Diary entries exploring migration, culture shock, belonging, identity, distance, and the realities of building a life away from home.
I have been rehearsing this evening in my head for weeks, not because I’m shy, well…maybe a little. But mostly because I genuinely wanted this to mean something. I’ve been in America for a few months now. Long enough to know which supermarket has the cheapest eggs, long enough to stop converting every dollar to […]
I have been thinking about houses lately, not because I suddenly have billions of naira to spend (unfortunately). No.I have been thinking about houses because of something I read about South Africa. In the middle of all the protests, the anti-immigrant sentiments, and the fear, there were reports of Nigerians and other African immigrants abandoning
There are marches.There are threats.There are people being told to leave. There are reports of businesses shutting down, people fleeing, and fears that violence could erupt against foreign nationals. Human rights groups and aid organizations have warned that both documented and undocumented migrants have been caught in the anxiety and displacement surrounding the protests. Now,
I don’t think anybody has ever overthought a train journey the way I am currently overthinking this one. I’m sitting by the window pretending to enjoy the scenery, I am not enjoying anything. In fact, if anxiety had a physical form, it would be sitting right beside me, asking if I packed my passport.I check
There are three things I see every day. Passports.Hope.And desperation.Not necessarily in that order. I work at a visa application centre in Ikeja. Officially, I process documents. Unofficially, I watch dreams queue up before sunrise. Every morning, before we even open the doors, there are already people waiting outside.Students.Business owners.Families.Newlyweds.Retirees.Young professionals.People who have sold land.People