In October 2015, I made the long journey from my home in Ijebu Ode, Ogun State, Nigeria, to Osun, another state in the south-west of the country. Between three and a half and four long hours in different vehicles on bumpy and potholed roads, separated my home from my beloved alma mater, the University of the Redeemer.
Unfortunately, I was unable to achieve what I was looking for there, and not a single member of the staff on duty gave me a compassionate look, and after all was said and done, I started my long journey back home the same day. This would be normal, if it weren’t for the fact that I started the trip late. As late as 5:30 pm I guess.
Between Osun Sate and my house is the ancient city of Ibadan. When traveling from Osun, you need to go through Ibadan before reaching Ogun State, just like you need to go through Ibadan when you go to Osun State from Ijebu Ode, Ogun State. So is the road network.
By the time I reached the normal car park in Ibadan, it was already quite late at night and the last vehicle had moved to Ijebu Ode, leaving me stranded in Ibadan for the night. On the advice of some of the men in the park, I stopped at the edge of the road to take a taxi that would transport me to another motor park far away, amid the puffs of smoke coming from the exhausts of thousands of vehicles moving in all directions. Now, the busy street with thugs, beggars, pedestrians, spiritualists, etc., and a lot of noise was very unfriendly to me (I’m a country type), and the terrain was totally unfamiliar.
I managed to get a taxi for a fair price to take me several miles to the nearest car park. We walked past the police officers, who demanded a fragment from the driver. The driver had no choice but to comply, lest he be tagged with a crime he knew nothing about. All my efforts to explain to the driver that an innocent man has no reason to fear or pay bribes to the police on duty, fell on deaf ears.
The park was even further away than he had imagined. Anyway, I arrived in time to meet a vehicle headed for Ijebu Ode. I suspect it was the last one for the night. I went inside and waited for it to fill up, while choking on the smoke from a cigarette from some guy smoking out there. I had to hold on until the vehicle moved, and even when the vehicle moved, some things in the vehicle that I don’t know made my eyes hurt until I got to Ijebu Ode.
The highlight of the otherwise ordinary trip, however, was the two guys sitting next to me. The smaller one sat in the span of the larger one, so they will only occupy and pay for one seat and cut costs. They couldn’t even pay the full bus fare, and they had to come to an agreement with the bus driver to accept what they paid for, everything they had (so they said).
Both boys looked tired, discouraged, scared, and very hungry. So hungry that the older one asked me for some money to buy dinner for both of us. I took pity on them and assured them that by the time the bus landed, they would be given food.
So I became interested in his story. What were two young men looking for in Ibadan of all places, in the dead of night, with no escort to watch over them? Worse, they were still heading to Lagos that night, about another hour and a half after Ijebu Ode, if they were lucky. Then they told me their pathetic story.
It turned out that they work for a “health” organization that sells healthy drugs and supplements and is affiliated with GNLD. Hmm. GNLD. That interested me. So what were they doing in Ibadan? They had made the long journey from Lagos to Ibadan to sell some of the drugs for their organization. They had stayed there for a day, but they couldn’t sell a single pin. They had exhausted all the funds they had on them and were unable to make the return trip to Lagos. They told me with regret that their gamble to sell the produce for a profit to eat and pay for their own transportation back to their office had failed.
Ibadan is the largest city in West Africa with a population teeming with people on its always busy roads. How surprised these guys were that they had not sold a single drug. I was surprised too, but found myself believing their story after asking a few other questions and they produced consistent answers that were consistent and not contradictory.
As a microbiologist, I became even more interested when it came to medicines. I asked to see the drugs and they produced two samples which I carefully examined. One looked like an original GNLD product and I was impressed. The other one, however, had the GNLD logo and some other related words, but I noted that the label was not the original GNLD label, because its label was written in a combination of Yoruba and English, and the quality of the label revealed that printing was done. in some backyard printing room.
I carefully looked at the label, absorbing all the information I could. I don’t remember all the diseases the drug fights against, but it’s a pretty long list. This surprised me a lot. Never in my studies and practice as a microbiologist have I heard of such a curative drug.
Diabetes, virus infections, stack, cleansing, ‘opa eyin’ (a local language for spinal cord, an indication that it lowers blood sugar – still points to high blood sugar) and a long list of other conditions in part English, part -Yoruba language was described in the low quality label. I knew something was up.
“Why was the label changed?” I asked.
They explained to me that it was necessary to change the original GNLD label so that local illiterates would better understand what was written, when it was presented in a language with which they were more familiar. That got me.
At that time, I was interested in any medicine that would lower blood sugar and reduce weight, so I could take it to my mother, so I quickly bought it for her. However, I was still restless inside of me.
“Where is the NAFDAC (National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control) registration number?” I saw it written in bold on the body. The medicine was a greenish-looking aqueous solution, and I was told the prescribed dose was one or two capfuls morning and night.
“It works great. I use it myself. I use it for God!” The largest of them assured me. He was plump and dark-skinned and talked most of the time. In the meantime, we were still in the vehicle, on the way to Ijebu Ode.
Have you ever had that feeling that something is not right? I was curious. I saw the NAFDAC number suspiciously. Well, I concluded, if it is a genuine drug, it must have been registered with NAFDAC, so I must check the NAFDAC registration number online.
I turned on my tablet which had a very low battery. Even if it was the last thing he could do with the battery, he was determined to find out if the drug was genuine. I googled the NAFDAC registration number and waited for the response. If the drug was actually registered, the result should have been output, showing the name of the drug and the number, as a sign that it was properly registered.
To my utter amazement, I realized that the “drug” these guys were trying to sell me was nothing more than laundry soap, repackaged as a drug and being sold to gullible people. On the NAFDAC website, I saw something like “Cosmetics and Detergents Category”. The soap itself was labeled by NAFDAC as a detergent.
“This is laundry soap!” I inquired, surprised.
“It’s a drug,” he defended himself.
“It’s laundry soap, look!” We saw the original cover of the drug, with the name written above the drug in the soap opera section. The boys couldn’t believe me.
I opened the official NAFDAC website and searched for the same substance, using the registration number on the label. It was confirmed to be liquid laundry soap.
The guys who were selling drugs told me that they were just retailers, and they themselves believed that they were selling drugs and health supplements. The chubby one of them reaffirmed that he himself had been using it at home. I entered into a conversation with him to find out what got him into such a dirty business, and he told me part of his life story. I won’t bother reporting that here. I made him promise that he would never work with his current boss.
He gave me his phone number, but unfortunately I lost it. I would have loved to send him to a rehab and reskilling home, specifically Habitation of Hope, run by the Redeemed Christian Church of God. There, you will learn valuable life skills to start a legitimate business and have a new lease on life.
I would also have loved if the police could track down the company in Lagos and throw those who control it behind bars for posing a great danger to human lives. When we landed, I made good on my promise to give them enough funds so that they could both eat that night.
Anyway, that night, that one search alone saved me from drinking laundry soap, thinking it was a cleaning drug. I learned that night never to buy medicine without a prescription.
This is a lesson for people who buy drugs on the roadside or from unverified sources. You may be drinking soap (or worse!).