Life As A Child of Immigrants – The Untold Stories And Experiences (I) – “Home is where the heart and family are”, said my dad as we signed the final documents that saw us selling off our house which has been in my father’s possession for decades having inherited it from my late grandfather. He would periodically repeat the same thing as if assuring himself that he was doing the right thing. I never wanted to live my neighbourhood; couldn’t say the same for my country though, seeing as things were not improving in any way. My whole life was here in the Eastern part of Nigeria, and I couldn’t just imagine leaving my home somewhere else.
Unlike the image painted of immigrants as people from poor backgrounds looking to get a better life, I wouldn’t say that we fit into this category. Yes, we may be moving to the United Kingdom to seek greener pastures, but we were anything but broke. My dad had a flourishing carpentry business, and my mum worked with the State Government as a senior civil servant. We may not be the Baron De Rothschild, but we certainly made ends meet with additional reserves.
So clearly, we did not fit into the category of people who would normally consider immigrating fully to another country. Whether the reason was that basically, everyone wanted to leave the country for good, or that the country has gotten so bad that the rich and the poor now face similar problems; I just could not figure out why my father would sell all his properties, persuade my mum to quit her job and move us all to the UK. Whatever the reason, I had no say in the decision-making process.
We boarded our flight at the Murtala Mohammed International Airport, Lagos, arriving in the UK within six (6) hours or more. Unlike the thrill I saw on social media about people feeling excited when they finally leave the country, I was more sad than happy. I would not describe myself as a patriot, but my life was back home in Nigeria and I didn’t want to leave that behind… at least not yet.
So, as a child of immigrants, the first feeling of my life in another country was not bliss but sadness. This was clearly not the life I had envisioned. At that point, I was angry, hurt, hungry and tired. My eye came across a huge clock and the time was 9:00 am; “this is certainly going to be a long day” I muttered under my breath.
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