I'm Nigerian. Now, because i like the sound of my own voice, or, in this case, the look of my own words, i'm going to write a little exposition on that first sentence. I was born in London (Well, actually that has been brought into dispute in recent years. It seems that the hospital in which i was born is in a sort of no-man's land between London and Essex, so i may be an Essex boy. Make of that what you will). I am a product of England, but i am not English. I am British and proud to be so, but I was raised by my Nigerian parents, surrounded by their Nigerian friends and their Nigerian family; a microcosm of Nigeria within England. I am Nigerian.
Let's put that strangely phrased exposition to one side as the question of my identity is not the intended subject matter of this blog. I simply wanted to say a little something about my country. If you've ever heard a Nigerian talk about Nigeria or its people, you may have gotten quite a negative impression of the place. We often speak of a politics that is so corrupt that a not-so-uncommon tool, utilised by the ambitious statesman is assassination and a people so crooked that if you get robbed, you would avoid calling the police to avoid paying the money they'd demand for being called out.
Though these things do have an element of truth to them, the country is not quite as bad as we often make it out to be and i feel it should be pointed out that amongst all the peoples of the African Diaspora we have taken to white over blue collar crime with, arguably, the greatest zeal. Say what you will, but a good ol' fashioned scam, or 419 as we like to say, doesn't hurt nearly as much as getting pistol whipped for refusing to hand over your wallet. Well, it hurts less physically. I can't quantify the kind of pain a woman must feel when she discovers that Prince Babatunde does not want to make her his Princess and is in fact not real and the thousands of Pounds she sent over did not go towards fighting off a small military coup...
The negative image that Nigeria enjoys is not one cultivated entirely by Nigerians but also by the media and general misinformation. So often i am asked whether there is electricity in Nigeria. My ususal response is that there's not. I explain that upon arriving in Nigeria, you are stripped of your clothes and in their place given a simple loin-cloth made of cow hide. You are then provided a spear and instructed in how to hunt for your food and generally commune with nature. It is not until i speak about the best way to cool Monkey brains that the average person realises that i'm not being serious.
Nigeria has a certain vulgarity to it, but there is a profound beauty in it, too. From the moment you step off the plane, you know that you have arrived. The heat hits you and you can feel an energy. There is life, laughter and just a little bit of chaos in the air. The sky is made up of a subtly different colour pallet to that of an English sky. You see light pastel colours, purples, blues, oranges contrasting with the dark green of palm fronds. You see a city bustling with a vibrant people and you can feel a rich history.
In looking over this post, it's occurred to be that i drifted far from the point of my intention for it. I wanted to express what a powerful feeling it is to step off that plane and feel something move, perhaps my blood rejoicing to be home, to drive through a beautiful land and to have all my senses assaulted with the spirit of that place, to be confronted with this place of infinite promise...
I'll do it better next time.
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