Wow! It’s good to be back for real. I hope that I’m not advertising my Naija trip too much. If you feel that I am, please hit me back on my comment section or forever hold your peace...HeHe!! I go die o! In case you haven’t noticed, I don upgrade my pidgin English well well after this trip.
Where was I? Ehe, as I was saying, I went to obodo Naija…lol. I had a BLAHHHHHHHHHAAAASST!
Say what!
There are series of stories to be told, but I'll take it one blog at a time. Some are serious and some are just 'by the way' kinda thing.
Anyway, I arrived at PortHarcourt International Airport -Those of you who have been to that airport should probably be laughing by now. Cuz’ that piece of shyt should have been called 'Portharcout International death-trap farmhouse’. The plane dropped us off on the runway and we had to walk to this single room they called the terminal. I tell ya, the short walk from the plane to that room felt like hell. It was so darn hot. I felt like we were pretty close to hell’s entrance.
My Jamaican friend would say something like “Bom-ba klad man! me fe know dis place hat like this man! Lorry-lawd of marcy!
I was sweating like I had a fireball up my ass. When my family came running towards me, they probably thought I was ecstatic seeing them after such a long time. What they didn’t know was that I was at the verge insanity. The tears in my eyes weren’t emotional ones at all. I was crying because they were holding me back from running back into the plane…lol.
My first prayer in Naija was a request to God to install an air conditioning unit in Nigeria plus token money for NEPA so that there would be constant electricity.
***Oya e don do aje butter! ***
My fellow country people, you know there are Nigerians who visit naija and come back with all the horror stories in the world while they have this constipated look on their faces as if they haven’t taken a dump in years and you wonder if these guys are Nigerians at all. I think I’ve discovered the reason why such people have this revulsion about Nigeria.
This is a true story:
Meet one of my random naija friends from Maryland *** I will not mention his name here to avoid possible libel lawsuit. Not like he can get a penny out of me anyway *** lets just call him ‘O’l boy’.
STATS
Education: School Boy (community college)
Years in obodo oyibo (America): Got off the boat in 2002
Living condition: I won’t go tell. You won’t hear it from me at all.
Residence: studio apartment, Somewhere, Maryland
Fashion/style: mofo can hardly dress or speak properly. He looks like a pack of skittles with his fake ass throw-back jersey and tilted baseball hat.
My driver, Victor (by the way, this guy is the coolest guy in town), handed me a GSM phone which my sister set up for me. Quickly, I called O’l boy who arrived several days before me. He answered the phone with this accent, which I thought was a pretty good imitation of Kinta Kunte speaking English for the first time.
Me: “Ol’ boy I don come o”.
His response: “Yo kid, glad you made it safely curz”.
At this point, I realized there were a few people with him because of the voices in the background. That would explain the reason for his sudden Americanism. Well, I told him that I had just arrived. I was also curious to know what stories he had to tell.
He was like “Yeah son, I’m gonna chill with my peeps for a minute. Yo, I stay at Aspire hotel in D’Line you feel me? This mofo is a dump though, I’m just patching up over here until I get back home to tha States”
I could imagine his friends on the background looking at him awestruck thinking to themselves that this guy has it made. Meanwhile, O’l boy dey patch up for studio apartment for America o.
I though to myself “O’l boy make you take am easy o. You go wound o”.
Meanwhile the driver and I searched for tha hottest suya joint in the city. I got my aboki suya before I got home that evening.
Fast forward two days later…
The door bell rang at about 10 am and my niece answered the door. It was the gateman. He said there was a gentleman at the gate who wanted to see me. It was O’l boy. I asked him in, ran to the bathroom to freshen up. I was still high with shayo from the previous night’s party. When I got into the living room, O’l boy had planted himself on my favorite seat remote control in his hand. There was a chic seated on his lap (I must confess, this girl is off tha hook). He proceeded with this accent thing coupled with matching gangster-like attitude. Of course he had the over-sized gear, du-rag and a baseball hat. But he had this scowl on his face. I couldn’t figure out if the grin on his face was as a result of the alarming heat outside or the weight of the girl on his skinny legs. I swear the AC in the room could do little to cool him down. I could bet on my nuts that this guy must have been on fire cuz’ it was hot as hell outside.
To cut a long story short. This guy ran out of money within a week. He still had 2 weeks left on his trip. His entourage dissipated in a hurry. With is fake ass accent and attitude gone with his friends, he came asking for help from me. He needed a place to stay so I offered him a room in at my crib.
In the end, he had nothing to offer but a few illusions which he was able to create in the minds of the few people who where around him. Illusions of untold riches here in America; but he forgot the minor details about his plight here in America.
You see, his parents reside in the village where there neither electricity nor portable water. They can hardly fend for themselves. Yet this young man who was fortunate enough to obtain an American visa through this lottery stuff was unable to fend for his family when he could. He failed to utilize that opportunity. Rather, he sort to boost his own ego by making people around him feel smaller than he is. In the end, he only lied to himself and he returned to the states with his face in his hands knowing that the little change that he would have offered his parents would have gone along way in helping their plight. He soon realized that his phony friends are no friends at all. They are all hound dogs looking for what to gain from him.
That, my friends, is exactly the type of mentality that his hurting our fellow Nigerians, especially the ones who hardly expected the opportunity to be here in America or Europe.
I was born her and I have spent half of my life in the Unites States, yet I find it imperative to embrace my culture. If possible, to share knowledge and awareness to those who are not as fortunate. Truly, there isn’t anything which suggests that if they have the same opportunity that I have, that they wouldn’t do better than myself. If I may ask, what could be more important that your identity? Whenever you have the opportunity to embrace it, do not hesitate because that may be your only chance to do so. Putting yourself on a peddle stool without adequate support will only result in you crashing down to earth face down.
There are Nigerians who are caught in the euphoria because people flock to them for the fact that they have just returned from a white man’s country. They attain this “higher than thou status”; they love it, get intoxicated with the dollar power and they get a blast out of making folks back home appear smaller. What people don’t realize is that such people can hardly feed themselves back in Europe or America or wherever they reside. Oftentimes, the money they take home is obtained from their credit cards or bank loans. They give the young ones at home false hope. Make promises they cannot fulfill. These are the kind of people who return with all the disparity because towards the end of their visit, they have fallen from grace.
Embrace your people and your culture because you miss it and that’s why you went home in the first place. O’l Boy, start by loosing the phony accent.
The alley where we meet during lunch everyday is cold as a dungeon without our daily chatter. I await my cohorts. The skyline is grey. Cars honking their horns, the streets look busy-humans and cars going in every direction here and there. Down the alley is dQueenb heading my way. In her striking silhouette, she walks with an air of reckless abandon yet poignant and riveting with her stories. I could listen to her talk all day long. Somehow, she has God’s favor on her side for she has the most remarkable command of metaphors and vocabulary which will caress your imagination, make you laugh and cry in the same breath. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say today.
Walking behind her is Nneka. Controversial as hell and forever edgy. A true Nubian queen with unmistakable beauty. Keen as the eyeball on the dollar. Her lurks pulled back leaving one strand dangling over her right eye revealing her stunning face. Her winter jacket doing little to hide her stunning features. Lawd knows what emotions she would stir up today. Nevertheless, I missed her like crazy.
Ahh is that 'so-obscure' is see walking down the strip? Yeap, sure is. This brova is mad cool and always on point with his views on issues. I missed you bro.
My cell phone rings, its Adaure's call. Busy as usual but she promised to be her on time for the gathering.
Hmm, slowly but surely the crowd keeps getting bigger. The chatter grows louder. These walls cannot hold us back any longer. We must change the world with only our voices as our weapons.
I'm glad to be back after a long holiday trip to Nigeria. The year is new; the terrain familiar. Faces so often new and my friends are more. I’m glad to be back on tha block. I'm glad to share my lunch time with you again.
THERE ARE STORIES TO BE TOLD!!!
