Diary of a first time yuppie voter - April 2 2011

From the depths of my flu and cough medicine induced sleep, I reach for the phone as instinctively as you reach for an alarm you know is about to go. It is an international call I forgot I had scheduled. 40 minutes later we are still at it and I see that in a few minutes it will be 8am. I struggle with myself for a split second; should I let this conversation take its course or end it and get ready for the verification exercise? I cut what has become a monologue, bark out a few household instructions and practically dash out of the house without a shower, wearing a dress I wont be concerned with and two under skirts… just incase.

I step out and marvel at the pleasantly cloudy and cool sky over my part of Abuja. If anyone had asked what type of weather I wanted if I was going to spend the entire day at a polling unit, I could not have picked better weather. With a travel mug of coffee in one hand and reading material in the other I stop by the mirror to make a last minute inspection. Sunshades at the ready perched on my red scarf worn Benazir Bhutto style: check. Practical flats to make sure my feet do not come back covered in dust and grime: check. One last thing: I ask the guard to follow me with a straight-backed chair with arm rests – I am determined to obey INEC’s instructions to wait behind (comfortably) until the ballots are counted.

Straight as an arrow, I make my way to the tent where a young man in the Khaki NYSC uniform and a young lady sit behind a table. The table is completely bare i.e. no papers, register, ballots…so I say ‘Hello. I see verification has not started’. I pepper them with questions such as - ‘have they heard from the INEC officials? Have they called anyone?’ ‘Yes – they are on their way’. ‘Any idea when?’ Not a clue. It is not yet 9.30am but there are at least 100 people milling around with some faces I recognize from the registration exercise.

So I sit and shoot the breeze with the people around and we soon become the center for people who want to know what is going on. Some leave their numbers and plead that we call them when verification starts. A few minutes before 10am, I get a blackberry message saying ‘Gombe senatorial elections postponed goje caught wiv ballot papers’. I tell the person off for sharing an old April fool joke and caution against sharing so that people do not believe it and stay away from the polling units. My equilibrium is totally unruffled.

At 11am, I get up to let someone older sit on my chair…while I stretch my legs. Still no sign of the officials but lots of blackberry messages reporting different things, but I am convinced it is all a ploy to deflate the enthusiasm of the voters. Then one of the election observers who drove off earlier comes back and says verification has started in other parts of the FCT and only a few areas have not started yet. The resolve returns to full tank for those around me and we all discuss the strong likelihood that the minute we leave the polling unit, the verifiers will arrive. At about 10.30am I decide to put this theory to test. I dash home to get some food and water and although I am not gone more than 10 minutes, when I arrive the scene has completely changed. There was at least 3 times the number of people I left and of course the NYSCINEC staff had arrived. (INEC representatives dressed in NYSC uniform).

It is utter chaos. At first they try to organize us according to the last 3 digits of the VIN numbers on our cards e.g., 001-549, 550-999 etc. but people refuse to budge from the 8 or more lines which had been formed. Instead there is a lot of yelling and inability to comprehend with people peering at their registration cards to decipher where they should be. Then we get told by the loudest NYSCINEC person that we should line up based on our last names. I explain to someone that this means surname. They are not sure what I mean. I promptly give up and move away from the women’s line for 001-549 to find another line for people whose last names start with O.

Everywhere people are shoving, stepping on my feet and throwing their arms across me to tap on or catch the attention of others, shouting into my ear, my face and I begin to understand why people might not want to come out to vote. Anyone who does not like crowds, who is deeply offended when strange people brush and push against them, or who gets claustrophobic when the only way to ‘get out’ is to press through a throng of people…will be reluctant to come out to vote.

Very quickly, the lines start moving and the verification exercise is taking place efficiently. But at exactly 12.49pm, as we sit and wait for others to finish their verification so we can start voting, I get a message saying ‘April 4 new date. Jega live on NTA, Channels and AIT’. I call to verify, share the news and soon everyone is huddled around those who have radios to listen for themselves.

A few of us agree to stay until the NYSCINEC people start packing up and leaving. There are heated discussions all around about Jega’s explanation about the printing of material. Announcements are made loudly in Hausa and Igbo to explain what has happened and to share the information that voting is set for Monday.

Finally, I call for the guard to come get my chair and walk back home quietly. This was supposed to be the day I cast my first vote ever in my country’s general election. The BB messages that continued to flow all day helped me decide how I would take the news. I had two options. I could take the definition of Jega:/n/je-ga as ‘the act of astutely adhering to the objectives of a laid out process by placing a demand on excellence with a view to achieving an acceptable outcome e.g., Nigeria jegaed Siasia for a football glory’ or I could choose ‘the act of stupidly wasting the time of a lot of people whilst keeping them under hot sun e.g., the groom jegaed his bride for a small Babcock girl.’ I chose the former; Aluta Continua; Victoria Acerta