Nothing at Home.
Prayers.
“Oh Lord, those who don’t want me to prosper, make them suffer mercilessly for the rest of their lives” - that was the first one.
“Oh God, anyone saying I should not make it in life, waste them and their household into terrible pieces” - the second one.
“My Father, My God! Anyone born of a woman that says that I will not see the new year, punish them, their children, their family members, and don’t let their forefathers rest” - that was the deal-breaker.
Dare rose from his bed hurriedly, with slight annoyance. “Who prayed this kind of prayer?” he thought to himself.
It was Mariam, the prayer warrior. Sincerely, he pitied her enemies. Even the devil doesn't deserve this, he chuckled.
“I pray for those going out, let them go and come back home safely in Jesus name” - the fourth one.
To that, he said, “Amen”. He was travelling to Germany. After nine years of graduating from UNILAG without a job, he couldn’t let his life wilt away. He must “hammer.”
Drawing toothpaste from the tube, he moved to the bedroom to bathe, glancing at the load he packed to travel.
Arriving at the airport at 9:30 am, he was calm. His flight was 11:00 am, so he was quite early. It had become part of him to wake up early in the morning, even if his appointment was in the evening. Right from primary school, he had always woken up at 5 am every day, while his mates woke up at 7 am.
It shifted to 4:30 am when he got admitted into the secondary school because he needed to read before attending classes. He was a serious student. He hated being late to class and was also brilliant. All for what? Nine years of unemployment without even 50 Naira to buy the cheapest body cream.
His whole family deserved better. They had suffered for him and laboured to put him through school. His younger sister had to wake up at 5:30 am every day while she was still in primary school because she needed to catch the school bus.
Now, he had won a scholarship to get an LLM degree abroad. He was that brilliant. “Safe journey. May you return home safely,” the embassy official said as she stamped his passport. Amen, and God forbid.
Amen. May he land in Germany safely? God forbid, may he not come back home. Instead, may he evacuate his family from home. He was escaping—escaping for good.
The Okada-man's tale.
“Aunty on red.”
“Aunty on red and black.”
“Aunty on red, black and purple.”
Such insolence, she thought within herself. These Okada men didn't know how to address a person properly.
But how could they address you properly when they didn’t know your name?
They had to call you based on your distinctive features, such as your height, complexion, and dress colour. For her, it was the colours of her dress and bag.
The one in the middle zoomed to come and meet her. He turned Okada deftly to avoid hitting her. She liked his business acumen.
“Airport”.
“N500”
On a normal day, it would be N300, but seeing her in a hurry and not wanting to go through the hassle of unloading her bags which she had already arranged on the seat, he took advantage of the chance.
“Hmph”, she grunted. As they began to move, the Okada-man’s phone rang.
“Yes?” the introductory remark.
“Oh, good afternoon,” upon recognising the voice at the other end.
“I know; I will send it to you today; just send your account number to me.”
It was about money. Everything in this country had to do with money, but why?
“Ok, I’ve heard”, concluding remark. He hung up the phone.
“How can someone go to school to study Biochemical engineering for four years, come out with a first-class and still be looking for job?” It was not really a question. The Okada-man just wanted to start a conversation.
On a normal day, she would ignore him, but he was an old man in his early sixties. It would be rude to ignore him. More so, what he said was related to why she was travelling.
“May God help us.” She replied.
“Amen o! But I still can’t understand how someone will graduate with a first-class degree and still be looking for a job,” the Okada-man said, persevering to start a conversation.
“Back in my days, once you graduated from the University, you had a car waiting for you plus a job at a big firm. But these thieves have wrecked the system.”
Upon hearing him say the word “wrecked”, she deduced that the Okada-man must be a literate, educated person who likely graduated from the university himself. Why then was he on the street driving Okada, if in his days there was a “car and ready-made job waiting for you”?
As if he could hear her thoughts, he said:
“I am a retired civil servant who retired four years ago. After my gratuity was paid, I can count how many times I’ve been paid pension. Four, no, five months in total.” Out of 48 months.
But he must have been a boss while working, deducing from his literary prowess, she reasoned. Government workers are paid way more than private workers. What did he use his money for? What of his gratuity?
Again, as if reading her mind, he replied:
“I invested half of my gratuity in shares and six months after buying it, the company folded up. The company never declared a dividend, nor did it compensate us. I heard the owner of the company joined the ruling political party, so he was let go.”
“Hmph”, the passenger sighed.
“It is well”, she retorted.
“What about my wife?” the Okada man asked, as if expecting her to ask, but since she didn’t, he brought it up.
“I gave her the remaining gratuity money plus a little out of my savings to rent a shop in a busy area, stock it with goods and sell,” he answered himself.
“It was going well until two months later. She went to the market and found her shop plus other people’s shops levelled to the ground, including the wares inside them destroyed beyond saleable quality.” He heaved as he continued his ordeal.
“They got no notice from the government while the government claimed it gave them notice. They protested for a while; then, the government promised to pay them 200k.
Maybe they’ll pay them tomorrow,” he said sarcastically, talking about an incident from two years ago.
They discussed it for a while before reaching the airport. She gave him 500. She wished she could give him more to mitigate his frustration, but she was no better. As she turned to leave, he stretched out 200.
She was surprised. “Thank you, sir,” she said and collected it. Maybe he was paying her for listening to him. That’s what many people in this country needed—a therapist. Things could drive one mad here, and they did.
It was not just the usual public, tear-your-cloth madness.
Get Down.
Sitting comfortably in the taxi to the airport, he listened to 109 FM. It was airing a special program. It was the program that motivated him to leave this country.
“Welcome to 109 FM, bringing you “Home to Abroad” program. If you’re just tuning in for the first time, stay tuned. We promise to bring you exciting…” the OAP said from the other end.
This was the type of program people needed, and they listened to it, for the program was an instant hit. It was even from the taxi's radio that he was listening to the program. The taxi driver probably wants to japa too.
“Today’s program will be about people’s testimony; people who travelled abroad and their lives changed drastically for the better, sorry, for the best,” the OAP continued, trying to crack a joke. One person called in.
“Yes, what’s your name and where are you coming from?” the OAP asked.
“I’m Emmanuel by name, and I’m calling from New York,” a voice was heard beneath.
“Okay, Emmanuel, tell us your story. How has your life been ever since you travelled abroad?”
“Ah! Very wonderful”, said Emmanuel, emphasising the word "very".
“I was a poor jobless boy when I was back home. I left with just two polythene bags and guess what?”
“What Emmanuel?” the OAP asked.
“I’m now using two cars and currently building my second house. I’ve sent word to Mama to find a wife for me. Life is blissful here.” Emmanuel replied.
“So, you don’t miss home?” the OAP asked.
“Of course, I miss home. Who won’t miss home? Our elders say, “There is no place like home.” Not everything is rosy here. I urge my fellow citizens back home to work together and make the country a better place. There’s no place like home, I wish I could come home.”, Emmanuel said and ended the call.
May God grant your wish, Ebuka cursed or blessed. There’s no place like home? “Mtchew,” he hissed.
“Be deceiving yourself that things are not rosy there. You’ve bought two cars, built one house, yet things are not rosy there. How rosy can it be? Greedy boy.” Ebuka complained.
It was not that he was unpatriotic. Of course, he was a patriotic citizen. That is why when he gets abroad, he will be sending money for cement, wood, nails and other things they need to build this country and make it a better place.
“Mtchew,” he hissed again.
Alighting from the cab, Ebuka paid the taxi driver two thousand naira and rolled his luggage away. Approaching where he would present his tickets, a man collided with him.
“Sorry”, the man apologised.
“My phone?” Ebuka demanded.
“Pardon?”
“I said my phone?” Ebuka asked again.
“Are you accusing me of stealing your phone?” the man asked.
That gave him out.
“Hand me my phone!” Ebuka shouted.
The man accessed him. Ebuka's face looked soft, like omo butty. He would be easy to handle. A little scare tactic and he should run.
“You wan dare me?” the man asked menacingly. He rolled up his sleeves and brought out a knife.
“Oya, move away, before I manya you,” the man threatened.
How wrong he was. His face was gentle but his soul wasn’t. Ignoring the scare tactic, Ebuka landed tremor slaps on the man's face and yanked his phone from his left pocket. It had to be there since he brought out his knife from his right pocket.
The man had never had an accident, but he was sure that if a trailer hit him, it wouldn't be any different from the slap he just received from this gentle demon.
Walking away, Ebuka laughed. How do you think he knew his phone was stolen? Ebuka had been a street thief like him, though he never developed into an armed robber.
Just because you see “street” attached to the “thief” doesn’t mean he was poor. He stole twelve iPhones to finance his trip abroad.
History.
Getting into the plane, Amina sat beside Dare. “Hello,” they exchanged pleasantries.
“I’m Dare”
“I’m Amina Abubakar,” she responded.
Amina Abubakar? He knew that name. He had heard it from somewhere. Yes! She was the girl who won several academic prizes and broke records at the Faculty of Medicine while in the university back then.
“Amina Abubakar? The girl that won one thousand pounds for writing that awesome article which got published in Oxford Medical Journal?” Dare recited.
“Yes, I am," Amina blushed.
Amina Abubakar had been a year lower than Dare in the university. She was a genius. Everyone back in school knew she would be a big shot when she graduated due to her numerous achievements while in school.
What was she doing on a plane? Was she also running away? Of course not! She was probably going for a surgery abroad. All these thoughts ran through Dare’s mind.
He was wrong. His first guess was right. She was escaping.
“But why?” Dare asked.
“This country is over-exploiting and under-appreciating me," she replied. Then she explained.
This nation had a ratio of one doctor to two thousand people, and she had to work eighteen hours at the clinic, instead of the standard twelve hours. Her salary was 60k. Just the cost of transport in this city’s crawling traffic was 30k per month, then feeding was expensive. Rent? Don’t even talk about it. She lived with her parents. She had never bought anything tangible for her parents to appreciate them for their efforts on her. She only bought petty things, like bread, fruits and suya. By the tenth day, sixty thousand would have vanished. The rest of the twenty-something days were on grace.
She couldn’t bear it. Gathering all her resources, she wrote the IELTS exam, got a visa and vroom! She was on her way to Germany—bye-bye to her country. It is often said that people travel for greener pastures. LOL. The sun shone the brightest in her country, yet the grass abroad was greener.
Dare understood her plight. At least, she had been employed. He was jobless for nine years straight. He could not allow his life to wilt away. Abroad is the way.
Arriving at his dorm, Dare settled down. He thought within himself. He would study hard. He would read. He would surely come out with good grades if not the best grades. But if things don’t look bright, he will run away. He will save for it. He needed to be smart and not count on luck. His home country had taught him that.
After staying at her friend’s place for two weeks, Amina eventually rented her own apartment. It was quite small. She’ll manage till she makes it. She had to reward her parents for the expensive textbooks and materials they struggled to buy in Med. School. It wasn’t going to be easy.
But she came from a place where 95% of the children had polio, yet she didn’t contract it. She came from a place where drug abuse was the norm, yet she didn’t smoke. She came from a place where girls stopped schooling and were married off at 12, yet she graduated with a first class at the University. She will not die. She’ll thrive.
Ebuka stared at himself in the mirror. He was muscular, built for great things, and great things he would achieve. Anthony Joshua made it, and so will he.
Obstacle.
If anyone had told Amina this was what America would be like during a pandemic, she would definitely not have left her country. America was a hotbed of COVID-19. It was facing a health crisis, and the health workers were being stretched seriously. Four of her medical colleagues had lost their lives to the COVID-19 pandemic. Three of her patients similarly died overnight due to the virus. She might be next.
Amina excused herself and went to the toilet. Five minutes later, she came out ready to begin her shift. She came out with swollen eyes like that of a person who just cried intensely.
Tears rolled down Dare's eyes. Why? He was lonely. It seems silly to you, right? Why would anyone living abroad on a scholarship be sad? Wait till you have to leave a place you spent twenty- seven years of life, leave the people you spent all your life with, to a country where communal life is absent with no one to unburden to like the loved ones you left at home.
"I will make it and bring them over here. I've come too far to give up," Dare sobbed, wiping his tears.
Emeka did not believe in generational curses, but at this point, he was beginning to give the theory the benefit of the doubt.
There was no job he did not do, yet he was unsuccessful. He knew three uncles of his who went abroad but were deported with nothing to show for it. Would that be his fate too? A fully muscled igbo man with several professional skills still finding it hard to afford the basic necessities of life. He needed to hustle harder!
Breakout.
Years Later
The phone rang for the third time. Daddy Dare got up annoyingly and checked his phone. Three missed calls from Dare, the son who had travelled five years ago. As he planned to call back, Dare called again. He excitedly picked it up.
“Hello, my son,” Daddy Dare started.
“Hello sir, good afternoon sir,” Dare responded.
“How are you and hope no problem?” Daddy Dare continued.
“No problem, sir, I just sent you four thousand pounds. Please use it to complete the travelling process. I want everyone here with me by December. I will try and send more,” Dare said.
Tears welled up in his father’s eyes.
“Thank you, my son. God will continue to bless you. Whatever you lay your hands upon will prosper. You will never lack.” Daddy Dare continued to pray for the next thirty seconds, to which Dare answered, “Amen”.
After the call, Daddy Dare dropped the phone and looked up with tears in his eyes. It has been five years since he saw his son. He missed him sorely. Dare bagged his LLM and now works with one of the leading law firms globally. He was rich. Travelling abroad paid off!
Ten years after going overseas, Ebuka found himself at Murtala Muhammed Airport again. He was deported. After struggling to make ends meet, he ventured into some unscrupulous activities and got deported after he was caught.
He left Lagos with three bags. Now he was back with just one mini bag and nothing to show for it. How would he face his mother and tell her he failed? What about the shame, disgrace and dishonour? Ebuka walked to a nearby shop.
“Good afternoon, please do you sell sniper?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. It’s three thousand,” the seller responded. Handing her all the money he had left on heaven and earth, he collected the sniper and muttered a thank you.
Amina became the minister of health in America. She was to give her speech in the next seven minutes. She had finally made it. America is her home country. A country that gives you the opportunity to breathe is your home. A country where you can succeed without undue influence is your home.
A country where you can drive past a policeman with ease and comfort is your home.
A country where thirty-year-olds are winning elections is your home.
A country where your opinion matters is your home.
Above all, a country where you can achieve your dream and reach your highest potential, where you are living and not just existing, is your home.
Good night.
