Give Us a New Land

You will never realize all of the attachments involved in coming from a certain place until your country is referenced as a threat zone. Suddenly, you feel your heart skipping irregularly, you are bothered because you should be, yet all around you there's no physical threat. There's the news and there are stories but they're not your neighbours so you shake off the feeling of fear and put on indifference, a style with no class.  

It will not occur to you how much the perspective of others mold the image of your origin until you are asked in an international space, where you come from, and the side talks become louder. You are from a people who have no moral standing. People treated with pity, worse than the homeless, even better than you had treated your last housegirl who shared no blood relationship with you.

                   *******

It's late afternoon this Wednesday and I am reading my second book of the week already. I curled on the armchair, paused Black Sherif's 45 that has been on replay, because, it is that time when words are more than just words and you want to feel every sentence re-read every line until it's more than a story but a feeling. 

There's this thing about African literature that heightens your mind's curiosity or maybe it's just me. Also, their stories are very relatable. This story is about life in Rhodesia ( which I hear is now Zimbabwe) and how most of them immigrated to America, some South Africa. 

The character in this story has a discussion with her friends( the ones she made after she migrated to America). One of them is Nigerian, and in between the conversation they make remarks of how she comes from people who send spam emails claiming they own companies just so they can beg, that her people are fraudsters, to spite her of course. 

It was only after I finished writing this piece that I realized I had long closed the book and was still trying to catch my breath. It felt as though a slap not directly targeted at me had hit me. Like I was in the midst of a burning bush but I was the only one who could feel the heat. This is not the first time I have felt this way. 

The other time, I recall, was in 2018 when Nigeria was declared the world's poverty capital by the World bank. This feeling was not fear or anger but disappointment; having always known Nigeria as the giant of Africa, taught to be proud and hold our heads high as citizens anywhere we found ourselves, this was a shocker. While still in the "giant country" we watched other non-giants discredit us to our face. 

Sometimes I say I'm hopeful, like every other youth says, but other times I wonder if I believe these words anymore. If they have not become plain salutations. 

                         *******

Elections come with a different kind of fear where I come from. Parents calling and making sure their children are at home before it got dark, talks of "this is election period anything is possible", "that's how they kidnapped Madu's son last week, nobody has heard from them. Who knows whether these politicians have used him for rituals'' fly around. 

When you come from people who believe in the spiritual this wouldn't be surprising. You hear consistently of people disappearing with no trace. You know it is possible for someone to talk to a stranger and lose control of their mind and if you check closely one in every ten families have had personal encounters. 

This is not the first time I will witness an election but this is the first time I am eligible to vote. 

We say democracy is the government of the people, for the people and by the people, yet the people's choice never counts. But I come from a people who never lose their spark and if for anything that is the one I am always proud of. 

This election came with so much optimism, this the first time young people are interested in political affairs. Young people making suggestions, driving campaigns. This in all my life is the first time the government has had to account for every wrong detail they put out. And though the topic of hope still battles on in my mind, I know I am proud to be present in a time like this. 

                   *******

In your neighborhood life begins at 6:00am, this is because you do not even live in the overpopulated cities. Say you leave your house anytime around past seven, you'll be sure to sleep on the road. 

Mama Nnedi pushes a wheelbarrow with food in it. She's up before five o'clock and makes rice, beans, plantain, spaghetti, and stew which she will sell off before noon. She does this six days in a week to put food on her table, to clothe her children, to make ends meet. The plumber who fixed your broken pipe has a car which he uses to run a taxi every now and then. You have not seen your neighbor because he works on sea and has not been home in the last three months. 

You will convince yourself that this is what you should think about. The good things, the people around you who are doing all the work. Look at the bright side. 

Still, it didn't change the reports. They're no reasons for fraud, so even when you know all the reasons you think they should be pardoned you know it is not enough. It bothers you that these adjectives describe everybody, all who come from this place. 

David was one of the brightest students in your school. He had good prospects. But months after he left secondary school he lost his father. Their family went bankrupt and he was left roaming the streets. You saw him last week after three years of not hearing from him. This time he is a big boy, he owns a house and has built one for his family. He drives a flashy car and though everyone knows the word on the street, none of them has the guts to judge. 

"If only the country was better…."

" Imagine what it would have been if youths got job opportunities" 

" Black market rate: dollar is now roughly equal to 800 naira" 

                   *******

The entertainment industry continues to hit records. It still feels like yesterday when Genevieve Nnaji's Lion's heart was recorded as Netflix's first Nigerian original film. A win that wasn't even personally ours was talked about everywhere. Over the years we have had more Netflix originals. There have been Grammy nominations and awards. All of which we have paraded as a personal win as well. 

Despite being the "world poverty capital", Nigeria still boasts of having the richest man in Africa. And just like the surplus theory of social stratification says, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. 

Like a waiting room, housing people who want to see a specialist, the country houses people whose hope lies outside its borders. 

But the rest of the population who cannot afford to even be in the waiting room continue to hope and cry, give us a new land.