I'm just faking it...

I have to wear “rags” to the office every week so no one will give me a second look. I live in a luxury flat on the Island, but my phoney residential address is downtown Mushin. So much for my double life, I also drive a  battered Toyota to work but I have an impressive garage with four luxury cars back home. My local bank account is in the red, but no one would ever believe how much I have stashed away in a few offshore accounts. I own some landed properties in Lagos, Abuja and Port Harcourt but I applied to get a housing loan from my employer. I must not appear to live beyond my means which is really what I do outside the office.  I am a mid class executive with a financial investment firm on Broad Street. In my position as a portfolio manager, I have access to millions in client funds. My job is to reinvest such liquidity in other viable business concerns that will yield a quick and handsome profit for the investors. However, I have not been so prudent with any of the client funds under my care. I use their investment to take care of my own interest and try to cook the books as much as possible. I have to keep up with the big boys some of whom are my co-tenants. These people have private yachts and drink the finest wines and I want to live the good life just like they do. I like to think that I’m just borrowing the funds from my company and my intention is to repay whatever I have taken when I eventually set up my own company. I find it very easy to cover my step and when a client needs their money, I just give them what belongs to other people. Its a swindling cycle where I have to pull the wool over the eyes of my employers and clients.

My co-tenants are expatriates and business executives who can afford to pay the exorbitant rent for a luxury apartment. They don’t have any reason to doubt my phoney lifestyle, but I try to be very careful and unsocial as much as I can be. I leave home very early and return under the cover of the night. I have a reserve room in a hotel close to my office where I do a daily transformation. In the morning, I drive an exotic car into the hotel, change clothes and drive out to the office in a jalopy.  I do this ritual everyday, except on weekends when I have to unwind and have a no hold-barred  time of my life. I still take care to avoid being seen by senior colleagues and some of my clients who frequent the same nightclubs and cinemas that I visit. Every Friday, I jet out of town so I don’t have to look over my shoulders to see who’s watching. At work, I am a docile employee who occasionally shows some flash of brilliance. That attitude and the overrated perks of my senior executives meant that I could operate undetected for some time. However, our internal auditors began sniffing around a couple of weeks back. Everyone was supposed to be on their toes, but I seem to be the only one he is after. He gives me a piercing look each time we run into each other; in the hallway or in the boardroom. A full scale internal audit of our books was in the offing, and I knew I would be game if it ever happened. The audit was not removed from the global economic meltdown, and the bubble was ready to burst in my face.

When one of the luxury flats in my block became vacant, I was tempted to take it up. It would make sense if I took it and put it up for rent.  The former expatriate occupant was returning to his home country. As usual with the availability of such vacancy, expectations were high among us tenants as to who would move into the place. Forget that all tenants had to pay rents in US dollars, we were humans too; with an eye for our neighbours. There was always the opportunity for business and social networking. I have used a few contacts in the place to bring in investors for my firm. I was still contemplating my next move on how to weather the storm of the looming audit in my office when something  terrifying happened. I almost ran into the internal auditor in my luxury apartment. Ordinarily, it shouldn’t have been an issue, but I was still in my night dress when the Internal Auditor came on an inspection tour of the vacant flat. He was in company of some other senior executive in the firm. I had been on the grounds to pick up a file from my car when I saw them. I literarily froze beside my car for a few hours. Luckily, they left without seeing me. My hide-and-seek game would be seriously compromised if I was found out so easily. But what was he up to inspecting a vacant luxury flat in my block. If the internal Auditor is going to be my next-door neighbour, then I’d be in for serious trouble.... [to be continued]

419 Part 1

My phone began to ring as soon as I woke up that morning. It was an unknown caller and curiosity got the better part of me as I really don’t answer calls having unknown numbers. When I picked the call, the male voice on the other end of the line wanted me to guess who he was. When I answered in the negative, he insisted on his guessing game only offering a clue that he was our former co-tenant who had travelled abroad some years back. After a few seconds of juggling my brain, I was able to associate the familiar voice with a face. The caller sounded like Edwin Egha, one of our former co-tenants who had migrated to the United Kingdom a few years ago. The last time I heard from him, he said he was on a working visit to Lagos and promised to visit Abuja before he returned to his base in London. He didn’t turn up on that occasion and I was hearing from him again after almost two years. Edwin was a young school leaver at the time he moved into one of the rooms where I also lived in a tenement building in Kubwa. We were both single at the time and used to quaff beer and pepper soup together after my hard day’s job selling used computer hardware in Wuse Market. Edwin on the other operated an internet café before his business took a downturn. His shop was demolished by the Federal Capital Development Authority when they found it was built in one of the green areas in the city centre.  Even then, Edwin lived comfortably than the rest of us which made me suspect that he only used the internet café as a front for some other secret business he was involved in. He was the only tenant in the large tenement who owned a car and could afford to fuel his big generator everyday. He never liked to discuss his business and I didn’t mind, besides he was a nice and generous man who could be relied on when I needed financial help. The other tenants were wary of him and I had overheard one of them say Edwin was a criminal. That was years back and the police never came looking for him once until he travelled abroad. 

 After exchanging a few spirited pleasantries over the phone, he began to unfold the heart of his call to me. Edwin wanted me to get in touch with one Patrick Obi, his friend who was visiting Nigeria from London that week. According to Edwin there was a new business opportunity in the UK that if pursued could earn us millions of dollars. Edwin said he had just got advance knowledge that the US and UK governments were in the process of reviewing their Alien resident policy. As such every foreigner would need to reapply using an International Alien Immigration Permit Form failing which they would be repatriated.  Edwin said the only way to meet the excess in the demand that was bound to come was to get a bulk of it from a certain dealer in Nigeria. For the avoidance of doubt, a copy of the document could be sold for as much as N120,000 and multiply that figure by over two million Nigerians in both countries, and we would be in on a lot of profit. He said he had sent some money through Patrick Obi and he wanted me to be in on the show. He assured me that it was a genuine prospect that he just happened to have gotten wind of before it became public knowledge. Edwin had never told me anything while he was still in the country that turned out to be false. As a matter of fact, my first big break in business came through information he leaked to me. It was through his grapevines that I got a contract to supply 5000 computer sets to various government ministries in Abuja when the real big players were not looking. I was able to build a 2 bedroom flat in Dutse Alhaji area of Abuja and wed my wife with proceeds from that job. Here was Edwin again, and I couldn’t fault the veracity of his leads. I thanked him profusely and returned to the living room to break the news to my wife.

At this time, my business had taken a nosedive and I was so indebted to my suppliers and would have sold my property long ago but for my wife’s. Edwin’s new business presentation might change all of that. I persuaded my wife we had t buy into this deal like it was the bullish stock market. She worked with Federal Inland Revenue Service here in Abuja and she has been the shouldering all my responsibilities for some time now. Our life was set to change if we could raise enough cash to do this business and she was my only hope except she agreed that I sell the house. I couldn’t wait to put a call through to the Patrick Obi. We made the call to Patrick Obi through the number provided by Edwin. He confirmed that he was indeed in Abuja lodged in a hotel in Asokoro. I decided to visit him the next day in his hotel room to discuss how I could be a part of the business they were offering. He said he had instructions from Edwin to offer me 1000 copies of the International Alien Immigration Permit Form at the cost of N6500 each. If they resold my share in the US and UK at N120,000 each, 80% of the profit would be given to me. I quickly did the sum in my head and I was looking at a cool N96 million having invested N6.5 million only. I was going to do anything to grab this opportunity!  

Stranded in Abuja I

In the past four years since graduation, I have been shuttling back and forth the major cities in the country: Port Harcourt, Enugu, Yola and lately Lagos in search of a white collar job. Everywhere I turn, the doors just seem to slam in my face without remorse. I have submitted several applications in all of these places to banks, oil and gas firms, construction companies, media houses without landing a job. The bank where I had temped as a security guard during my days in the university had promised to employ me once I completed the National Service. To be sure, my uncle was an executive director in the bank and was privy to this arrangement. However, in a sad twist of fate he was compulsorily retired during the drastic reforms that took place in the financial sector recently. After his unceremonious exit, nobody in the bank wanted to see me and my calls were not returned anymore. Those who really felt sympathy for me confessed that their hands were tied as they were not even sure of their own positions, not to talk of lending a helping hand. Leaving Port Harcourt for Lagos was even worse because I didn’t know any one who could help me get a job there and getting a basic accommodation was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I didn’t know what direction to go next until a friend with whom I shared my predicament suggested I tried my failing luck up north. She had been in Abuja for a while and said she would be on hand to receive me if and when I decided to come. Having nothing to loose and never one to shy away from a challenge, especially one with good prospects, I decided I was heading for Abuja. I got a relative to lend me some cash for transportation and off I went.  

Coming to Abuja was a wish I’ve always had as I looked forward to a city that was clean and bustling with social life around the clock; business during the day and an active night life. I also looked forward to meeting high profile politicians as well as upwardly mobile young people with whom I could network. I had high hopes that I would finally get a break from many fruitless years of searching for a job. So when our bus arrived at the Utako motor park just before dusk, I could breathe a sigh of relief that another chapter has just opened in my life. Seeing so many functional street lightings and decent police patrol vans, my immediate impression of Abuja was one of a city that was efficient and working. According to our discussion over the phone, my friend had arranged for a place where I could stay for up to six months while I searched for a job. The understanding was that within that period of time, I should have saved enough money to get my own accommodation. When she arrived at the motor park and after exchanging some warm slapstick, she got out her phone to call the guy with whom I was going to put up. Unfortunately, the young man said he was out of town that weekend and I would have to hang around until he returned. Not bad, I said to my friend but I was becoming apprehensive. My friend didn’t have a house of her own anymore since she was forcefully evicted from her place in the exclusive Maitama District. According to her story, she had been a victim of a something akin to a foreclosure. Her landlord had defaulted on the payment of a loan and the creditors had stepped in to seize the property and out she went. She had to move her belongings and other personal effects to Lugbe, a satellite town on the Abuja-Lokoja road where one of her family friends resided. My friend is a singer and an entertainer, and so spends most of her time in one studio after another. She knew a few people in the city who could help us with a place to lay my head that night and so made another call while I prayed silently for a good response. I have never had to sleep out in the open all my life, but here was destitution staring me in the face. While we waited, we strolled around the motor park and found a tea vendor popularly known as mai-shai  who also made noodles and fried egg. My friend pressured me to eat something, but food was not on my mind. Soon enough, an old Honda car pulled up to where we stood on the street-lighted Jabi road. I didn’t want to ask any questions of my friend either as a way to reveal my fears or to provoke her into changing her mind. She was all my hope in this city where her supposedly best-laid plan had begun to come apart so early on. I expected something better than this ad-hoc arrangement but decided to play along. After the introductions by my friend, she spoke to the man in her local dialect but I was sure the conversation was how he could be of help to me that night. After a few hints of hesitation, my friend succeeded in persuading him to lend a hand. He reluctantly agreed and asked us to get into the car before speeding off in the direction of Galadinmawa, a slum settlement within the FCT where the residents live daily in fear of demolition. The young man didn’t live in Galadinmawa, but said his younger siblings would accommodate me for just one night and nothing more. As if he knew what lay ahead of me in the coming days, he began to tell me his own story of how he started out without a roof over his head as a motor parts scavenger in the Mechanic Village area of Apo District. The Galadinmawa accommodation was modest with electricity and water, but I couldn’t sleep that night for obvious reasons!

How to Catch a Wave in the Property Market

There is a common analogy to be drawn between the business of property investment and the sport of surfing. Surfing is the art of riding the waves that an ocean churns up and as such, surfers don’t create waves, but just ride it. For the surfer, when the waves aren’t there, you just don’t surf that day. On the other hand, when surfers see a good wave, they make the most of it.

Likewise, the real estate market turns up certain trends and opportunities that a prospective investor would do well to latch on to (catching a wave) and enjoy the ride for as long as possible. Most importantly, an investor must know how to choose the right portfolio that matches budget as well as set an exit strategy so he doesn’t run into debts.

Basically, there are four segments in the Nigerian real estate market, each with its own unique investment “waves.” An investor may decide to focus in any of commercial, residential, industrial or tourist segments of the property market. The potential Return on Investment in any of these segments is huge, but focusing on commercial or residential properties are the most common trends among private investors in cities like Abuja and Lagos. The investor doesn’t want to be the proverbial “Jack of all trade, and master of none”

Build and Sell

Regardless of the investor’s equity, opportunities already exist waiting to be leveraged  in the “Build and Sell” segment to match any kind of budget. Usually, an investor with say an initial equity of say N7 million may approach a real estate developer in Lugbe, for instance, to get an allocation of 600sqm at the cost of N1.5 million. With less than N5 million, the investor can build a 3-bedroom detached bungalow under 3 months barring any other contingencies in the market. On the average, a 3 bedroom flat in Lugbe currently sells for N16 million and rents for N750,000 per annum. In another six months, the new property would have been snapped up and the investor would be thinking of investing the profit from that first deal in another “Build and Sell’ development.

Usually, the private investor will be given specifications on design, fencing, roofing, colour, finishing where applicable but the responsibility to deliver quality structures that will quickly generate buyer’s interest remain with him. The mutual benefit to the real estate developer and the private investor is mutual, but more interesting is the fact that the latter leverages on the former’s business. The private investor may not need to worry about providing such infrastructures as road network, centralized water, security, electricity and other management services already being provided by the principal developers. Some developers have clauses in the contract which allows an investor to sell at a profitable bargain price if the property remains in the market for over a year.

However, the “Build and Sell” model can be a risky investment because it comes down to the cost of building and how fast the property will sell. Without a good understanding of location and management of cash flow, the private investor might ride into a storm of debt and eventually unprofitable forced-sale. The time of Return on Investment can be fast-tracked if an investor chooses an occupied area rather than an upcoming area no matter how cheap the latter could be. An investor can be hit by a negative cash flow in “Build and Sell” without a proper investment plan that takes into consideration the equity build-up and capital appreciation on the property. Trouble usually begins when an investor has only a mind for quick yield on invested equity.  Engaging in a real estate model like “Build and Sell” for which the projected cash flow are base on capital appreciation (prices going up) rather than other sources is considered speculation rather than investment.  To avoid this, the standard practice is to have a long term plan not limited to outright sale. Long leases and rents are holding strategies when outright sale does not look profitable, but the market for residential apartments in Abuja has been experiencing an upward movement in the past five years.   

Other investment strategies to employ in working the “Build and Sell” model is to finance the building of the house using some sort of financial instrument such as a mortgage loan collateralized by the land on which it would be built. It is not advisable for a new investor to finance the model using their own capital. Where obtaining mortgage or other loan is not feasible, a Joint Venture arrangement where an estate developer provides the land with the option of assisted sales can be negotiated. This arrangement mitigates the risk of negative cash flow, economic downturn and market decline. The “Build and Sell” option is a profitable real estate “wave” to ride all the way to the bank, if it is properly handled.  

A Thousand Pounds’ Bait

I hadn’t any idea what surprises the day might have in store for me. The rains were here again and it was a clear morning sky outside. Lying on my back, a copy of Pastor Adeboye’s Open Heaven lay open across my bare chest. The day’s devotional had one clear message to wit: in the multitude of counsel, there is safety. I laid half asleep in part meditation waiting for a call to the family altar. It was the first day of work after a lengthy Easter and Election holiday, but no one in the house seemed to be any hurry to be roused. Even then, we didn’t begin to do any chores until the morning devotions were done. The creaky noise of the door to my uncle’s bedroom was the summons that all were to gather in the living room. I helped the three boys out of bed with great disaffection on their parts. Sleeping into the early mornings was a dividend of their holiday. They stayed up late playing video games and only had to catch up on sleep on their knees during the family devotion.

My phone began to vibrate and ring as soon as I knelt down to pray. It was an unknown caller and curiosity got the better part of me. When I picked the call, the male voice on the other end of the line wanted me to guess who he was. When I answered in the negative, the caller insisted on his guessing game only offering a clue that he was a friend in London. After a few seconds of brain juggle, I place the voice with a face. It was Edwin Egha, a former employee of my father. He did the school runs for my brother and I when our father was too busy back in the days. Edwin had migrated to the United Kingdom a few years ago. The last time I heard from him, he was on a working visit to Lagos while I was in faraway Yola on National Service. After exchanging a few spirited pleasantries over the phone, he began to unfold the heart of his call. Edwin wanted me to get in touch with one Patrick Obi, his friend who was visiting Nigeria from London. According to him, he had sent me a Nokia Phone, a Wrist Watch and a sum of money through the emissary. It was good news to my ears. I thanked him profusely and returned to the living room to join the devotee of family members; my mind on the gift.

I couldn’t wait to put a call through to the emissary. I asked my uncle to give me a little handout for the purpose of making calls. Patrick Obi said he was in town to attend a funeral in Adavi, Kogi State which is not too far from my location in Abuja. According to him, he would be in the capital city later in that day en route to the UK. There was something else. He was hard pressed for time and he had to procure a document on behalf of Edwin, he shared with me. He therfore wanted me to get authorization from Edwin so he could release the sum of £1000 to me, part of which would cover the expenses for procuring a certain International Alien Immigration Permit Form. The said document, according to him would cost exactly £500 when converted in the local currency; and the balance was the cash gift Edwin sent to me. Edwin confirmed the story and said he would be very grateful if I could be of help, as his continued stay abroad depended on it. I was supposed to liaise with one Benjamin Lucas based in Kaduna whose firm; Royal Company Nigeria Limited traded the document. On request, Mr. Lucas confirmed he could send same by courier in two hours’ time if he got the fee. He made it clear to me that he had just two of the documents left, and one of it had already been booked by another “desperate” customer. Mr. Obi suggested I raised the money from my end as I would be fully reimbursed. All would be fine as soon as we meet later that day, he assured. Edwin also concurred to this arrangement. I knew it would be difficult raising the sum of £500 as everyone was just coming out of a lengthy work-free holiday and I made my thoughts known to both of them. However, time was of the essence and I had to do something.

I decided to raise the issue first with my uncle. When I confirmed that I knew Edwin well, he put a call through to an Immigration officer whom he said could be of help. The officer’s reply said the Alien Immigration Form only applied to foreigners who wanted to work in Nigeria. When my uncle relayed this piece of information to Edwin, he suddenly became very defensive. He said he didn’t want his information to be leaked to the local Immigration officers as he only needed the document for the purpose of shipping goods down to Nigeria. My suspicions were on high alert as Edwin reacted further like a lion when it is cornered. This was the hallmark of scams: the victim must never share the “secret” with any unwilling party. I made Edwin realize there was little I could do to “help” if he wouldn’t accept the alternative we were offering.

I wasn’t surprised by the phony emissary’s response when I called him later that day. He sounded depressed and said he was proceeding to Lagos to catch another flight since I couldn’t procure the document. The game was up and I didn’t bother asking about the other gifts and the One Thousand Pounds bait!

Why I want to become a Taxi Driver

OK. Pretty simple. I want to raise enough money to publish my book. Amy Winehouse's father was a taxi driver, mind you!