Do you know what I titled my journal of all the goings on of my holiday?? "The Journey to Gosh-I-Wish-I-Never-Came." I have to say at this point though, that it wasn't that bad in all honesty. I learnt a lot about myself and my family. I saw Nigeria through fresh eyes like I seem to do every time I come back. I got a lot of helpful material for my course. I got to hang out with my nieces who are the most mischievous little monkeys ever. And some days (shock-horror!!) I wake up and I miss it a little.
PS
The pictures are here not only because I spent a lot of my time in the kitchen but also because I have always found the mixture of urban and rural in Nigerian kitchens very amusing.
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| Mother's Kitchen. |
I told my mother I don’t plan to stay in Nigeria today. Like
all things in my family, it came indirectly.
“Even if you don’t plan to live in Nigeria you should keep
your culture.” She dropped it into the middle of her rant like she had seen it
on my face when I arrived.
“I don’t plan to live in Nigeria,” I had replied. Then I
repeated it a few more times for good measure, so she would totally understand
what the future would hold.
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| L-R. A broom for sweeping; a small mortar and pestle for herbs, seeds etc; a big mortar and pestle for pounding yams |
Why were we arguing?? Onions and pounded yam. I didn’t put
enough onions in the Akara (bean cake?) mixture which in her mind meant I didn’t know how to
cook and I had no interest in cooking any Nigerian food, which obviously meant
I didn’t want to get married because even a white man would be interested in my
culture.
And of course I needed to learn how to pound yams not because I would
ever use that skill but because I need to learn my tradition. Needless to say I was fuming at the fact that she
insinuated, more than once and not in the least subtly, that I did not know my
way around the kitchen. I am less upset about the whole ordeal right now but
urgh did it irk me in the moment!!
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| A stove and a jar of kerosene: because having a gas and electric cooker doesn't mean you cant start a fire once in a while. |
Right now I don’t wanna stay in this country but I don’t
know the future and I keep an open mind. All my plans, as vague as they often
are, point me far away from this country. But God’s will be done. I might end
up back here for one reason or the other, though right now I sincerely hope not.
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| The store where she keeps most of her food |
So I finally got round to reading this *does a dance*
ReplyDeleteI'm kind of lol-ing and feeling sorry for you for the argument between you and your mother. Lol-ing because it's kind of silly but at the same time upsetting. I think it's something a lot of immigrants ('s children) can relate to. On one hand, you will always be your ethnicity, but you've been in a different culture for so long, our mother culture can seem unrelatable. (Is that a word? haha) Not to mention the different values that different cultures have! i.e. We need to get married as soon as possible because this is one of the most important things a girl can do. Besides becoming a baby machine, of course. I mean, what else can we do with our life. ¬_¬"
Anyway, on an entirely separate but relevant note; I miss you =(
China I looooooooove that you get where I'm coming from with this!! It's not like I hate my culture or my country it's just that I have always hated being force fed. Just because I don't breathe Nigeria doesn't mean I don't love her and I'd like to think my absence for whatever reason doesn't make me less of her daughter. But the idea that my life needs to revolve around every aspect of her and that my future marriage depends entirely on what I know of her is kinda ludicrous to me. I honestly don't think it is that serious especially when we're talking about situations whereby things can be simplified and you're making it harder purely because you can...
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