Writers 
Yesterday, I was standing outside a supermarket when a man approached me.
“Oga, please, help me with your phone. I want to make a very important call.”
I looked at him carefully.
“Your phone is not with you?”
He quickly brought out his own phone.
“My phone is with me, but there is no airtime.”
I looked at his phone, then at him.
“So you want to use my phone because your own phone has no airtime?”
“Yes, sir. Just one quick call. Very important.”
The way he said “very important” made it sound like the president was waiting for his call.
I handed him my phone.
He dialled a number and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello? Good afternoon, sir.”
He paused.
“Please, I need a small favour.”
I didn't pay much attention at first.
Then he continued.
“Sir, I know I promised to pay you back yesterday, but something came up.”
I immediately looked up.
This was no longer just a phone call.
My phone had entered a financial meeting without my permission.
The man continued.
“Sir, please, just give me until Friday. I promise you, I will sort everything out.”
I shifted my weight and stared at him.
The person on the other end must have said something serious because the man's entire voice suddenly changed.
“Sir, please. Don't involve my brother. I beg you.”
At that moment, I became fully interested.
I wasn't trying to listen to his conversation before, but now my phone was practically doing live coverage of a family crisis.
He lowered his voice.
“Sir, I understand. I know I owe you. But please, give me small time.”
He paused again.
“Sir, I'm not running away.”
I almost laughed.
The man had borrowed my phone for one call and had already started defending himself against allegations of financial disappearance.
After another minute, he finally ended the call.
He handed me my phone.
I looked at him.
“Oga, hope everything is okay?”
He sighed deeply.
“Honestly, things are hard these days.”
I nodded sympathetically.
“You're right. Things are not easy.”
He looked at me.
Then he said, “Please, can I borrow ₦5,000 from you?”
I blinked.
“Sorry?”
“Just ₦5,000. I will return it tomorrow.”
I laughed.
“Ah, no o. I only gave you my phone to make a call.”
“I understand.”
He smiled awkwardly.
I put my phone in my pocket and started walking away.
“Oga!”
I turned.
“At least give me ₦1,000.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Okay. What about ₦500?”
“No.”
He looked at me for a few seconds.
“Even ₦200?”
I laughed.
“Oga, please leave me.”
He raised his hands.
“Okay, no problem.”
I thought that was the end of the matter.
I started walking towards the supermarket.
After about ten steps, I heard him talking to another man standing nearby.
“See this life. I just needed somebody to borrow me phone. Now the person is behaving like I asked him to pay my debt.”
I stopped walking.
I slowly turned around.
The man was still explaining to his new audience.
“I didn't even ask him for money at first. I only asked for phone.”
I walked back.
“Oga!”
The moment he saw me, his eyes widened.
He turned around and started walking away.
I followed him.
“Oga, wait!”
He increased his speed.
I increased mine.
Then he started running.
That was when I realised something important.
In Nigeria, you have to be careful about helping people.
Because you can lend somebody your phone for one innocent phone call and somehow, five minutes later, the person has borrowed your airtime, rejected responsibility for his debt, insulted your character and run away with the reputation that you are the stingy one.
