Who is Anisa Haque?

Chapter 3

My name is Anisa Haque and I'm a private investigator. Yes, an actual Private investigator.  I know, it's hard to believe right?

It's okay. Most people (including my parents!) don't believe me when I tell them what I do. I mean, how often do you bump into a private investigator in Abuja?

Probably Never. You're more likely to meet a money doubler or a miraculous all-disease-healer than a PI.

That's because people in Abuja believe private investigators, like therapists, postmen and 24-hour electricity, are solely confined to their fictional books and TV screens.

They don't believe they exist among them. Which is ironic considering Abuja is one of the most scandalous cities in the world (second only to Lagos, in my opinion). 

It was only just a matter of time before PIs started popping up to dig up or clean up  messes created by the rich and pompous residents of Abuja.

In fact, unbeknownst to the average Abuja resident, PIs are so hot right now. What with elections around the corner.

Everyone is looking to hire a monkey to go snooping around the opposition's dirty laundry so they can knock them out of the running before they even get to the polls.

But I've steered clear of political cases. Nope, they're not for me. I have a very strict criteria for picking my clients and I'm much too chicken to take any job that might put my life at risk. Dying is certainly not in my 5 year plan. I've stuck with doing some corporate and domestic cases; cheating husbands, missing people, thieving employees, those sorts of things and even then, I reject lots of them for personal reasons.

Like missing persons cases can get dangerous when there are ransoms involved. I usually refer them to a PI friend who used to be a police officer, he's great with abductions.

And some cheating spouse clients are actually no more than an overly jealous person looking for a way to trail their partner so they can control every aspect of the partners life. I not only reject these jealous people, I also recommend a therapist so they can sort out their possessive issues.

But for the few clients that I do accept, I commit to them 100% and even though not all cases get solved (I have an 85% success rate), I always make sure I leave them better off than when I met them.

I'm sure you're wondering how I got to be a PI? Well join the crew because I also don't know exactly *how * or *when* I became one. But somehow, a series of events happening over two months led me into becoming a PI. As Nigerians would say, it was the grace of God.

It all started with a trip to China. My mother is one of *those* business women that travel to China to buy containers  full of whatever she *feels* is in demand. Usually glassware, silverware and all sorts of domestic items I had no interest in.

My father had loaned me some money to serve as capital to start up a business.

'Buy anything you want, my dear,' he had said to me. 'Clothes, jewelry, electronics. Whatever you need to get you started. I hate seeing you at home like this.'

As a poor, unemployed biochemist that was still sponging off my retired parents four years after graduation, I desperately accepted his kind gesture, hoping it would change my life.

Before then I had occupied most of my time helping my mum track her sales and inventory. Which is just a glamorous way of saying I write down who took what (usually an aunty taking a Ghana must go full of items) and when they said they were going to pay (the end of month, which really meant the end of next year) and when/if they do pay, writing a receipt and stashing the money away in mums bank account so she doesn't spend it.

It wasn't a real job but it kept me busy enough to not miss Ibrahim when he wasn't around and free enough to see him whenever he was in town. I arranged all her finances for her (complete with spreadsheets,  pie charts, histograms, everything!).

I even did sales projections where I spent hours on Microsoft Excel fine tuning formulas and calculating fixed costs, consumable costs, shipping costs, profit margins. I basically gave her a layman's equivalent of professional accountancy services and what did I get in return?

Nothing.

According to my mum, it was preposterous of me to even demand any sort of remuneration for my services.

'Who paid for your school fees?' She'd snap. 'Who fuels your car? Who loads your phone? Who pays for your internet?  Whose house are you living in?'

When I give her a smart ass answer like 'Daddy paid, not you!' She'd pull out the big guns..

'Who carried you for 9 months?'

I'm always tempted to remind her that she only carried me for 7ish months and for 4 of those months I was lighter than a tennis ball. But what was the point? Bottom line is I still wasn't getting paid and it sucked.

So off we went with Mummy. First to Shanghai for a little R & R and pampering then we got down to business in Guangzhou where we spent 12 hours a day walking for miles in the biggest markets I have ever seen in my life.

Somewhere in the home electronics market, a sci fi looking shop stood out from among the others. It was dark, hidden and very subtle compared to all the other stores that had neon signs and LED lights flashing in all directions.  It was small compared to the rest, but still ginormous by my standards.  It was a CCTV shop and they sold all sorts of security cameras.

Given that the whole world was abuzz with that scandalous Nanny camera video, I figured instead of buying basic commodities that everyone sells, it'll be a great idea to invest in some CCTV systems. So I took a gamble and blew my entire capital on them, much to my mum's dismay.

So at a time when nearly all the girls my age in Abuja were running fashion design and cupcake businesses, I chose to run a security camera business.

I had no experience with selling electronics (or selling anything!), so I had to get my cousin Sanusi, who was a seasoned salesman to help me spread the word.

We sent out blackberry broadcasts, what'sapp messages and even made fliers which we handed out at every given opportunity.

Gradually, we started garnering people's interest and word spread really quickly about the little Hausa girl that sells cheap no-brand CCTV gear.

Not only did I sell out my entire stock in 1 month, I also made a 200% net profit and had already ordered my next shipment before the end of the following month.

In all the scenarios that I had fantasized about 'making it' in life, I certainly didn't see myself being a CCTV dealer.

In my head, I was usually the CEO of an ice cream empire or Mrs. Clooney; a kept woman. Never an owner of a CCTV shop. Now I realise that this impulsive decision is the best decision I'd ever made.

The high crime rate and the boom of YouTube viral videos meant that my cameras pretty much sold themselves.

I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't think of a better time to set up a proper business.

I had customers from everywhere. Families, Corporate bodies, small banks, fast food chains, schools, supermarkets, filling stations, everywhere

But the client that changed my life was Mrs. Oputa.

Poor Mrs. Oputa