I Asked For It...

I know I wrote a woe-is-me introduction and gave you the impression that moving back home was the best thing I'd done in a gazzillion years. Well, umm... I'm going to tell you a secret. Don't tell anyone; promise?

Bring your ear very close to the screen: "I miss being a couch potato."

You know the problem, it's this whole 9 - 5 bruhaha. (Or as it is in my case, 8:35 till anytime between 5:30 and 7pm). Lemme lay it down like it is.

Couch Potato-ism:

1. All I was doing was job hunting. I could afford to miss my alarm, on the days when I set it.
2. True that I was broke, but every bonafide couchpopato knows that you must have someone you can be mooching off of (you should be someone's parasite). I had one of those, and God bless her heart. I miss her so much. She worked and made money for both of us. I got used to not paying for anything, that my wallet got missing in my room, a few times.
3. I had too much time on my hands. I could afford to braid my friend's hair and do some mall hopping in the same day. And maybe crown it with dinner with my sugar-mama (babe who was spending money on me in '2').
4. I could spend time talking to my friends, on the phone, in person, or on messenger. We would just sit in the grass with sunglasses, sipping on smoothies, at 2.45pm. They were prolly between classes or taking a late lunch break, while I was just, you know, being...
5. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. I love to cook, bake and experiment in general. So, there was always time to make another cake, and cook for my friend's boyfriend's sister's best friend's 'Girls Night In'.
6. I had time for things I really enjoyed - singing in the choir, bowling, baby-sitting, handcraft, wakadugbe (walking around, visiting people), writing, TV, and those other things that I don't have to feel bad about doing, even without a reward.
7. Even other people allowed me to be irresponsible. They knew I wasn't working, so I wasn't expected to give them gifts on their birthdays, or contribute to pot lucks, or pay for myself at a restaurant, or pay my own phone bill. (I love my friends!)

J-O-Bism:

1. What a catastrophe to miss the alarm.
2. I have my own personal parasites now. They are called younger siblings.
3. It took me three days to braid my hair myself, and I even had a weekend o. I haven't bought even a pair of slippers (as in 'Dunlop' salubata) since I moved back.
4. I'm always invisible on Yahoo messenger, always 'Busy' on Google chat and I don't remember my MSN password. The last time I had a smoothie was in March. I used to scold people for ignoring calls, I am now a PRO.
5. This is how my kitchen trips work: In the morning, I pop in to pick breakfast, when that's available; I always make myself a cup of tea. In the evening, I pop in to 'place an order' for dinner. Once in a light green moon, I'll bake, or make pancakes, or something I have a very bad craving for - like Spaghetti Bolognaise. (There should be a light green moon tonight...)
6. My 'trips' are seriously dulled by the fact that the 'older ones' think that they always need to know where I'm going. I mean, my G'Mama pratically followed me to a house party last night! (I'll whine about that later).
7. Irresponsible fire! I have to make a budget, and stick to it! It's exhausting.

I mean, I won't exactly say 'bring back the days of joblessness' but like do we have to work every week day?

...Cos I'm A Naija Boi!

Ha! And now I finally BLOG! This is a first, so I’m gonna try to do it differently. Lemme know what y’all think. You might understand why I get a tad too analytical occasionally and always give disclaimers even when speaking :D. Here goes…


Prelude

My father and I have developed a rather interesting relationship. For each major step in my life, he always provides advice and balanced, yet convincing, arguments. Decisions on specifics are generally left to me. Each decision I take however needs to be backed with solid reasons based on HARD facts to carry him along. Umm…yea, he’s a lawyer.

As some of you know,“¯I’m a 9ja boy!¯” to the bone <Big ups Eldee>. So it’s always been my intention to return home. “When” was always the issue. Just before graduation in December 2006, I had interviewed with a few companies who were offering all sorts of wonderful packages, but my then-efiko heart was yearning for graduate school. So I shunned them. I mean, my soon-to-be alma mater was offering me free graduate education with research assistant position and I’d been accepted into one of the best graduate engineering schools (hereafter, µBGES) around. What more could a pre-op efiko ask for?

Small problem: µBGES doesn’t start till the fall semester. But alma mater begins right away.

·Act 1, Scene 1 – The Decision

Light bulb! I get an ingenious idea.

Me, thinking: “Why don’t I attend alma mater now and then go start at µBGES in the fall? Costs me nothing to attend alma mater, no?”

ÉI discuss with dad. Dad thinks it’s a decent idea. Note: “decent idea” generally means “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

After three weeks of vacation in New York (# 5 on my Miss List), yours truly begins engineering graduate school at alma mater.

ÉDad calls.

Dad: “My guy, how far na? What about coming to Nigeria for the next six months until it’s time to go to µBGES? I don ‘rrange one joint like that plus like some 3 babes join for you.”

Me: “Ah pops, I don’t really understand Nigerian girls y’know.”

Dad: Small tin. You know say you be Yankee boi na. E go easy. Nuttin do you.

********** CUT! **********

Sorry guys, that’s not really part of the script. Getting carried away here; uh…let’s do this again.


*

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********** ¸ ACTION! · **********

After three weeks of vacation in New York (# 5 on my Miss List), yours truly begins engineering graduate school at alma mater.

É Dad calls.

Dad: “Hey son, how about coming to Nigeria for the next six or seven months until it’s time to go to µBGES?”

Me: “Okay…that’s new…but what will I be doing there?”

Dad: “Well, I’ve arranged something for you. They should be calling you soon.”

Me: “Umm…I have other ideas. Lemme go think on it and I’ll get back to you.”

Honestly, I don’t want anything more! But I need to prove to him that it is the best option, all factors considered.

I carry out a comprehensive cost/risk analysis of all my options in preparation for my discourse with dad. Indulge me.

Cost vs Risk
1. Accept a job and work Low cost Low risk
2. Stay at alma mater Moderate cost Low risk
3. Return home High cost High risk


*Cost: Cost of travel, settling, fees, bills, etc
Risk: visa/immigration status (always a bitch eh?)


Me: “Look dad, I’ve done all my analyses and clearly, coming to Nigeria is the worst idea based on facts.”

Dad: “True, but I want you to come back and have a look-see. Check out the system. I’ve organized an internship for you at a multi-national where you’ll have firsthand view of the Nigerian business environment. See if it’s something you’d be interested in.”

Me, thinking: “God, after just 1 week of school, the mere fact that I had to sit through another class with even worse efikos (some undergraduate sef) immediately after graduation cantankerously and effectively nullified any elation I had experienced when I collected my B.Sc pali.”

No friends. Everyone has graduated and left respectably.

Apartment-search wahala.

No money for pocket. (As we all know, 9ja parents don’t send money once they hear you’re working. Doesn’t matter whether na $5.15 per hour at 10 hours a week you dey do.)


Me, thinking: “Omo mehn, I’m out! Back to the comfort of round-the-clock food service, driver, little or no expense, major cash inflow from the ‘rents, and just generally flossing. Nice!”

But wait.
Brothers and sisters, did I mention that my father is a lawyer? You HAVE to come correct. Verify and counter-verify contractual agreements before entering them cos mehn… you can be screwed over for your own carelessness.

I made sure I listed like 10,000 concerns, all of which he assuaged. Then:

Me: “OK, so this means you will bear the full cost of my flight, stay and return?”
Dad: “Yes.”
Me: “…and give me a whip to get around?”
Dad: “Yes.”
Me: “…and get me a job?”
Dad: “Yes.”
Me: “…and support me if the money I earn doesn’t cover all?”
Dad: “Uh…yes.”
Me: “…and pay off my credit card debt?”
Dad: “Uh…yea, that’s taking it too far. Na you carry gbese…pay it off yourself!”
Me: “Haha! OK! I’m in!”

a Call the special friend who doesn’t think too highly of the decision.
a Tell a few other buddies.
a Send off parties.
a Move two-thirds of my stuff to the H.
a Pack the remaining one-third in 2 suitcases.
a Kill off phone, water, electricity, etc.

The special friend drives me to DFW for the final goodbyes.

Me: “Hey, you know what? I’ll call you everyday. Plus I’ll be online all the time so we can chat. It’s like an extended vacation! I’ll be back on Aug 6! See my return ticket now.”


…little did I know!

The Miss List

I started packing the other day in anticipation of the big move home and got to thinking about all the little things that i'll miss. I'm wicked excited about this move (most days), but I have my reservations. Here goes;

I’ll miss walking around downtown at 2 in the morning and not feeling the least bit threatened.

I’ll miss going to concerts and hanging out with rockstars afterward. (Okay, that only happened the one time, but damn was it fun and i've got the pictures to prove it!)

I’ll miss advanced movie screenings of small-budget movies that will likely never get a huge theatrical release. I'll miss 'volunteering' at the Tribeca Film Festival (otherwise known as watching free movies, collecting free swag while not doing a damn thang!)

I’ll miss New York

I'll miss making good money.

I’ll miss my winter coat, hats and scarves, even though I never thought those words would escape my lips. I’ll miss how snow makes everything beautiful.

Good God, how I’ll miss my friends.

I’ll miss hopping on the train and arriving where I need to be twenty minutes later.

I’ll miss steady, constant, fast Internet, not to mention steady and constant electricity.

I’ll miss Friday Night Lights, The Office, 30 Rock, Entourage, Real Time, Jeopardy, Chuck, Flight of the Conchords... (I watch waaaay too much television)

I’ll miss my siblings.

I’ll miss my independence.

I’ll miss Macy’s, and shopping in general.

Oh, my beloved Barnes & Noble!

I’ll miss not being able to wear that sexy-ass trench coat I bought two months ago in anticipation of the fall.

However, I will NOT miss not having a job, not having enough money, being depressed all the time, not having a dog, being plan-less and purposeless., being an interloper in what feels like home...

So I suppose there’s always trade-offs.

We ARE our Biggest Problem

So, we were at Community Development (CD) yesterday, and the coordinator came in to talk to us about doing better at developing our community (Maybe I should start with some background info).

Every corper has a day during the week when he/she is expected to show up at the designated local government area office to take part in 'real community service'. So, a corper could be in the traffic management group, or the environmental group, etc. At each meeting, you'd do something related to the goal of your group, for the benefit of the local government area you belong to. After meetings, you should get your CD card signed as proof that you were present.

Anyway, so the lady spoke against our non-chalant attitudes and explained that the only reason she gives us grief is 'cause we've completely abandoned the real gist of CD and are only concerned about getting our cards signed, and disappearing. She then asked us to talk amongst ourselves about things/projects we could take on and, you know, get busy with what CD is all about.

As soon as she finished talking, this nincompoop started making noise, asking the President of the group to do something about getting our cards signed. And I'm thinking to myself: 'is she an idiot, or just pretending to be one?' It may be safe to say here that I'm not an oversabi house-babe. I don't love going to these meetings. In fact, I think the entire program is a joke, because what it has deteriorated into is a far cry from what it was intended to achieve. Corp members live in fear in some states, and some others finish the service year and are left roaming the streets, looking for jobs. Let's leave that for another post. Now, where was I?

Yes. So, though I do not love the program I believe there is a correct way to ensure that it works in your favor. What if everyone of us was as selfish and short-sighted as this 'colleague' of mine? The whole world would be in a major regression. Did she think that the rest of us enjoyed sitting and wasting away? Hell, we were even trying to help by discussing projects and stuff. (We had to show her minutes of our discussion before she'd sign the stupid cards).

This, I believe, all boils down to the Nigerianness that we have to unlearn, for a better future for this country. Say Girl and I ended up in the same organization in the future, (though I'm sure we won't work well together), I would not entrust any responsibilities to her, because my understanding of her attitude is that she is unable to think of anyone but herself.

Maybe I'm thinking too deep, 'cause it's just NYSC right? That's easy to say, but the truth is that it's not just NYSC. There's a Yoruba proverb that says: Iri ni si, ni iso'ni l'ojo. (Someone please help me translate it verbatim), but the general idea is that you judge someone by the picture they portray of themselves. My mind doesn't put the situation in context, and say: 'Oh, she was frustrated, yada yada'.

Ok, lemme just stop.

Unashamedly Nice

My job involves quite a lot of face time with the general public so I occasionally run into people I’ve met through work. It’s always the usual “Oh, how far, can’t stop, see you later” kind of thing.

On one particular occasion last week, I was out with a colleague at one of our other branches and as we were walking past a conference room, a man suddenly got up and started waving and smiling at me. I had to look behind me because only a close friend would be that happy to see you and as far as I knew, I didn’t have a tall, good looking gentleman friend in his late thirties/early forties. If not for the fact that he was well dressed in a fine suit, I would have run away thinking he was a lunatic.

I moved closer to the conference room where he opened the door and finally explained that I had helped him out with a transaction a few weeks ago when he came to my office. Suddenly, I remembered the smile and it all came flooding back. It had been my first week on the job. Everything was still new and I was pretty slow dealing with customers. The normal reaction was always impatience or anger but this man was just so cool about it. I remember thinking he was weird because he was just so pleasant. Is that normal? Since when did I start to see rudeness as the norm! I was actually discussing this with ISHA and she noted that people are generally not that nice to each other anymore especially in Jand and Yankee. I got used to seeing people walk straight past a person clearly in need of help...like 'This is none of my business'. Over here, at least someone would stop and ask what the problem is.

The encounter was short, all he wanted to say was hello and ask how I was doing at work. He was so genuine. I really hope I gave the right amount of kindness back but to be honest I was just in shock, lol!

Life makes you a little cynical at times. There are actually nice, decent people out there and we don’t always have to be on the defensive.

He may not have completely restored my faith in mankind but with that little gesture, that man totally made my day.

Taking A Leap of Faith

“I’m never going back to that hell hole!” Those were my own words only two years ago at the prospect of moving back to Nigeria. It’s funny how things change. Let me give you the background story. I moved to England when I was 17 years old, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed ready for a new adventure. I started off at a boarding school and took to British life pretty quickly, I mean who wouldn’t? It was the first time I experienced social order and an almost corruption-free environment. Everything was a bus or train ride away and there were lots of things to do to while away the time.

As the years went by, I was certain that I would never live in Nigeria again...at least not in my youth. After graduation I got a job, which wasn't my dream job, but you have to work your way up, right? I figured I'd gain some work experience and keep pursuing what I really wanted. I had it all planned out and it looked like it would all work out my way. Boy was i wrong!


I enjoyed being a working gal, waking up early running to catch the bus, having a productive day at work (not to mention the free tea and coffee!) and having extra money to spend on clothes and concerts (my two favourite things). It was all hunky dory before the credit crunch knocked on my door and double-slapped me.


My contract with the company was up for renewal but they couldn't afford to have two temps so it was decided that the foreign chick had to go. It made more sense to keep the person who was British and didn't have any issues with work visas. My situation: I had the right to work in the UK for another year and a half on my post-study work visa and I would need a company to apply for a work visa on my behalf if i was to continue to work after that period.

I was upset but stayed optimistic. "Ah! This is my chance to find that dream job". I spent most of the summer applying and interviewing for jobs but the work permit issue seemed to be a hurdle I couldn't get over.

Recruiter: "I'm sorry we can't afford to employ you for just a year, we'd rather train someone who will stay with us for a long time"
Me: "Doh! Get me a work permit after a year then"
Recruiter: "Er..I'm afraid that's against our policy"

This was the story for several months. I was beginning to lose confidence in myself with each application. It was so disappointing. I kept thinking 'Dammit! I have a degree and masters for God's sake'. My parents had spent over 70,000 pounds on just tuition alone in the past 7yrs and I had no job to show for it.

The days began to blend into each other. A typical day was like this.....

12.30pm - Literally drag myself out of bed and turn on my computer to see his i had any responses on the job front

1.00pm - Have lunch (or should i say Breakfast!) and then take a shower
1.30 - Send out some more CVs or go to an interview
3.00pm - Watch TV, eat, eat some more or fall asleep
6.00pm - Get the usual worried call from mum and pretend I'm alright
7.00pm - Chat with my best friend (SongSmith) in the US who knew exactly how it felt cos she was going through the same thing
8.00pm - Call my sis and gist for like an hour courtesy of Vodafone 'stop the clock'. Lol.
9.00pm - Look for more vacancies to apply for
12 in the morning - Eat some more
2am - Cry and call my friend again
3am - Go to bed, the bed i hardly got out of! I would toss and turn till about 7 or 8am


With all the eating and weird sleeping patterns, it doesn't take a genius to figure out i was deeply unhappy and turning into a hermit! I didn't have a lot of friends around after Uni ended because most of them were foreign and had the good sense to go back to their respective countries. The others lived too far away for me to hang out with them on a regular basis.

Eventually my parents told me "If you ever want to have a real career, you had better come back home to Lagos! What EXACTLY are you doing there? Even if you get a permit, there is only so much you can achieve in another man's country."

It was one of the hardest thing I've ever had to do and sometimes i still wonder if i made the right decision. I didn't want to leave my sister and the comforts of Jand but I had to trust that God was in control. It was like a bungee jump...I just shut my eyes and Jumped! And here I am in Lagos doing my NYSC. I've been here for almost eight months and its been....different! Lol! I can't think of a better word.

Having called somewhere else home for over seven years, it was like being in a foreign country again. It's different when you come to Nigeria for school holidays. You'll experience culture shock like you did when you first went away and re-adjusting takes time. I'm not going to lie. You'll probably hate the first few months and resent the fact that you are back (depending on the circumstances in which you came) . It's frustrating to go from an ordered society with 24hr electricity to NEPA, where you'll be lucky to get two hours per day if at all, heavy road traffic, armed robbery and corruption.

You have to have your wits about you. You have to become a 'type A personality' because having any other personality will surely ensure that you always finish last. Nice means push-over here! It's a trait that should only be shown to close family and friends. Lol! I'm working on it.

Also, if you're female, you'll probably find it difficult living under your parents roof again because it's unsafe for a lady to live alone in Naija. It was a shock to go from practically answering to no one and then all of a sudden have some of that independence taken away from you.

At least for now I'm living a life and not existing in a land called LIMBO! It's better to move forward however challenging it may be.

Homeward Bound

I made the decision to return to Nigeria last Tuesday. I was sitting on a couch with my brother-in-law in Brooklyn and he asked me a simple question I couldn’t answer. “What are you doing here?” Simple as that. “What are you doing here?” You’re allowed to be uncertain about a lot of things in life but I’m fairly confident that your reason for being shouldn’t be one of them.

I’ll give you some background. America, in its infinite wisdom, decided that the most sensible basis upon which to award work visas was a lottery. And as with every other lottery I’ve ever entered into, my name was conspicuously absent from the shortlist when all was said and done. I hung around the US for a year after that hoping for – I dunno – a visa to fall out the sky or something. I worked a couple of odd jobs here and there and got by on my swiftly diminishing savings and the kindness of strangers. Finally, that afternoon on the couch, I was forced to own up to the fact that I was killing myself to stay in a country that, by all appearances, no longer wanted me. It had given me no job. It had given me no money. It had given me no joy. I was in a relationship that was well past its sell-by date. In fact, I was no longer in a relationship; I was in a relation-shit and it was time to end it.

So, it was with this understanding that I made the decision to go back home. I use this term ‘home’ loosely because we are talking about a place that I haven’t been to, or really wanted to go to in seven years. I’ve done all my growing up in Washington DC; went on my first date, went to my first concert, got my first job, bought my first home. Sure, Lagos was where I was born, but how would I fit in there as a fully-formed, incredibly opinionated woman? How would I live in a city where you have to drive everywhere when I’ve spent the last seven years living in one with a subway stop on every corner? How would I live in a city where a good day means you got two hours of constant electricity instead of one?

They say you can never go home again? Well, for my sake, let’s hope that’s not true.

Gasp! What have I done?!

I remember the day I was moving back home.

I had been booked on a BA flight. I got to the airport about 3hrs ahead of time with three weighty bags and sweaty palms. It was going too smoothly to be true. And then of course, I hadn't thought I'd need a transit visa to go to Lagos through London, but with the new Terminal at Heathrow... 'Sorry Ma'am, you won't be able to travel today, or anytime in the next few weeks because you have to get a transit visa'. See crying... I think the tears were really because of the uncertainty I was feeling; they were just masked in the uncomfortable situation at the time. It was all fixed somehow, and I still travelled that day.

Wait, why did I start this epistle... Oh yes! The day I moved back home... So, I called my 'sisters' to say good bye, and it was time to switch off all electronic devices and I was like, 'Shit, what have I done?'. At that point, it had all come to an end. There was no turning back, I couldn't pull a 'Stop the plane, I can't leave the love of my life' stunt, like in the movies.

I started school in Chicago at the age of 17. I was so excited. My family friends had been at the same school, and there was so much to look forward to. I had been itching for my freedom, and I finally had it. Whoa! I didn't become a wild child, but I definitely enjoyed the liberty of going out without permission, and doing my homework when I felt like it, not when Daddy ordered for it to be done. School was fun! (Not needing permission to hang out with boys too was a blast! Lol)

I did two interships in my Junior and Senior years, and I somewhat established myself in the industry, so I had to reason to think there wouldn't be any glitches when it was time to get a job. Right? Wrong!

Finals ended on the 14th of December, 2007. I gave myself a two month holiday, anticipating that the offer letters would pour in, and I'd be confused about which job to choose. How foolish. By the time my family came to celebrate my graduation the following May (2008), I was still waiting to be confused, and the recession was getting fatter. Did I mention being broke? Meeeeen! I was the definition of broke. My folks had stopped sending me pocket money when I got my first on-campus job. At this point though, they knew I was struggling, so they helped out once in a while. It was not a pretty sight. I braided hair, did flower arrangements, catered for my friends' get-togethers, did administrative work at my church and all other sorts to make sure I didn't see red in my bank account.

The companies were not excited about hiring this intelligent black female engineer (sorry, I had to toast myself a lil), cos she was a foreign student. They would have to prove that there was no American citizen who could take up the job she was to be hired for. Plus, they would make this huge investment to get her a work wisa, without a guarantee that she would get it. It wasn't worth the hassle, as far as they were concerned. Meanwhile, my work permit was wasting away. It was valid from February 2008 to February 2009.

I got fat because I cooked for therapy. I was very excited about feeding people, and myself of course. It was pretty much the only feeling of fulfilment I got. I remember picking up my phone one day after talking to God, and sending a text: "Mummy, I want to come back home". She called me immediately because she thought I was crying. I was so calm about it, that I was sure I was doing the right thing.

Somehow, I found myself in New Jersey for three months that I dreaded with all my life; living in a village and working as a sales personnel at Joyce Leslie.

I think the best thing about being back home for me is that I am doing something. I've been called a busybody many times, so that's not suprising actually. I mean, it's not been a jolly ride all along. I miss the CTA. I miss going out because I want to, not because Daddy finally allowed me. I miss my church.

Though I wake up some days longing for the security and irresponsibility that a classroom allows you, and though I haven't the faintest idea what I'd have done with myself in the next year or two, I love that I'm at home. I love that this is my own land of opportunity.

I'm just as excited as you to see where my life goes from here.

About Us

Foreign Exchange gives you a unique look at life in Nigeria from the perspective of four young individuals who have lived abroad for most of their adult life and have now moved back home for one reason or the other.

We started this Blog as a resource for anyone faced with the question “Should I move back to Nigeria?”. For most, this is probably one of the hardest decisions you'll make in life depending on your feelings about Nigeria. We hope that through writing about our experiences, we might help someone make that decision. We'll tell you EXACTLY how it is (no sugar-coating) so you'll know what to expect. We are all at different stages....one of us is already in the process of moving back, two of us are currently on the NYSC program and the last person recently completed the NYSC service year and is working.

Foreign students now living in Nigeria are viewed as the ajebotas. So, though we beg to differ, you can accept our P.O.V. as 'the worst it can be'. If that makes any sense. (You get? As in, it can't be worse than these Ajebotas think it is).

Each one of us will follow this post with introductions to help you familiarize yourselves with the characters. We're so excited about this movement, I think mostly because we also are excited to see the lengths and breadths that this blog will attain, if it will get anywhere at all.