I miss Nigeria as a good guy and as a bad man. You never know how sweet Nigeria is until you stay abroad for some years. Then you realise there is no place like home. Yes, life is beautiful, comfortable and predictable abroad, but I want more. As a bad man, I see the beautiful women in the UK, and there is a limit to what I can do. Those Pakistani, Yemeni, Kurdish girls and other South Asians are unbelievably beautiful.
What about the Jamaican ladies, some Somali baddies and others who have dual heritage? Aaaaah! Your jaw would drop if you saw them. Their peak is around the ages of 19-25 before life stress fully kicks in. The UK relationship market is about window-shopping. You will see those ladies, but it is hard to woo any of them. They mostly prefer people in their age group, unlike Nigeria, where girls want to roll with their father's age-mates and their ancestors for financial benefits.
Your skin colour, accent and ethnicity also count in the market. There is a very low demand for Nigerians. Several people in the UK struggle with mental health issues and drug abuse. Stranger Danger is real, and the justice system is strict and firm. Life was different in Nigeria. I remember my Shomolu-Lagos days when I saw a lady in the marketplace walking alone. I told her she was the most gorgeous being in the world.
She tried to be strict and angry, but I didn't back off. I told her I was ready for her to call the police on me. She laughed and gave me her number. After days of claiming she was "not into that kinda stuff", she called me one day and asked for my house address. Sweetest babe ever! Those are some of the perks you enjoy in Nigeria, and they go a long way in boosting your mental health.
So therapeutic. As a good man, I also miss Naija. There is nothing as sweet as living with your kind. I live on a white-dominated street in the UK; in fact, my family are the only Black people on the street. Each time I walk through a particular lonely road, the Oyinbos from the other end, mostly the women, cross to the other side. My wife complains of the same observation. Only a few elderly men and women or those with dogs will share the same path with you.
Some of them might just be scared. The news about coloured people is hardly encouraging in the UK media. I work in a white-dominated office, and my accent is always playing catch-up. I have noticed that my English isn't good enough to explain very complex issues to the Oyinbos. When the challenge is too complicated to explain verbally, I rely on emails. As a family man, I miss Naija.
I wish I could hire domestic staff like a driver and a house-help to help with childcare and school runs. Yes, they are available in the UK, but only the elites could afford them. Childcare is boring. The other day, I was in a Microsoft Teams meeting while my son was off school. I had to bribe him with yoghurt and chocolates to keep him well-behaved. I feel that in Nigeria you can get away with anything.
It is a blessing and a curse. In the UK, any mistake might be costly. Your records might be tainted for life, as background checks are usually carried out by potential employers. It is also too easy to go to jail. One major mistake and you are already on their "prison career path". Imagine if Poco Lee's issue happened in Nigeria. He would not spend 30 minutes at the police station.
Phone calls would be made, and the victim might end up being further traumatised by the police. The highest bidder effect! Maybe I should go back to Naija? I know that will be the popular suggestion of readers, but certainly not under a Tinubu leadership. I will run back to the UK with my tail between my legs in just nine months of my return. Source: https://www.facebook.com/thevillagetowncrier
