The following is an excerpt from a larger article that explains how sound

economic policy that leads to prosperity can help stop crime by preventing
young Nigerians from becoming criminals

The Transformation of Kabir

In 2009, while co-supervising a building project somewhere in Kaduna, I had the unique
displeasure of meeting Kabir (not his real name). Kabir was one of the labourers under
my supervision. Kabir – a bricklayer – was what many would consider the stereotypical
labourer from the northern part of Nigeria: in appearance, he was really dark skinned,
skinny, always dirty and had a face full of scars. I suspect that years of chewing tobacco
(and who knows what else) had corroded the enamel on his teeth, so they were brown in
the few places where they were not yellow.

I was always taught by my parents, teachers, and older people around me to never judge
a book by its cover, that I should never judge people based on how they looked; and as
things would turn out, Kabir was evidence that the teaching of the elders was true. If I
had judged Kabir by his appearance rather than his character, I would have made a grave
error. The saying proved true, not because Kabir was not as terrible as he looked, but
because in character, he was far worse than his appearance. He was a scoundrel of
scoundrels; he always seemed to be under the influence of some intoxicant; he was
aggressive, troublesome, and violent. There was nary a conflict at the construction site
that did not have Kabir as an instigator or [at least] a participant. He would often rile up
the other labourers at the construction site, stirring them to disorder and sometimes,
violence; this made that particular construction job more unpleasant than I expected.
Had it been in my power, Kabir would have been booted off the site on his first day
working with us because he fought with the head supervisor of the project because there
was not enough laterite for him to do his work. He accused us of not providing enough
materials for him to work so that we could have an excuse for not paying him his full
wage for the day. Imagine that! For some reason, the woman who owned the property
we were working on insisted that he stay on as a labourer. Perhaps she saw something in
him that the rest of us did not.

I would see Kabir occasionally for 2 more years after the project was completed. I made
it a tradition to pretend like I did not see him by looking at my phone whenever I walked
past him. He on the other hand, would always make it known that he saw me by shouting
“oga how far” or “oga, I dey greet oh!”. To avoid having conversation with him, I
developed the strategy of feigning that I was on the phone or in a hurry to go somewhere
whenever he called out to me. Sometimes, none of my techniques would work and I
would be stuck in awkward conversation with him. It seemed like every time we talked,
I would notice one new scar on his arm or face or some injury that was yet to be fully
healed; “injuries and scars no doubt sustained in one of his many fights” I would think to
myself.

I was away from Kaduna for 5 years and totally forgot about Kabir until one day in 2016
when I heard a familiar voice call out from behind me “oga, na you be that?” (Kabir and I
were never on a first name basis, so he called me “oga”). I was surprised when I turned
around to see it was Kabir. Upon seeing him, the feeling of awkwardness with which I
was all too familiar came rushing back. This feeling, however, was not solely stirred up
because I was talking to the miscreant of yesteryear but because Kabir looked much
different than I remembered.

The years did not do much to erase the scars on his face or whiten his teeth, but he looked
much better. He had gained some weight and was wearing a spotless white Kaftan and a
brown pair of shoes that looked more expensive than any shoe I had ever owned up to
that time. It seemed to me like he had bathed in perfume because the fragrance he
exuded was so strong that I could have sworn I tasted it in my mouth. This redolence –
nigh obscene though it was – was an immeasurable upgrade from the putrid rancidity
to which all who had the sore displeasure of being around him had grown accustomed.

The most surprising thing about him however was not the change in his physical
appearance but the change in his manner and tone. There was a calm about him that was
so foreign, it was unsettling. Just by looking at him, I could tell that he was no longer the
feral delinquent I once knew. The years had tamed him. For the first time since the first
day I met him, I was willing to talk to him, to know what was responsible for such a
change. In response to him asking how I was doing and where I had been, I conjured up
a word salad and gave a non-answer, not only because I did not want him to know
anything about me but also because I was more interested in knowing what happened to
him and didn’t want the topic to change from the story of his transformation to the
boring tale of the last half decade of my life.

He seemed to have picked up on my hesitance to talk to him about myself and dismissed
me (or so I thought) by telling me he was in a hurry to get to the hospital. “Oh, how the
tables have turned!” I thought to myself as I was usually the one who was in a hurry to
end my discussions with him. I feigned concern and asked him why he had to go to the
hospital. He told me that his wife had just given birth to twins, and he had to purchase
some items to take to her at the hospital. My head was spinning; “Kabir is married?, who
married him?, his wife gave birth to twins?” were some of the questions in my head at the
time. I asked how his wife and the kids were doing and he told me they were fine, but the
twins had to be born through a C-section and so there was more delay than usual in
discharging his wife and their twin babies. “Kabir can afford to pay for a C-section?” I
thought to myself again.

We talked for a few more minutes and he left to go about his business. I would be remiss
if I failed to mention that that 5-minute conversation was one of the more interesting
and enlightening conversations I have had in my life; and to think it came from one once
so odious. I learned from our little talk that the twins were not his first children. He
already had another child before the birth of the twins.

Later that day, I spoke with someone who knew him and learned that shortly after I left
Kaduna, Kabir took up training to become an electrician and that many people in the area
who saw his efforts gave him jobs to do and the rest is history. As soon as Kabir made
some money, he got married and settled down. He gave up his near subhuman behaviour
and became a contributing member of society. I heard that he would even speak to
younger boys who were just like him and encourage them to abandon the life of deviancy
and tread the “strait and narrow” as he did. It is 2022 and I have seen Kabir many times
since and am convinced that his change is not “a phase”, it’s not some momentary
penitence that will pass with time, but I strongly believe that the transformation of Kabir
is permanent.

A Lesson from the Story of Kabir

Kabir was a societal disaster waiting to happen; he had no family of his own, no
education or skillset, no money, and no job. As is common with many labourers, Kabir
would often go for weeks without finding a construction site where he could find work.
The times when Kabir found work, he lived day to day by finding a site where he could
make between ₦500 to ₦1,000 for a long and hard day’s labour. Even back in 2009, this
daily wage was barely sufficient to live on. Kabir would go many days without a proper
meal. He – like many young men – used to live in shanties made with wood for beams
and a combination of trampoline nylons and the lowest grade of aluminium roofing
sheets for walls and roofing. These did little to stop the cold of the night or the blistering
heat of the North Central Nigeria sun. Simply put, Kabir had nothing going for him. He
was the kind of youth who could be bent to do the disruptive and violent will of some
religious zealot, or politician.

Kabir always came off to me as one who could be easily turned against society with little
or no effort. All it would have taken some religious leader or politician to turn Kabir into
the weapon against society he was already primed to become, was to have blamed the
sad state of Kabir’s life on some other ethnic group or religion and Kabir would willingly
take out vengeance on those he perceived to be his enemies. Fortunately for Kabir, fate
would have a much better course charted out for him.

Among many lessons, Kabir’s story taught me that empty stomachs can make for good
weapons against society. Kabir had nothing to lose in his life and as such, his life had
little value to him. When he began to make some money, he had something to live for.
Life now had more pleasures to offer him and so he had to do his best to preserve his life
so that he could enjoy these newly found pleasures.

As is common with most young men who have not been destroyed by “hook up culture”,
when hunger was no longer a concern for Kabir, when he had enough to meet his needs
and to spare, loneliness began to set in. He – like most young men – began to desire to
share his newly found comfort with someone. This feeling led Kabir to find a woman to
marry.

Once he got married and had someone who depended on him, someone who waited for
him to return home every evening, it became nearly impossible for him to risk his life in
meaningless and often violent conflicts. The birth of his first child was an eye opener for
him. He could not believe that he brought life into the world. It would now be his life’s
mission to ensure that this adorable, helpless little blessing that he had brought into the
world would not go through the life he did. He was now more motivated than ever to not
throw his life away. Kabir found a new cause; he would still be a fighter, only this time,
he would fight for his family; he would fight to not only ensure their survival but to see
to it that they thrive in life. Kabir is still a weapon, an extremely dangerous one, but he
would be used – not against society – but to protect the society where his family now
lives. It would be a most herculean task to get Kabir to fight for anyone who was not
waiting for him back at home.