The story: Kingsley, the opara, first-born son, struggles to provide for his beloved family. Their circumstances took a turn for the worse when his ailing father’s income began to dwindle and health failures saw him in hospital (conditions here may beggar belief but are reflective of the conditions that some endure in Nigeria). Their family’s fundamental beliefs have always been education, education, education (Nigerian’s love nothing more than a minimum of 9 letters after one’s name, you might as well go and play in traffic if you have a B.Sc. or drink a vat of rentokill if you have a B.A.). So dear Kingsley, owner of a brilliant Chemical Engineer mind (has to be medicine, law or engineering – nothing else will do!) but with no connections in the corrupt Nigerian job market is at a loss.
Inability to pay for their father’s medical bills leads Kingsley into his notorious uncle, Boniface aka Cash Daddy’s snare. Cash Daddy is a CHARACTER. A silver-tongued rogue cum mastermind, a tyrant who barks out orders whilst taking a crap, possessor of astounding wisdom, incredible charm and unabashed naked exhibitionism. As Kingsley puts it, “He could probably even talk a spider into weaving silk socks for him.”
As Kingsley falls grudgingly under his Cash Daddy’s juju (upgrading his wardrobe in the process), he discovers his own innate flair for the art of deceit and his moral compass begins to rust. He plunges deeper into the intricate world of the Nigerian e-mail scam. The detailed exposition of the unbelievable methods used to string along Western suckers is fascinating and HILARIOUS. Honestly, who would take seriously, an email from “Wazobia” or “Osondi Owendi”? Pure class.
As the scams increase in incredulity and audacity, the novel begins to accomplish something more than simply poking fun at the lust and rapacity that make a small but lucrative fraction of Westerners susceptible to such scams.
The characters don’t see their actions as immoral or wrong, such entrepreneurial endeavours are justified, afterall the same Westerners pillaged their land in innumerable ways. Also, these embezzled currencies are put to good use; what with funding orphanages, building schools and ensuring v-jay-jay utlisers are give their money’s worth.
Kingsley’s mother’s pious nagging and the unfortunate poisoning of Cash Daddy by his competitors sees Kingley changing his perspective and career choice. Taking the late Cash Daddy’s advice, he sets up his own telecommunications enterprise and Bob’s your uncle and Fanny’s your aunt.
Rewa’s take on things: This is easily one of my most memorable reads of the year. Where do I begin – it was hilarious, uncomplicated, enjoyable, well-written, full of Naija colloquialisms and the list goes on and on. And on. Its a like reading a Nollywood film if you can imagine such, while some things appear utterly unbelievable, this is Nigeria my friend and such occurences are commonplace!!!!
Maybe I’m biased but the local champion in me could so easily visualise the akara-seller, hear the sounds of the argumentative molue conductors and feel the conditioned air at Chocolat Royal.
The characters were incredible – quintessential Nigerians. Boniface aka Cash Daddy (imagine a Rick Ross lookalike but probably fatter and uglier) was the icing on the cake. He was the epitome of a avaricious, entrepreneurial, benevolent Nigerian.
Kingsley (What a fantastic choice of name – it doesn’t get more Igbo than that!) held his own as the morally upright nephew with the terrible dress sense. That is, a dress sense that doesn’t involve “yellow crocodile skin shoes with purple, red, blue stripes across the front”. The monikers that Nwaubani doles out to her characters are just pure class; Cash Daddy, Protocol Officer, World Bank and Pound Sterling – the-only currency-with-a-surname (Oh Yeah!!!). The source of Cash Daddy’s mass wealth, the fraudulent emails which so many of us dismiss by hitting the delete button are also wonderfully detailed in the novel. They are full of everyday naija spiel; the flattery, the charm, the deceit and even the subliminal insults.
It was unfortunate that Cash Daddy met his demise in the end. Whilst he was a blatantly corrupt manners with no sense of etiquette whatsoever, he always ensured that his people were always well taken care of. He would have probably made a better governor than majority of the goons currently in power.
To be honest, I wasn’t reading this novel to highlight points for discussion around the corruption of a blessed-but-don’t-know-it Nation, the plight the developing world suffered in the hands of the West or any of that deep and intelligent stuff. I read this for the sheer entertainment and reminiscence of Nigeria that I wasn’t able to derive from the likes of Secret Lives Of Baba Segi’s Wives.
Nwaubani did an excellent job with her first novel and I thoroughly look forward to her next offering. You go girl *flexes neck and clicks finger in diva style*!
Read & Reviewed 