COMING TO LONDON IN 1976
I won a scholarship from Nigeria to come to the UK. I was wearing a bright red suit when I arrived in London, late at night, summer time.
The first place I stayed was the YMCA. That night I went downstairs to Tottenham Court Road and bought a Shish kebab. It tasted ok.
The following day I went to my embassy got some money and moved out into the Nigerian hostel in Queensway for Nigerian students. And in the hostel it was different as they cooked Nigerian dishes. It was like back home. I made lots of friends while staying there. It was in the area that I met my wife to be at the Duck and Drake pub.
The majority of people I saw in the streets of London were white people but there were a few black people. Well it wasn’t a shock that there were so many white people; they are human beings just like me with different complexions. People are people. The smell in the street was different.
I encountered racism here in the UK as a black man. In Nigeria there was nothing like that. In Nigeria I was a black man in a Black Country. Here in London it was a shock to me being abused, discriminated or insulted just because you are a black man.
In Nigeria I wasn’t abused as a black man but as a child growing up I was abused by constant beating by my mother. Maybe she thought I was naughty. There were parents there that did not beat their children and others that did beat them.
There were lots of parties in those days in London. Friends used to come to the house I later moved in to and we had conversations about home (Nigeria). We would be reminiscing about the things we left behind and what they looked like now that we are no longer there. None amongst us gave a thought as to how things will have changed beyond recognition. Some of us thought that things will have improved and that the good bits we knew will still be there.
Unfortunately none of our thinking was true.
After 35 years I went back again to Nigeria. Nothing was as I remembered it. Before I went back, I used to chat with Nigerian friends in London reminiscing about back home, thinking that things would be the same or improved. And the shock was there was no improvement. There was lots and lots of hardship wherevelr you looked. It was difficult to identify anywhere I used to go to, It had changed. It had all just gone and not replaced by anything better.
There was no improvement and the good things we left behind had all but vanished in some cases replaced by something awful or nothing at all.
The first place I stayed was the YMCA. That night I went downstairs to Tottenham Court Road and bought a Shish kebab. It tasted ok.
The following day I went to my embassy got some money and moved out into the Nigerian hostel in Queensway for Nigerian students. And in the hostel it was different as they cooked Nigerian dishes. It was like back home. I made lots of friends while staying there. It was in the area that I met my wife to be at the Duck and Drake pub.
The majority of people I saw in the streets of London were white people but there were a few black people. Well it wasn’t a shock that there were so many white people; they are human beings just like me with different complexions. People are people. The smell in the street was different.
I encountered racism here in the UK as a black man. In Nigeria there was nothing like that. In Nigeria I was a black man in a Black Country. Here in London it was a shock to me being abused, discriminated or insulted just because you are a black man.
In Nigeria I wasn’t abused as a black man but as a child growing up I was abused by constant beating by my mother. Maybe she thought I was naughty. There were parents there that did not beat their children and others that did beat them.
There were lots of parties in those days in London. Friends used to come to the house I later moved in to and we had conversations about home (Nigeria). We would be reminiscing about the things we left behind and what they looked like now that we are no longer there. None amongst us gave a thought as to how things will have changed beyond recognition. Some of us thought that things will have improved and that the good bits we knew will still be there.
Unfortunately none of our thinking was true.
After 35 years I went back again to Nigeria. Nothing was as I remembered it. Before I went back, I used to chat with Nigerian friends in London reminiscing about back home, thinking that things would be the same or improved. And the shock was there was no improvement. There was lots and lots of hardship wherevelr you looked. It was difficult to identify anywhere I used to go to, It had changed. It had all just gone and not replaced by anything better.
There was no improvement and the good things we left behind had all but vanished in some cases replaced by something awful or nothing at all.