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And we spoke.
Lowly me.
And him, the scion of a nouveau riche family in Nigeria.
“I was supposed to hit Naija yesterday but had to postpone it until next week.”
“Why?”
“I forgot to take my anti-malaria treatment and popsie insisted I take it before I come.”
“Really? Me, I just buy Fansidar when I get in, take it and I am good to go.”
“I told my dad I could take a prophylactic when I get in but he forbade me. He says nearly all of them are fake.”
“Haba, how can he say that?”
“You know he is into pharmaceuticals. He imports them.”
“Does he import anti-malarials?”
“Yes.”
“Then, he can give you one of the ones he brings in then.”
“Come on. I am his child.”
“That’s the more reason why he should give you the ones he brings in instead of you having to take the treatment here for seven days before you leave, all the while you are there and then 7 days after you return. It’s too much headache.”
“You won’t understand.”
“Help me understand.”
“Jude, biko, let’s talk about something else.”
Written by Jude Idada
The sad reality of what goes on in the Pharmaceutical sector