The Naija Diaries: Home Sweet Home
It’s so good to be Home
As is often the case, morning came, jostling me awake by the violent sweat beads running down my face and creating rivers down the center of my back. The poor fan tried its best but was no match for the wickedness of NEPA (the National Electrical Power Authority). We’re in Lagos, it’s Saturday, and we’re going to church, because… of course we are.
My mom/ parents have been following the Zion Prayer Movement Outreach (ZPMO) group for a while. It’s run by Chukwuebuka Anozie Obi who’s become a bit of a celebrity pastor because of, what I’ll call, his “Prophetic Gifts.” He is still a practicing Catholic but runs ZPMO non-denominationally. In Nigeria, most all Houses of Worship require women to cover their hair (veil) and ban pants unless under a skirt/dress. Very traditionalist culture. I guess my parents think I’m a harlot, so before we went anywhere near that place we went shopping for a proper, “Nigerian church”, appropriate dress. Hilarious. I’ll take the new fit though, as long as I got to choose in the end, I didn’t mind shopping. As we walked to the market, we passed a KFC Gas Station… not a typo. I wish I got a picture but I didn’t want to be too touristy.
I was able to buy 2 dresses. Nigeria is a haggle society. Theres an art to it. We haggled the first dress from 35,000 ($24.49) to 25,000 ($17.49) naira and the second from 28,000($19.59) to 24,000 ($16.79) - reminder to never pay full price for anything in Nigeria unless it’s an established restaurant. You can see by the prices that economic instability has caused an inane amount of inflation over the years and its only gotten worse but to be real, when it comes to the conversion, it’s very affordable for an American. We’re constantly toeing the line between acknowledging the country’s cost of living and the privilege to be able to afford many things that could be considered luxury.
It’s always so funny that people want gifts from america when the styles and fabric quality is MUCH better even in Nigeria’s most back locale shops. It’s all for that “American allure” but you don’t know what you don’t know.
When we arrived to the worship grounds, I was blown away at how many people were there - some even seem to camp out all day and night just to hear this man speak. This could be a whole blog in and of itself about the difference between coming to a place for worship of God or for man… anyway… I believe the movement has brought a lot of people to spiritual encounters and faith but I digress. I received what I needed to from his preaching, I’m glad I went.
The next morning we were off to our official home: Anambra State in the east. We flew with AirPeace Airlines to Chinua Echebe National Airport. Our family and friends embraced us and we were off to the one of the main reasons we were here. Our new house.
Domestication
Four bedroom upper floor with two self-sustained two bedroom lower flats. It’s a beautiful home. After a blessing of the home, joining in a Mass Service and settling in, the real trip can begin. And right away, I feel them trying to domesticate me.
I don’t know how they did it, maybe it’s being so close to all these children under 6 but I feel my insides mangling and doing the mental gymnastics to counter the truth. I’m nurturing like a girrrrl ewwww. They have me eager to actually sweep and cook and care (*holds back vomit). This feels like a cry for help. IT’S LITERALLY BEEN 24hrs, WTH?!
When I said transformation and growth I didn’t expect this. It’s almost hilarious how quickly you can note a change in yourself when you’re paying attention.
Throughout the week, as we tend to the chickens, help put with new dishes and help with the house chores, I searched for a different persepective:
I don’t know where my aversion for traditionalist gender comes from. Maybe it’s hyperfemininism, or just only child syndrome but the idea of being a woman that stays all day in the kitchen usually repulses me… but here I am. In the kitchen for a majority of the day. Wtf, I wonder to myself, ”Who am I becoming?
A friend asked once “how do you think you’d be different if you were raised in Nigeria?” I can confidently say this would be one of the huge differences, it’s said that someone is of the age to “i je’ozi” - to do chores asked of them. It’s particularly gendered even tho it’s not exclusively feminine per say. A part of me thinks part of the issue is that I didn’t feel “welcomed” in the kitchen...
Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to learn my cultural dishes but I used to be kicked out of the kitchen if I didn’t prepare something the way my mom wanted. I developed an aversion for cooking and domestic work. It really only comes out of me when I’m in a place I cherish, like when I had my own apartment in college or even here in this new house. I wish my mom had more patience of the learning curve because now I see that it kind of left an effect on me.
I don’t have to aspire to be a house wife though and I often think in extremes. As someone who cherishes her culture and wanted to continue to speak it, live it, and pass it on, being able to cook Igbo-Nigerian dishes is a huge part of the journey. I just have to change my mindset from “eww house wife duties” to “I have to preserve the culture.”
Maybe there’s one or two things you’re looking at with an aversion that is only holding you back. What would be the harm to look at it another way? Is that the one thing holding you back? Either way, I’m trying to adopt a different persective.
Naija Diaries 2
