The sweet potatoes are red, and there’s no Fresh Yo
Seeking greener pastures, a tale as old as time
I’m a loner by nature. I thrive off silence and can go a week without proper interaction. Going outside is a chore, and making new friends drains me. Even with all these indications of enjoying solitude, leaving home to a city where I knew a total of one person almost made me run mad. The banana takes forever to get ripe, the sweet potatoes are red, and there’s no Fresh Yo. These might seem trivial, but it adds up. One day you’re a little bit mad about not finding a good barber, and the next, your friend is celebrating a milestone, and all you can do is send congratulations.
It’s 3 pm in November; the sun has said its’ goodbyes, and the moon is out to play. You’re 7 hours away from home if you’re rich enough to afford a straight flight. If you fall on the other side of the coin, you’re at least 20 hours away from the family you’ve known all your life. The weather is cold; even when it’s warm, it’s cold. The loneliness soon creeps in, and the yearning for familiar faces makes you appreciate people who have overcome addictions. It eats you whole. Note, if you live this life, you cannot complain. People would say, the gods have smiled on you, be grateful.
There are so many versions of what the Nigerian dream is. Some people would tell you it’s to love Nigeria from a distance. To put the National flag on your bio while you distance yourself from the day-to-day struggle of those living in its chaos. Others would tell you the dream is to earn in foreign currency and insulate yourself from the troubles that lurk. I write for the former. While the possibilities are endless when you travel, people often omit the mental toll it can have on you. After all, you’re abroad and “chopping life.”
My flatmate and I joke a lot about moving back home if push comes to shove. But I’d admit this comes from a place of privilege. I do not come from money, but I know an entire generation of family members do not look up to me for food. People travel and cannot go back home on a whim because to leave is to die a little inside. There is nothing to go back to. Your family back home depend on you for survival. So you sacrifice your body and soul to put a smile on their faces.
I wouldn’t lie and paint a picture of doom and gloom. Moving solves a lot of problems, especially monetary ones. It opens career paths for a lot of people. Travelling will always be an exquisite experience; I just wish, for many Nigerians, it wasn’t so final. I want people to say, “Look, this isn’t working out for me. It’s more than I can handle, and I want to go home,” without feeling like they are letting the world down. There is a place for fortitude and perseverance, and then there is suffering. I don’t want us to suffer.
Reading this made me smile and it felt like Adiche Chiamanda right there.
That last part. So important.
Some people are suffering but shame and expectation won't let them return