Home

Home. It has become somewhat of an abstract notion to me over the years. I suppose that’s what happens when you move around so much. It means something different to me every time I talk about it. I mean I’ve barely been in Dubai a whole year and there are aspects of it that have come to feel like ‘home’.

Sometimes Nigeria is home, after all I was born there and I did live there for 13 of my 20 years. Other times it’s the UK. I stayed there for close to 7 years, I went to high school there, I experienced life there. I did things I can’t even begin to outline there. Not only did I grow up there, I grew smart. Then there’s Dubai. You know that thing people always say about you meeting lifelong friends at university? I’m finally getting to experience that here. I suppose that’s what makes Dubai so ‘homely’ for me right now. So for as long as that feeling lasts-or rather for as long as it outweighs my need to run somewhere else for cover-this place will be home.

I think the “problem” with me is that I am a Nomad. Long before leaving Britain, I was itching for new scenery. I thought moving from England to Wales would scratch that itch but it didn’t. I’m not a home-body, so to speak. I enjoy moving around, not too much, just enough to be mystified often, to be constantly rediscovering, to have a new opinion about myself, people and the world. I think that’s why I want to be a journalist.

The dream would be going from place to place, covering story after exciting story. The irony is I know that dream isn’t going to last forever. I’m going to get tired or old or boring (or all at the same time!) and when that inevitable day finally arrives what will I do? Will I just curl up in whatever corner of the world I find myself in and die a peaceful death? And if I do decide to go ‘home’ for the final chapter of my life where will home be? And if I do, by some unforeseen miracle, end up having a little nuclear family attached to me, what are they gonna be doing while I’m off playing free spirit and traipsing around the world? And this is all working under the assumption that the dream will become a reality…As always I am CLEARLY over-thinking everything. What will be will be, regardless.

On a lighter note, I got my results from first year and needless to say I wasn’t immediately satisfied. But in the grand scheme of things I did pretty well and I give God all the glory. Second year hear we come!

This is our Africa.

This is us. This is our Africa. This is the way we live, often not out of choice; we make do. This is where we wake up to pure joy and the beautiful sun glistening on our ebony skins. This is where we take casual walks in torrential rain without discomfort or fear. Our growth is stunted by your greed. But we are who we are; born fighters. It is going to take much more than your lies, deceit and exploitation to quench the flame that burns in our souls and shines in our eyes. The world will not remain silent to our cries forever, and even if it will, we will not. This is who we are. This is us. This is our Africa.

I will not pretend that my people were peaceful before yours came. Like much of the human race often is, we were at war with each other. I might even go as far as commending you for giving us a reason to be united. But even with our meagre wars before your arrival, we were better off. We had a system that worked, granted it would not have worked forever, but I assume we would have found a way to cross that bridge when we inevitably arrived at it. We shall never know for sure now. Your people came with talks of peace and unity but instead they brought with them war and division. They came to us preaching about giving when in reality they were all about taking. They came with talks of advancement when they were experts on recession. They took, they drained but worst of all they never left, not really. All things considered I think my people and I have acted fairly civilly towards you and your people, whether you deserve it or not. Often times when we react to the many ways you have and continue to taunt us, you deem our reactions childish. Our apologies for being the oppressed, sincerely. Yet we have one final request, if you would not mind terribly. I ask, like Moses did to the Egyptians, that you do us one insignificant favour: let my people go. I call it insignificant because we could ask for much more, but we will not. We will be independent, like we have been trying to be for years now, if only you’ll let us go. Call off the dogs, put down the weapons, yell retreat and surrender the motherland back to us. We are asking nicely. There is a revolution upon us.