The 10 Commandments for a Nigerian Abroad
Without looking for it, once again, Nigeria had reached out to me when I needed it the most.
This article was inspired by the goodness of one Nigerian to another, and is written with the intent of encouraging more of that same camaraderie, support, and willingness to uplift.
Thank you to Mr. Chidi Afulezi and the digital magazine, The Akoma Hot Mix.
The 10 Commandments of a Nigerian Abroad:
- Thou Shalt Leave With a Plan
- Thou Shalt Not Waste an Opportunity
- Thou Shalt Consistently Overcome
- Thou Shalt Stay True to the Green, White, Green
- Thou Shalt Represent
- Thou Shalt Connect With Other Nigerians
- Thou shalt be Open Minded and Inclusive
- Thou Shalt Keep an Eye on Home
- Thou Shalt be Honest About His Experience
- Thou Shalt Give Back
We all want a better life but we also owe one to those that can’t leave theirs. If you ever get the chance to venture out, leave with Nigeria forever in your heart.
1. Thou Shalt Leave With a Plan
Success abroad is not easy, but a plan makes it possible.
I have spoken to so many Nigerians who just want to appear anywhere overseas. To them, the answer to all of life’s hardest problems is being out of Africa. Nothing more.
My neighbor, Sunday, said to me in 2008, during my last visit to Nigeria, “if I fit get lottery, or scholarship. I know say I go find my way. Nothing dey here.” He ended in proper English, “If I can just get out. Everything will change.” He was asking for help more than he was stating a fact.
He eventually ended up in India and is stuck, his life worse than it ever was. Though to family and friends, he feels a pressure of pretending his prayers were thoroughly answered.
Do not leave Nigeria without a plan. Set your objectives, make them clear, and see the required path. Only leave when you have an aim you must achieve, along with the clarity on the many steps needed to reach your goal.
Leaving Nigeria is not a fairytale. For example, as an African in Russia, I assure you that a belief in your plan will be what guides you through most days. Even family won’t be enough sometimes.
A lot of us want to leave, make something out of ourselves. But many never consider that they may be leaving for worse circumstances. The same life you tried to run away from could be waiting for you abroad, if you have no concrete plan.
I met a homeless Nigerian Engineer in the Basque country, Spain. He told me his story. He heard the North of Spain was good for the type of work he studied. He arrived but couldn’t find a job.
I met him panhandling in front of a supermarket, with a sign around his neck that read, “por favor, ayudame.” I don’t think I have ever seen anyone be more ashamed to collect a Euro from someone trying to help. His eyes welled up as he spoke about his family. He expected a miracle and didn’t have a plan.
As an immigrant with no predetermined targets, you have no idea how very close you are to adopting his fate.
Some Nigerians abroad end up relying on illegal schemes in order to keep up with the perception they have created for themselves back home. Most don’t mind the honest shift of being a security guard in London or a Janitor in Prague, but make sure the things that happen to you are a part of your plan.
There are so many cruel surprises that await you aboard but a plan will keep you afloat. Always begin with a plan and a readiness to make all the details happen. Be on a constant look out for every possible opportunity.
2. Thou Shalt Not Waste an Opportunity
In every opportunity that comes to you, give your absolute best, it is the Nigerian way abroad.
We are the doctors, the engineers, the scientist, valedictorians, accountants, etc. Know that you are continuing a lineage of excellence abroad. All those things you could not do back home, you have no more excuses.
Be great. Leaving home is not a call for rest.
You travel to work harder than you have ever done before because finally outside of Nigeria there are direct rewards.
When I was in Nigeria, attending Grace High school, at the end of every term I was called up to the podium to shake hands with the headmistress. That is all you got for the highest score on an exam. I was really only outperforming classmates because teachers at Grace High School snatched at every chance of a whipping. I despised beatings. Since I hated the cane, I did well in school. Simple. No other motivation for me.
But in America, I did well and found true encouragement to do more.
I was invited to compete in contests, represent my school. I collected medals for doing my homework and a guidance counselor told me I didn’t have to worry about my future, it was laid out in front of me.
I did well in sports too, collected trophies for fighting in Judo tournaments. Plus, no one had any idea how terrible I was in soccer, because they were all worse than me. Finally. Heaven. I dribbled around little basketball players and felt like the next Maradona. Everything I ever wanted, I could have.
In Nigeria, my dream High School, Atlantic Hall, would have bankrupted my parents. In the United States, I attended my dream high school because I was smart enough. You do things well outside of Nigeria and doors open up. Take advantage of all of them.
But don’t be me. I got cocky and stopped trying. Remember you are Nigerian and you do not stop until the entire world is in the palm of your hands. I will always repeat it: that yearning to become great pulsates from our hearts into our achievements. I do not know why this is so, it just is.
Do not become complacent just because the plane lands and the pilot says, “welcome to New York City.”
Get off that plane, go through customs, and leave your mark on every opportunity so there will be no doubt that a Nigerian was there, and the Nigerian left no stone unturned. With this attitude you will consistently overcome.
3. Thou Shalt Consistently Overcome
“Oh boy, wen you dey yankee, you fit pack me sand for glass? Make you send am here. Me too I mus mash am abi?!
Those were the sort of jokes my close friends would make when I told them I was coming to live in the United States. They wanted me to send over dirt from New york so they too could say they have stepped foot on American soil. The country is magic to many people.
And sure, the U.S can be sold as an empire of miracles but you ought to prepare for the other side of the story. The journey will not be easy, and I do not blame you for assuming that it would be.
We don’t have honest enough conversations in Nigeria about what life is like outside of it. Most of us want the admiration for living abroad, we forego the stories of all the hardships.
We ought to return home with a focus on making Nigeria better so no one else need be shocked by racism, discrimination, humiliation, insecurities, confusions and everything else waiting on the other side of our dream abroad.
Until we make the sufficient paradigm shift back home, you must overcome, by any means necessary.
Whatever your motivation is for leaving home, hold on to it. Never forget why it was so important for you to start a brand new life away from everything you know and love.
The trials and tribulations have a silver lining but you will need the unrelenting enthusiasm that Nigeria has gifted you with. The resilience in your DNA, rely on it, stay true.
4. Stay true to the Green, White, Green
I remember hosting a friend in my home in Gbagada, Lagos. I was about nine at the time. This kid was a prick, made me cry because I didn’t have a gameboy color.
I hadn’t been to the United States yet but Ibrahim made it obvious that his life was much better than mine in Africa. Still he was a normal Nigerian preadolescent, looked and sounded very run-of-the-mill African privilege.
However, when I finally arrived in New York and saw Ibrahim again, his pants were sagged below his waist, his speech pattern had changed, more ebonics, his demeanor was far more urbanized and he seemed angrier, in a performance sort of way. He was ten years old.
I wasn’t confused. I was bullied in Brooklyn for being the new African kid in a 6th grade class. I was still wearing my polished brown sandals with shorts and high stockings to a classroom of durags.
I deserved all the abuse of middle school because as kids we immediately understand that following trends is a part of survival. It made sense that Ibrahim had adopted an entirely new way of being to get along with his surroundings. But Nigerians always have to be Nigerians first. Though to ensure I would never be picked on again, I changed for the worst in High school.
I am glad to say we somehow always get back to our truth as we get older. That sense of belonging to a culture is incredibly invaluable. So, never forget where you come from.
After travelling throughout Europe and studying the different ways individuals regard themselves, I hypothesize that a major deficit in the black American identity is having no true traceable culture that connects and reaffirms. Without a culture that is a reflection of self, a black man in the United States is an empty plastic bag tossed by whims of a wicked wind. As Nigerians, we have such an integral culture. Hold on to it.
I spoke to my father last week, and he told me about two Nigerians, a few years younger than me. They were gunned down in a drug related incident in Florida. My father couldn’t understand it, he knew the parents of the deceased. My father knew they graduated from college. But my father couldn’t understand how a Nigerian could make it to the United States only to throw away all the hard work that got him out.
People are always going to be people. Some of us will make mistakes that are more costly than others. It is important that we do not waste our great opportunity, remember all those who would do anything to be in your shoes. Make the choices that will make them proud.
And as much as I resent, from time to time, that I never got to enjoy that Huxtable sort of family relationship with my parents, I am glad they did not let me stray too far. It is so easy to become something else when you are far away from home. Some of us get desperate.
I see it in the adults too. They make some money overseas and can’t wait to buy things that prove they are no longer poor.
The extravagance isn’t what makes it beautiful to be Nigerian, it is that commitment to our qualities. We respect our elders. We work hard. We raise our children as a community. We know real struggle and respect it. We never give up. We make a whole bunch of movies, and some of them are pretty good. Our happiness despite all is proof of our grit. We are resource rich nation and we are capable of much more than we show. Stay true, our time is coming.
No matter what and no matter where you go, you are Nigerian first. Never forget it. Represent it.
5. Thou Shalt Represent
Staying true to our Nigerian heritage is one thing, being an advocate for our people is a different animal. One entails reflexes and reactions stemming from internalized behavior, the other requires a voice and purposeful action.
Nigeria is not a country of have-nothings. We are a country of should-have-everythings. Don’t forget that. Don’t lose that confident and defiant chip on your shoulder. You are no less than anyone around you, wherever you go.
When I first arrived in New York, classmates asked me if I had ever written on paper. They asked if I learned all my English in the two weeks since my arrival, they expected me to click my tongue for some reason. They wanted to know if I rode animals to get from place to place in Lagos. They didn’t think cars existed in Africa. Kids.
Teachers were shy, but they too knew very little about the place I had come from. One of them asked, “And I presume things are pretty advanced in Nigeria?” Except it was very obvious from her tone, she knew just as much about Nigeria as her students.
Represent with pride. That’s what I started doing. Eventually.
I have had a turbulent relationship with my identity over the years, but nothing is ever quite as satisfactory as standing up for all that is right about my country. And I can feel it, this swell of prideful Nigerians registering incredible accomplishments all over the world. It has never been easier to represent our people in the way that has been earned.
But it is not enough to act and sound the part. We must reach out in order to support each other.
6. Connect With Other Nigerians
I want to be able to walk into a Nigerian Store in Brooklyn New York, recommended by a Nigerian friend, where I can meet other Nigerians while shopping for great Nigerian products that the world is interested in. I want every customer to trust that they spend their money with a people of honest, hard work. But this will only happen with our commitment to unity.
While I attended University, I was the black guy that mostly hung out with Europeans, Australians and Asians on their exchange program.
These groups of people were delighted to speak to me and I very much enjoyed the attention, being their gateway to American life. “Yea! America is different. A lot of people hang out at malls,” I would say to a foreign friend that was looking for a way to kill a few hours.
Being Nigerian, for most of my life, was not at the very top of my agenda. Though I had the flag on my social media profile pictures, I was more interested in the credit of Nigerian pride than the practice of it.
As I saw it, there were typically three types of Nigerians. Those that chose to blend in with the lowest common denominator, rebelling against the strictness of their parents; those who sort of just did what they were expected to do, on their way towards securing a fancy internship; and those that walked around campus with a bluetooth receiver in their ear. They usually carried a suitcase and I thought they were taken things a little too far. I couldn’t see myself getting along with any of these three groups.
I didn’t see the pockets of Nigerians forming on campus as an attempt to reconnect with our roots. I was Mr.Social to everyone but Nigerians. It was all an insecurity. I had no idea how to relate to my own people. I thought I had more in common with Europeans.
But then I graduated and a few months later, I finally spoke to Eric.
In school, we were typically at the same parties and events, I saw him all the time. Eric was one of those people that never smiled, always acting tough. I thought he was a bully. I clumped him into the group of Nigerians that tried to blend in with the lowest common denominator.
I used to say, “what is that guy’s deal? Why is he so miserable?”
But we were no longer in school and I had my first conversation with Eric after knowing of him for four years.
It was as if I was talking to a twin. I didn’t have to try to relate. I just did. He was just like me. Every single thing I had been going through since my arrival in the United States, he was going through as well. Our only separations were the different choices we made in order to cope with the same stresses.
He too was struggling with becoming an adult while living with strict parents. He too was frustrated that his life goals did not include medicine or engineering, though he did not want to disappoint his family. He too had a misplaced sense of self that he was juggling between a life portrayed to his family and that which felt natural to him. He too couldn’t stand flashy Nigerians who throw money around because the both of us came from identical poverty, working our way up the american system of scholarships and student loans.
I told him, that I used to think he was a jerk, a bully. To which he responded, “yea? I used to think you thought you were better than everyone, that no one could talk to you.”
We laughed at each other, our misguided prejudices and talked about what could have been. We came up with theories about the possible tensions that others like us subconsciously manage. We were a therapeutic session, explaining a life that only Nigerians could thoroughly relate too.
For the first time, to anyone in the United States, I was speaking pidgin English. It was just Eric, I and our conversation. No one around us could understand the language in which we spoke or the sentiment that carried our words. And I regretted that I had not done more to connect with other Nigerians.
All those pains you feel, being so far away from home. You are not alone. Reach out and let one of us help. That emptiness you feel in knowing that your family raised you as a Nigerian, though you have never stepped foot in the country. A friend of mine, Az, feels that same void and has signed up for Igbo speaking courses in order to engage other Nigerians in Washington D.C. And that responsibility you feel, the blessings you want to share with those at home. They will be multiplied if you work with others that share your vision. No one can know you better than your own. Let us connect, pulling each other upwards.
Let us trust in our unity while also being open to mixing with other cultures.
7. Thou Shalt Be Open Minded
Let us share our rich culture with others, mix with the world outside, bringing stronger values to a home that greatly needs reshaping.
As much as I advocate for unity within Africans and Nigerians, I by no means intend on distracting from our need to soak up other cultures. With intent and curiosity.
Of all elements important to the strengthening of the Nigerian abroad, diffusion is oft placed aside. I find us sticking to cliques and social groups that embody everything we left behind. We tend to drift to places recommended to us by people who only think like us. It explains the concentration of Nigerians in Southside Jamaica, Queens.
It is natural for people to seek comfort in familiarity but life exists at the border of our comfort zone, we must expand our horizons.
Be ready to mix.
My parents believe that their narrow, patriarchal perspective of life contains all the hard answers. Who can blame them? They made it from absolutely nothing with their philosophy. But we need to open our hearts.
A friend of mine just returned from a wedding in Ontario, Canada. The ceremony celebrated the union of an Igbo man to his wife of a mostly caucasian descent. What Azubike described to me was incredible. He watched caucasians dancing merrily to authentic Nigerian music, some whites participated in showering the bride and groom with money as they grooved in the middle of the dance floor. No. I promise you it is not a stripper thing. It is just how we get down.
People that look and act nothing like us, for a moment, were eating our food and laughing at our stories. And that is the beautiful future I see for Nigerians, mixing and sharing our culture all over the world.
Unfortunately as it stands right now, many of us are ultra traditional, especially the first generation migrants. We sort of assume our customs are best. I have been to countless Nigeria parties with jollof rice, suya, fish in red pepper and no signs of an individuals from the place we now live.
We ought to celebrate our pride in self without unintentionally excluding others.
For example, I am mentally prepared for an awkward year with my family after marrying Kristina, my Spanish girlfriend. My parents want a wife that irons, cleans and makes me Eba with Efo. To them, I can only marry a Nigerian. And I don’t get it.
It is not just my parents that have an issue with who I marry, their friends too. They all come over to the house for a drink and before they leave, someone wags a finger at me warning me to find a Nigerian woman.
I find it strange how many Nigerians can sacrifice everything for a ticket abroad, only to complain about everything they find overseas. I am more likely to hear a Nigerian parent say, “they don’t train their children over here. Look how that one is talking! Chai! He is giving it to his father with the left hand.” When I should be hearing, “it would be nice if we did things like this in Nigeria too.”
We tend to lean towards being more critical of our hosts than we are inclusive. And that is a shame. That church in Jamaica Queens, with an all Nigerian congregation and a Nigerian pastor should do more to involve Non-Nigerians. Such efforts are essential to travel and assimilation.
We must seek and acquire new values, allowing them to enrich us. Because in picking up tidbits from here and there, we can collect the building blocks necessary for improving home.
8. Thou Shalt Keep an Eye on Home
Wherever we go, we must do our best as individuals, give back to the communities that enrich us, while keeping an eye on home.
As we stand across shores outside of Nigeria, are we only to focus on accomplishing for ourselves and family? Have you made it and thought, let the rest fend for themselves. Nigeria is our responsibility and we are to blame for what people think of it today.
I know of a sixty year old Jamaican black man who, in his youth, changed his name from Jimmy to something of a more bona fide heritage. Not unlike Muhammad Ali when the champion boxer made the psychological shift from a legacy of suppression to one of fight and solidarity, Jimmy remade his identity by becoming Adeyemi.
Jimmy did not choose a name of glitz and glamor. Adeyemi is earthy and distinct, a Nigerian name of the Yoruba language. It roughly translate to, worthy of the crown. Jimmy, in his mid-twenties, chose a name that his forefathers may well have have given him, if it were not for slavery. I imagine the pride that Adeyemi must have felt in making the switch, but he had never visited Nigeria.
Nearing his sixties, after decades, Adeyemi decided to visit the country from where he had chosen a name. If the United States had taught black men to be submissive, Adeyemi was delighted to see his people in their natural element, the world behind the propaganda of a television screen.
Upon arrival from his trip, the man formerly known as Jimmy said with unshakable conviction, “there are two things I don’t trust in this world, taxi drivers and NIGERIANS!”
About a place he so desperately wanted to call home, he says, “I did not meet anybody that did not want to exchange the smallest favor for money. No act of kindness. I learnt a new word over there, everybody says `dash me.´” (Dash me- Let me have some money, usually said in an unabashed tone)
I laughed upon hearing this story, because as a Nigerian, I knew exactly what Jimmy/Adeyemi must have gone through. I imagined the jubilation on the plane ride over. Adeyemi’s anticipation of all those revelations that would validate his new name. I thought, comically, of Adeyemi’s imaginary fist in the air, black power, I am going home. Then I heard the screeches of tires skidding across hot asphalt at an African airport. He’d arrive.
He didn’t come to inspire as a missionary, he came to be inspired. And If I ask my countrymen how highly the average Nigerian would rank integrity as a part of day to day considerations, an honest analysis would reveal some areas we need to fix in our culture. What have we done to change any of it?
I thought of Jimmy’s first traffic stop in the disorganized streets of Lagos, how a no problem situation would eventually be resolved by a small bribe. Bribes would have become ordinary to him by day three.
I saw, in my mind, the flocks of street hawkers that would swarm his car at every pause of long traffic. I knew that he would first pity them then be annoyed by them.
I saw all the puddles he would have to skip over, in places where there should be sidewalks. I saw the potholes that would rock his vehicle on his way to exploring. I saw that first squint and amazement when his ceiling fan slowed to a halt because the power went out. I hope Adeyemi paid for a nice hotel.
I felt it, Adeyemi’s willingness to dismiss the first few negative indications. The chaos of busy daytime, the smog that goes unchecked, the people that deserve better, the polluted market places, and all those locals ready to take advantage of him. Adeyemi would make excuses for all these things, holding on to the reason he changed his name.
Jimmy would question every inconvenience and begin the countdown till departure. I almost immediately knew all the things that would frustrate Adeyemi in Lagos. I laughed thinking about that final straw that would break the camel’s back, when Jimmy would slam his fist on a defenseless coffee table in a hotel room, “Should have picked a name from a different country!”
As I see it, Mr. Adeyemi went in search of home. And since the rest of us had not done enough to take care of it for him, Mr. Adeyemi left with very little to be proud of.
You don’t need to have an actionable plan right now but your mind should be on it. I am yet to find my great Nigerian cause but I am aiming for it. If every one of us commits to being a positive influence back home, then there’d be more Adeyemi’s who never have to wonder if it is better to have remained Jimmy.
Be on the lookout for things we can do to make Nigeria a better country. And when you return home, tell the truth.
9. Thou Shalt be Honest About His Experience
We need to start telling our fellow country men about the many challenges of living abroad. Now that you have experienced it and overcome, spread the truth so people wipe away the rest of the world as this magical kingdom with all the solutions. Maybe then we can stop focusing so intently on a better life outside Nigeria when we can instead make home a better place to live.
The closest thing to honesty said by those Nigerians who make it to the outside is, “man! It is not easy. Ko easy o.”
Too bad more words could not make any less of a much needed emphasis.
My father slept in a basement apartment for months. After being tossed out the homes of many friends.
After years, the only place he could afford was a studio where feces rose next to his bed every time the landlord flushed the toilet upstairs. My dad gives pretty charitably to his friends and family in Nigeria, but none of them know this story, or anything else he had to go through before he could help them.
When you leave Nigeria. You are relieved. You take for granted the comfort of home. But being far away from everything you know and love can be painful, no one talks about that enough.
You notice it’s very difficult to save money, to enjoy all those things that seemed bountiful from the TV. Depending on your age, you may also notice it is not always easy to communicate. It is not automatic that the hiring manager of that company will look past the thickness of your accent. Depending on your background, you may have to develop much tougher skin along with the guile of street smarts.
Nothing is the piece of cake you imagine it to be. It is not raining gold and money abroad.
Though every complaint may sound like paradise compared the harsh realities of nothing at home, we ought to be more honest about the difficulties of living abroad. We need to start telling Nigerians back home about the great opportunities that we have as Africans to catch up with the west, if only we fixed this or that.
We can’t continue selling a story that isn’t real. And if we are willing to tough it out abroad, we ought to replicate that energy towards improving home.
10. Thou Shalt Give Back
I committed to becoming a content creator that inspires about three years ago. I have worked on projects ever since then but only recently found the gumption to start posting the things I come up with, art, photography, articles etc.
Setting out on a dream is scary and it took me almost three years to run out of excuses for why I shouldn’t.
The first short story I posted on Medium was read by Mr. Chidi Afulezi. He did not just check off a green heart underneath the piece, he went as far as to include the story in his digital magazine, The Akoma Hot Mix.
No aspiring writer may express to you the impact of such a gesture, how humbling and encouraging it is. Three years is a long time for thinking you are not good enough. I took a step and there was a comment by Chidi. This is why I said in the beginning, Nigeria reached out to me when I needed it most. We ought to reach back to it.
I hope such displays typify the general attitude amongst Nigerians towards Nigerians and other Africans, that we can always rely on each other once we leave home. We ought to have our hand out. Not just in seeking help but also for pulling up others.
Everything listed above boils down to putting ourselves in a situation where we can give back, through our work, gestures, conversations etc.
The change we want to see is waiting at our fingertips. We travel and notice all those things we ought to fix back home. More importantly some of us stumble on how to solve these problems. At some point we must get to doing something about them.
Everyone keeps talking about the African potential. Well, I am tired of our expectations peaking as potential. That is why I am supporting projects like Chidi’s. He is giving Africa a different voice, and I guess I am looking for the right things to start talking about. We all have our part to play. In one way or another, we must say thank you to the country that gave us a place to begin our journey.
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