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| Photo Credit: Wikipedia |
Dilapidated and washed out buildings adorned the roads lined with dirt like confetti on an aisle. Tri-cycle operators jostled for space with car owners who were maneuvering through the roads that were fast wearing out from an apparent lack of maintenance. The market we were driving past had spilled onto the road as traders hawked their wares on makeshift sheds and tables that they placed by the side of the roads hindering the free flow of traffic.
As we progressed, I stared in wonder, all the while thinking how this town that seemed to be deteriorating by the day no longer felt like home to me. The air of gloominess was palpable and seemed to reflect through the lines of worry etched on the faces of residents who seemed to have nothing but complaints when they spoke.
“Things tough o” had become like a mantra on the tongue of most people and I had to make a note about protecting my mental space by building walls of faith to keep out pessimism. Reality however made it seem like a Herculean task.
Is it the aftermath of the lockdown induced by the COVID-19 pandemic? Is it the sequel to the much touted recession declared by the Federal Government? Is it the effect of years of neglect and ineptitude on the part of local leaders?
I sought answers but was jolted back to reality by the loud voices of two commuters who were now quarreling on the road. Apparently one vehicle had hit another, and as the owners stood assessing the damage caused by the impact of the collusion, curse words spoken in pidgin rented the air. Their vehicles had blocked the roads and I looked on in amazement, bewildered by the fact that they didn’t even bother to pull over to the side of the road in order to pay proper attention to their fight, and also gave no thought to other road users who were now stuck because the road had been blocked by the accidented vehicles.
“It is a Nigerian thing”, I thought to myself and as I watched them yell at each other, I wanted to plead with them to stop because the accident only provided an outlet to vent and transfer aggression resulting from pent up frustration, and that recent national events would make any sane person stressed enough to snap at the slightest provocation. I wanted to tell them that it wasn’t their fault that roads were not constructed with growth and exponential population increase in mind and that expansion of the roads would have made commuting easy.
I wanted to tell them that the traders who had encroached into the roads with their goods were also part of the problem but I reminded myself that an effective Local Government and State Ministry of Environment would have put the traders in check. I also wanted to tell them that mentally sound adults do not resort to insults and exchange of blows in public when confronted with challenges when I heard a fellow onlooker scream “Warri nor dey carry last!”
His excitement would have been noticeable even by a visually impaired person and as I shifted my gaze to him, I wondered if he knew that Warri deserved better than had been meted to it. I wondered if he knew that the state of neglect would take years to correct, years that could have been spent focusing on sustaining development and innovation. I wondered if he knew that he was a victim of a retinue of leaders that could have invested in education, healthcare and improved infrastructure like the overburdened road. I wondered if he would recognize better if it stared him in the face or if the deprivation that the city suffered had eroded the part of his mind built for that purpose. I wondered if somewhere in his heart he knew the truth but had bought into the lie “Warri nor dey carry last!” that had become a consolation for the mediocrity that pervaded the state of affairs in a town once touted as Nigeria’s ‘Oil city’. I wondered if he knew that Warri in its current state would not even hold a candle to the shadow of its former self.
As I rummaged my mind for the right words to say, I noticed that the fighting duo had stopped and that vehicular movement had begun again but before I could heave a sigh of relief, I sighted another long line of vehicles ahead, another traffic had built up. It was evident that we would spend at least 30 minutes before we advanced from that spot.
I scanned the environment and saw that there was no way out of the traffic, then I heaved my sigh but it was not one borne out of relief but pain for a town whose decline would be uninhibited if there is no intervention, a town that houses Nigeria’s second refinery but had now reportedly become a hub for a high number of internet fraudsters, majority of whom are in their teens and twenties.
I heaved my sigh for the town that was once amongst the cream of the crop of towns in the Niger-Delta but had now been set back by incessant communal clashes and poor leadership, a town whose residents seem to have lost the fight in them, but though its glory may seem to have diminished, Warri still holds hope of rising and its story rewritten.
P.S: I have enjoyed local delicacies like banga soup, owho soup, starch, kworka (corn moi moi), banga rice, tapioca and many others.
