Diaspora Babe- I’m going to A-ME-RI-CA

2012-02-01T16:05:00.001-08:00

My name is Nneka, 29 years old with a story which seems like a lifetime. It all began summer of 2000, I had received admission to study pre-Law at the University of Georgia in Auburn, Georgia on a full ride scholarship. Elated beyond belief, I was on my way to the American embassy at the end of summer giving me enough time to resume university in the fall of 2000. I can still hear my mother blaring at me from below the stairs at 4:00 in the morning “NNE-E-K-A, let us go o, do you want to be late?” My mother was the strongest woman I’d ever known, standing at 5’4”, she had given birth to me and 4 younger siblings within ten years of marriage, my father had died just few months after my youngest sibling was born. Maah-ma as we called her, had been the pillar of the family, holding everything together and doing it with grace. She never showed any sign of weakness at least not in the presence of her children. She continued to beckon for me “my dear if you are not in the car in 5 minutes you will hear we-ehn this morning”. I was trying to do my best to hurry down the stairs but getting up and ready just before four was probably the most excruciating process, but it had to be done this way, I had to get to the embassy early so I would not be all the way at the back of what seemed like an endless line. The drive from the mainland to the Island was a smooth one, it had looked like a Lagos I had never lived in, no traffic jams, no chaos just a few cars with very few pot holes. My state of mind was quite the contrary, my thoughts were swallowed with anxiety and my stomach was now grumbling *what if I don’t get this visa?*, *I really should have rehearsed this interview last night*, *I hope I have all my documents complete, if not Maah-ma would kill me o*

It is 8:00 am now and the queue on Walter Carrington stretched all the way around the crescent, well there may be a bit of exaggeration but so it seemed from where I stood. I was number 5 in line and was beginning to think waking up that early really paid off. “Next in line please”, cried out the Afro-American man behind the counter. He stood at about 6 feet with an enormous afro which put him at about 6’1”. “Good Morning Sir”, I added. The next few minutes of the interview still remain a blur. I remember giving rushed replies to his every question like I was on a timed game show. Time though, came to a decelerating stop when he mouthed “Ok, come back for your visa tomorrow by noon”. Yes yes yes! I was in. Nneka Adamma daughter of Eze Kalu is going to America to be a Lawyer, as my fair mother had put it several times before I even started the application process. Only this time, it was real and everything was far from a dream. As the driver pulled into the drive way, my siblings Tochukwu, Chiamaka, Arinze and little Uzoamaka ran towards to car, as they had been waiting impatiently to hear the news. Tochukwu and I are only 11 months apart so we grew up very closely. Maah-ma and our late father had waited till I was five to have more children. Chiamaka, Arinze and Uzoamaka were relatively younger in age and class. “Ne-Ne, how did it go ?” Tochukwu asked with what looked like a sparkle in his eyes, knowing his faith would come through for me that day. “I’m going to A-ME-RI-CA” I danced around the yard as Uzoamaka danced around me pulling on the loose rope on my tailored shirt.

Later that evening I went up into my room picked out my diary from its hiding place and scribbled in a few words. A knock on the door sent me flying across the room to hide the tiny book. By this hour my mother was getting ready for her night shower, she walked in with a whitish facial mask, leaving only her eyes and mouth free of the mixture. “Nneka, I am so proud of you” she said with teary eyes but only those of joy I presumed. She continued to pray for me and shower me with the same old advice she had given over and over again. When I had complained to her about it, she would say “the more I say the better it sticks”. I was somewhat glad the moment she stepped out of my room because there was so much I needed to tell my diary. As soon as I was finished I picked up my phone only to see I had missed five calls, all from one person! Oh my God!!! Deji, how could I have forgotten my high school sweetheart in all the events of the day. Deji and I had dated through senior secondary and only recently we had started to fall apart because of my latest pursuit. I loved him dearly no doubt in my mind. I pleaded with him on many occasions to apply to the same college. Deji a Surulere born and bred would always say “Baby I’ve got Akokite blood flowing through my veins, my father was and I shall be too”. I dialled his number hurriedly on the land phone….ring ring ring…..no answer. Knowing Deji if I didn’t pick his calls after many tries, there was no way he would pick mine. It was only 6:00pm and since he lived two blocks away, I could make it to his house and back before it got dark. Pulled out my favourite pair of blue jeans with a matching top he had picked out for me on valentine’s, combed my hair up into a bun, all the make-up I needed was my lip gloss. As soon as I was finished I dashed out of the house pleading with Tochukwu to cover for me……………………………………

Gentle Waters

Diaspora Babe- I’m going to A-ME-RI-CA