Nigerians Share Their Experiences On Getting A Permanent Voter’s Card (PVC) 

As elections draw near, Nigerians have transferred their keyboard warrior energy to get their PVCs, and not everyone has the same experience with the collection.

As elections draw near, Nigerians have transferred their keyboard warrior energy to get their PVCs, and not everyone has the same experience with the collection.

Some people were nice enough to share theirs: 

1. Jay

Man, if not for the crowd at the door and the armpits you had to smell, it would have been hard to believe this was Nigeria. ‘Cause I spent less than 10 minutes and had my card smiling back at me. Pessimists may ask if we even had to spend up to 10 minutes. But, man, this is Nigeria. And I think that this in itself is a step-up.

2. Joy

Mine arrived in Church shaa. I gave an INEC official my printout and, gbam, the next Sunday, she brought it to me in Church. You could call it the perks of knowing someone in the circle. No stress. 

3. Pam

First day: First, the almighty and untouchable officials asked me to look for a woman in a red dress.

The woman took my card and later called me into their “hallowed” chambers. It would have been tolerable if all I had to deal with were the sweaty armpits, sticky skins, and the guys who just had to show themselves and their bad breaths.

But the woman started querying me; “Whose card is this? These numbers don’t match! Why are you stressing me nau?” 

In my mind, I was thinking about my t-fare. Because, of all the places in my “beautiful” State, INEC chose to send us all the way into the village when we were just trying to be patriotic.

Las-las, I had to come back another day—after Christmas. 

This time, they told me to go elsewhere because they moved and didn’t have the courtesy to announce it on the radio.

What was more hurtful was that I passed the new collection centre on my way. It wasn’t even up to 10 minutes away.

I finally got there and stood in the line for about 10 minutes before they found my card.

I took pictures because e reach to celebrate, abeg.

4. Oge

I used to think that being Nigerian meant having anger as a constant state of being.

But the INEC officials I met were so nice! They took their time to look for my card, and apologised when it hadn’t been printed. They weren’t like the angry INEC officials that I’ve grown to be familiar with.

It was a fine experience. 

5. Nisha

There was a knock on my door. 

Odd time. 11 AM. When everyone was either at work, school, or the market. 

When I answered, a thick woman with loose skin at the elbows, wiping her neck with a green handkerchief told me she was from INEC and had my PVC. 

At first, I thought, “Ndi one-chance” and stepped back to create space between us.

But she pulled out a stack of cards and requested my name. I told her and she begun looking. It was in the second stack. 

…She asked me for 1k, and I asked if the card wasn’t free. She sized me up and down and asked, “Shey na your jet carry me come? Ngwanu, come and get your card.”

Like play, like play, this woman carry my card waka. Otilo.

Yeah!!! 

You made it to this point. You’re the real MVP, and we’ll love to hear your stories.

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