CANADA—The week I left Bonny Island, Rivers State, with intention of leaving Nigeria entirely, a friend of mine who was also my boss said, “Shebi you know you may not enjoy this life again. We all know you’re going to do work-work-work. No anyhow enjoyment o!” So, he came up with an idea for us to visit all the joints in Finima, the ones in Bonny Island, and then return to the residential area of the NLNG.
That evening, he stopped in front of my house and I hopped into his SUV. We did what Niger Delta bad and razz boys call fallout. We fell into every small and big joint in town, eating suya and nkwobi, and those unnecessarily expensive catfishes. We drank Heineken and mixed Smirnoff with Guinness stout, and then he remembered he had other drinks at home. We drove to his place and continued. That night, we partied and danced until I remembered I had to go home. Both of us agreed that all that fun would last me for six months at least. What a naïve verdict.
In Winnipeg, Canada, I have found a new way to have fun and still feel fulfilled. It is called Family. Summer beach parties, Prairies camping, visits to the lake, making YouTube videos, barbeques by the front porch and many more activities are how we do it in the diaspora. Family. It hurts initially, but it is one of those things you must learn if you’re out here chasing this dollar. It is a fact that you must learn to think about “we” and not “I”.
In Bonny Island, I could text Nwanyi Owerre asking her to prepare nkwobi and ugba, double portion, and I would drive to her place in 20 minutes and you would find me grinding the spicy meat and veggies and escorting them with a big bottle of odeku. The beauty of it all was that I could send down three bottles with my popular double portion, stand up and drive home without any evidence—and probably not feel a thing leaving my family out of the fun. In Winnipeg, it is ride or die: family is family. Eat alone, die alone.
Family hangouts are not that common in Nigeria. In fact, sometimes it feels like hanging out is designed as a means to stay away from family, so a man only occasionally goes out with wife and kids. For many Nigerian women, getting married virtually seals social life. Overseas, men also hang out alone or with friends, but family gigs are a big culture.
I arrived in the middle of winter, with every character in my very active family. So, my learning of the outdoor and fun life just started. Winter has helped me learn to share this space, indoors, with these beautiful characters, from the baby of the house to my lovely wife. We have grown to realize that our selfishness was meant to remain in Nigeria. And so, we have quickly dumped it in the bin bag and discarded properly. Everything is now shared. Fun is now back in a different form, and even better. Almost better.
Summer is almost ended. We have been to places that the coronavirus would allow humans to gather. We have done the Winnipeg and Grand beaches. We have visited and camped at parks and grasslands. I have learned to make the best pork and turkey barbeque. My shawarma is badass. Beer never tasted better. I am also just finding out that I married the best pepper-soup chef in North America. I found a good blend of Jack Daniels and cola while experimenting in my coven. I can never have enough of the life that being a Nigerian in diaspora has offered me. This is the way. This is actually the only way.
Remember that last fun I had with my guy in Bonny Island before I left Nigeria. Remember the joints, the loud music, the gossip with friends, the laughter over cheap beer, the marching ground of goat and chicken, the asun that was spiced with Cameroon pepper which forced us to pout and hiss sssuuuuu, the debate about politics and how clueless Nigerian presidents have remained, the gossip about company colleagues and who is gbenshing the new industrial training girl, and all the rascality that our nation affords us all as a compensation for being raped by bad leadership. You see all these things? I miss them still, but nothing can be as cool as what moving to Winnipeg has cultured me into.
Poet and novelist Bibi Ukonu is Head, Griots Lounge Publishing, Canada.