Coming to America

“American baby, nwa obodo oyibo” aunty Ogo would say jokingly to make me smile. Little did I actually know how truthful that statement would become.

Growing up, I was slender, sheepish, fragile and reluctant to be in spaces with children my age. Though this was never the case when I was around my cousins; they felt like my siblings as I spent much of my early childhood in Nigeria living with them. My mum would visit on weekends and leave again for work Monday morning. This was normal and I never questioned it.

One day, I asked her if I could come live with her and she willingly agreed. Despite not living together for about 2-3 years, moving back with her never felt unnatural.

After 6 years of being a widow, my mum meets a man from the US who would become her husband. She introduced him to me and at most we exchanged greetings over the phone. However, It wasn't until after our first encounter that she asked what I thought of him as my dad.

Soon they began planning a wedding, which during it my fathers' side of the family wanted me back. I was withdrawn from school to minimize any contact I might have with them and I was not to talk to anyone outside of the family members I know. Then, my juvenile mind could not conceptualize what danger my family was trying to shield me from. Despite the worries, all the marital events ran smoothly and we departed the country shortly after.

As we waited to board our fight, I found delight in the airport chaos as well as the amenities and services provided. I remember watching Alvin and the Chipmunks only to be interrupted by the sight of the catering trolley with the assortment of foods and beverages. I enjoyed the foods I ordered and watched multiple other movies that caught my attention for the remainder of the flight.

Upon arrival, my stepfathers' brother picked us up from JFK International Airport and we headed to his home in Queens where I was greeted later that morning with the eyes of my step-cousins on me and an unfamiliar pleasant aroma. After breakfast we said our goodbyes and departed on another two and a half hour journey to Delaware.

A month passed and I was still spending my days at home because due to my age and background, my intelligence was underestimated by the school officials. They initially refused to place me in grade 4 for these reasons and because it was almost the end of the school year. When I left, I was only halfway through Primary 4 (grade 4). This was one of many culture shocks.

Although Nigeria is a heterogeneous nation with many ethnoreligious cultures , it is homogeneous in terms of race--which was a new concept for me as well. My first day at school, I saw students with varying facial phenotypic attributes. I was met with another culture shock.

I was faced with many new challenges and adversities; one of the more memorable being gym class where the kids destroyed me in all the games. I couldn't ask my parents for advice because they did not grow up in this environment and therefore could not direct me on how to handle these situations. As a result, I learned to do things on my own without waiting for someone’s guidance.

The point is that I never expected to be leaving my home behind to immigrate to the US. Despite the jokes my aunt made, my worldview was miniscule, so how could I have ever imagined something so vast. In this way life can be unpredictable. However, regardless of the obscurity of life and the hardships, it gave me the ability to grow in intangible ways. I'm certain, many have been in a slightly similar situation and had to adapt and learn from it to mature.