appear negative but of course he conveniently forgot to mention the overwhelmingly positive experiences players have had, like helping people shed excess weight, helping people improve their mental health, etc. The mind of the average (especially religious) African is wired to think about negativities.

Indeed, Africa is a country.

Hadiza Bala-Usman and the BBOG Conundrum

Reactions to the appointment of Hadiza Bala-Usman as the new Managing Director of the Nigerian Ports Authority (NPA), especially on social media, have been mixed.

I lay no claim to knowing her, but what I have read is that she has worked closely with El-Rufai for some time (as his aide at BPE (Bureau of Public Enterprises), Special Assistant when he was the FCT Minister (a role that is like the Mayor or Governor of Abuja) and until this week his Chief of Staff as Governor of Kaduna). Governor El-Rufai is of course an outstanding administrator and his skills should rub off on people working closely with him. Yet whether these experiences are enough to prepare one for a role as big as the MD of NPA is open to debate, but that is not why I am writing this. I am angered by comments on social media that have reduced her getting the job to her involvement with the Bring Back Our Girls (BBOG) campaign, where she was one of the founders. Some have even used her appointment as confirmation of their long-held doubts around the whole missing Chibok girls affair.

Ordinarily, I would ignore it. People who make such insinuations are not only foolish; they are a product of a dysfunctional society like ours that elevates suspicions beyond what is normal. I can also understand complaints by people who see it as another appointment from the North by a President who is increasingly becoming deaf to justified complaints of ethnic lopsidedness in his appointments. No, my anger is directed at the idea that key members of the BBOG, or any other advocacy group, cannot be tabbed by the government, whether state or federal, to fill important public offices in their personal capacities due to their advocacy roles. How did we arrive at this silly, stupid and very myopic position?

Mrs Ezekwesili is perhaps the most popular member of the BBOG group. Before now she had worked with the World Bank as VP, among other positions and served under President Obasanjo in various capacities, including as Minister in two ministries. If she is appointed to work with the government at any level, will she be disqualified based on her involvement with BBOG or will she have qualified for the position merely on account of such involvement? Is BBOG an opposition movement that its members are ethically constrained from joining the government, however qualified they are? Are we telling people of intellect and who are successful in their careers not to volunteer joining an advocacy group? What exactly is our problem?

In any case, using advocacy to launch yourself into national limelight is not a crime and it is not unique to Nigeria alone. Politicians all over the world seize moments to prove to people they can be trusted. President Obama’s rise in politics, especially locally, was due in part to his involvement in community programs (he was a community organizer even before he earned his law degree and his wife cited that as one of the reasons she finally agreed to date him).

Even in the Bible, when complaints came to Apostle Paul that some people were preaching the gospel of Jesus with ulterior motives, he had this to say:

“But that doesn’t matter. Whether their motives are false or genuine, the message about Christ is being preached either way, so I rejoice. And I will continue to rejoice.” — Philippians 1:18

This has always been my view whenever some people are accused of using social advocacy campaign as a means to launch political careers. Insofar as they are competent and qualified, how they became known to people that selected them should be secondary. You cannot spend your time arguing Arsenal and Chelsea day and night on social media while some people use their influence to advance the cause of social justice, then make noise when such people are recruited by government or policy makers to contribute to national development.

Don’t hate.

Some Nigerians want fuel subsidy. It will come at a cost

So a few people think government should subsidize the price of petrol. I do not agree but let's assume this is the right thing to do. Shall we play with some figures? Good.

The current price is N145 per litre. Let's assume the government decides that people should pay N110 per litre. That means govt is subsidizing our fuel consumption at N35 per litre.

Now, the general consensus is that Nigerians consume 40 million litres of fuel every day. Let's assume this figure is too high and the actual figure is something like 35 million litres every day.

Let's also assume there are 365 days in a year.

What this means, my people, is that Nigeria will be subsidizing fuel consumption with N447 billion per year. This is assuming that crude oil price or exchange rate doesn't go up. If any of this goes up, the amount of subsidy also goes up.

Where will this money come from?

In the 2016 budget, Nigeria budgeted N268 billion for over 206 roads, N99 billion for power supply infrastructure and N66 billion for housing. That's a total of N433 billion. Are we then saying instead of spending money on roads, power and housing, we should spend money on fuel subsidy (and it may not be enough still).

Last year, the Nigerian federal government spent N19 billion on road in total. This year the government wants to spend N268 billion on roads. This amount is not even enough but at least it's something. That's partly why they did not budget for subsidy in 2016 - they want to spend money on real infrastructure. But it seems Nigerians prefer subsidized fuel instead of good roads and better power supply.

The time has come for us as a people to determine what we really want. We cannot continue to eat our cake and have it.

"Do not be deceived. God cannot be mocked. Whatever you sow, that is what you will reap" - Galatians 6:7

Selah

Making sense of the new petrol price regime in Nigeria

The first thing to know and accept is that the former price of premium motor spirit, or petrol (PMS) at N86.50 makes absolutely no sense within the prevailing crude oil price and exchange rates. The second thing is that what we have now is not deregulation but "price modulation". The third thing is that the government did not really remove subsidy per se – the 2016 budget does not even contain provision for subsidy.

Fine? So we can move on now.

A bit of history

In 2012, when the President Goodluck Jonathan government removed subsidy on PMS and announced a complete deregulation regime, Nigerians protested. I did too. While most of our reasons for rejecting the deregulation were valid (demand for prosecution of subsidy thieves, reduction of massive wastes in government, fight against widespread corruption etc), in retrospect Nigerians were wrong and the government was right – we should have accepted deregulation. However, the money saved by the government against subsidy payment would most likely have been stolen by the government anyway as we now know how corrupt that government was. Nevertheless, deregulation would likely have solved a lot of existing problems in the industry including new investments in refineries and distribution infrastructure. But it is never late to correct a misstep, is it?

Why deregulation?

Under deregulation, the government has almost zero input on the pricing and distribution of petroleum products. Anybody can produce or import petroleum products at whatever costs and sell at whatever prices. Government protects consumers by encouraging competition in the industry which ensures prices cannot be determined by one individual (think of MTN, Airtel, Etisalat and Glo and how competition has forced prices down). Here in the US, that’s what happens. For example, around my house there are three fuel stations within about 400 metres of one another. In fact two of them are right opposite each other. At no time do these fuel stations sell at the same price. The funny thing is that the one I prefer buying fuel at (called Royal Farm) is the one that usually has the most expensive price. I prefer there because their pump appears to dispense fuel faster. They also have a free tyre pumping machine and I get to buy stuff at their super market. Now the church where I worship is about 8 minutes away and there is another Royal Farms station there. The price at this station is always different from the price at the Royal Farms near me. Also, when I first arrived here fuel price was about $2.20 per gallon (1 gallon = 3.785 litres). As crude oil price crashed, fuel price also reduced. In early February when crude oil price was around $32 per barrel, I bought fuel at $1.54 per gallon. Now crude oil price has gone up to around $45 per barrel and fuel price has followed suit - at the weekend I paid $2.15 per gallon. This is how deregulation works.

Now back to Nigeria

So have we deregulated now?

No (and that is why the government announced a price peg – under deregulation the government cannot fix any price). What we have now is price modulation. Why did the government not just deregulate completely and focus its energy on something different? No one knows for sure, but I have two working theories. One, Nigerians hate the word “deregulation”. Labour unions will likely embark on strike and it might even lead to civil unrest. Two, and this is very important, you cannot trust the average Nigerian businessman. As stated earlier, what deregulation typically does is to ensure competition which eventually forces down prices. But Nigerian producers are a different, special breed. Who is to say these people will not collude to maintain high prices? A very good example is cement. Ordinarily, Dangote Cement has achieved high efficiency in production and this should translate into much lower prices than their competitors (which will force these competitors to improve efficiency and therefore lower their own prices too). But what do we have? They sell their cements at basically the same prices. The result is that Dangote Cement’s gross profit margin and net profit margin are the highest of any cement producer anywhere in the world!

Price modulation what?

Price modulation in this sense is official changes in price of PMS due to changes in the variables. For example, if crude oil price increases (or decreases) significantly, there is also an increase (or decrease) in the price of PMS. This is also the case where there is a significant change in other components of fuel price e.g transport cost, storage cost etc. As you can see, this is what should happen in a normal business – you increase your price whenever your cost increases. The fundamental difference here is that it is the government doing this increase or decrease, not the private sector (of course you would expect that the private sector will be involved in some ways). The gist also is that the government is using a more realistic exchange rate to determine the landing cost of fuel since we import our fuel (i.e closer to N320 per dollar instead of the previously used N199/$ which the oil marketers don’t even get). This point is very important as the current scarcity is largely due to lack of forex at the official exchange rate which is what the former price of N86.5 was based on. Another thing the government announced is that there is no longer import restrictions – anyone can import fuel and sell at any price (before now, you needed a licence and an import quota from the NNPC). However, the Nigerian government says it will be doing this price modulation every quarter unless something extraordinary happens to these indices before the end of the quarter. This is where there might be problem. Three months is too long to react to changes in input costs. We also need to look at how India and Kenya, two countries that also use price modulation on petroleum products, do their own.

Where do we go from here?

What price modulation does is to ensure these oil marketers do not take advantage of Nigerians and charge prices there are way beyond their cost. Also, there is still a bit of competition here since oil marketers are allowed to sell their products at any price so long it is not above the peg of N145. So if I am own a fuel station A and the fuel station B beside me is selling at N145, I can decide to sell at say N143 and ensure more cars come to my station to buy fuel, even though it means there might be queue. Of course this other station B will be forced to react and lower his own price too, so far it is not below their own cost. That is how competition works – everyone tries to take the other seller’s customers using price.

All said, I would still have preferred a full deregulation, even with the risk of excess profits that Nigerian producers are wont to charge. You have to have some measure of faith that the market system will eventually self-correct. However, it appears the Nigerian government could not take this risk with these marketers at this delicate time.

Nigerians are probably paying the price for years of successive governments not maintaining our refineries and/or building new ones to cater for our burgeoning population. It is therefore imperative that the government takes immediate steps to privatize our refineries (one of the reasons the late President Yaradua was a faiure) and give approvals for new ones to be built. The Dangote refinery scheduled to be completed in 2018 cannot come any quicker. New ones are needed. There is no reason why Nigeria should not be exporting refined petroleum products.

Until then, we have to live with this. It is painful but unavoidable, unless we want to embark on a journey to Venezuela. God forbid.