Canvas of Dreams - Cynthia Ihanden
Cynthia Ihanden
"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." - Martin Luther King Jr.
I feel like many people speak about issues that bother them but the target audience never listens. It seems people hear or read to respond but never to understand. I used to say it can never be me when I hear or see certain people speak about their situation, but I have now come to realize it can be me and I should never say never; I cannot honestly say or predict how I'll react in a situation until I find myself facing it.
There's been an exodus recently from Nigeria to several parts of the world, particularly the United Kingdom; Japa we call it. Siblings scattered in different parts of the world, parents not knowing the next time they'll set eyes on their children, children not knowing the next time they'll visit family if at all, the people they have left behind will still be alive, and hoping the reason they have to come back home wouldn't be to bury a loved one. I am one of those children.
Recently, someone posted a video on social media where she was bawling her eyes out. Her pain point was the loneliness she felt. She recently immigrated to Canada and from what I gathered, she went as a student. No friends, no one to speak with, and there were so many insensitive comments. She said she couldn't speak with her housemate and in fact, her crying in the bathroom had to be as quiet as possible not to attract any attention. Come back home if it's that bad, they said. Or join a community.
Another person on X had written that she was going home after work and she found herself crying. It had become frequent, and she could not articulate her feelings so the tears flowed freely. A passerby saw her and offered her a drink. In her words, it wasn't to pacify her or make her better. It was to give her strength for many more tears ahead. I could relate. I felt the person who offered her the drink had been there and done that. She would later on say she called family to speak with them and she felt better comforted. I would think about this and envy her, I've always been the one to comfort and not to be comforted, herein lies the problem.
It is so easy for people to posture and say come back home. Why is this not an option for people? Simply put, there's nothing to go back to. I used to be a part of the bandwagon till it indeed became me. Now I speak from a place of understanding. When you hear people just upped and left, a lot has gone into it. Selling properties, leaving a well-paying job, leaving family behind, or sometimes no family. Going back home is the last resort. We move in search of a better life - security, a working system when citizens are valued, good roads, electricity, and peace of mind.
When I remember the girl whose video trended, I am taken back to myself. Even as an immigrant who has spent 5 months in the UK, I have bouts of sadness and there are days I ask myself: Have we made a mistake, friend? But, when I think of the alternative which is going back home, I slug it out. The reason people don't speak is to not seem like ingrates, I mean this is what I prayed for months for, and so we don't receive any sort of backlash for even voicing the loneliness that comes with migration.
I have a friend who says he's planning to relocate because most of his friends have left Nigeria and the one left is already 80% out. I want to say, don't do it but at the same time, the alternative of staying back is worse off. The economy is dilapidated, the Naira is depreciating, the standard of living is poor, and insecurity is at an all-time high. Find a community, they say but people ignore how hard it is to make friends as adults especially for introverts, how meeting up involves serious planning, how people already have their community and it's just hard fitting in.
This is not me whining about my supposed good fortune of being ‘in the abroad’. It's just the truth. It is not a bed of roses. It is extremely lonely, and settling in takes time for some people. I am some people and I know I am not alone. These things take time and it can be mentally draining. I remember nights when my back is turned to the wall and I am weeping profusely yet the next person is oblivious of what is happening. I am taken back to days and nights when I am unable to articulate my feelings and I take a walk to drown the sadness I feel. I am taken back to days when I feel like going back to the place I once called home but when I remember there's nothing to go back to, not even a roof over my head, reality sets in and I tell myself someday soon.
I am taken back to how life was back home, my books, my little community of friends, being able to stroll down the street to get Caprisun, going downstairs to give Mohammed food because we cooked too much or giving him things we no longer find use for that he'll appreciate, being able to buy gala in traffic and calling Yetunde up to say, ‘we are going for a wedding - get ready before I get to yours’. Going restaurant hopping and having access to food; good food, because almost every corner has a restaurant and almost everyone thinks they are a chef.
I remember the defining day when I knew I had to leave the country. It was in May 2020, the day I decided not to drive to work and I entered a bus because I was tired from the previous night due to hours of traffic. I would get up at 5 and get home at 11 p.m. and I just wanted a break that day. I got robbed. Thankfully, that was all that happened; my phones, cards, and so on were all gone. But it could have been worse based on stories I had heard and read. I didn't leave until 2022 but I never entered a bus after that day and I always had a crippling fear even when in my car that I would get attacked.
I don't think I'm better off here, but I'm not worse off either, my prayer points have changed. There's a lot more sanity and order here. Do I want to go home? Yes. But not anytime soon.
For some of us, we got up in faith and moved. It was a canvas of dreams that seemed significantly better than our situation at the time. It was to get away from the chaos and madness of the place we grew up to love and then hate, a place we called home.
For some of us, we want to be able to put structures in place to be able to go back home, and for others, we've said goodbye to what we once called home, never to return, looking ahead to create ‘home’ where we are despite the challenges we might face. I know I will return home because there's no place like home, but I hope that when I do, there's something and someone to return to.
Cynthia is an aspiring business analyst navigating the 9-5 world by day, changing the world - one story at a time, one book at a time. When she is not writing on Medium or reviewing books on Instagram, she is seeking creative ways to make basic educational needs, opportunities and basic sanitary needs for girls easily accessible through her newly registered foundation - the Read with Cynthia Foundation. Connect with Cynthia on Instagram and Medium.
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