Succumbing to culture shock in Jand!

Prelude

The first time I came to England, I was so looking forward to my visit that when my late Dad, who wasn't known to be emotional, hugged me, the shock didn't immediately register. My mum usually cries bucket loads at every given opportunity, but on this occasion she was calm. As I bade farewell to my family in my crisp three piece suit with leather briefcase, I still didn't feel any pang of emotion sweeping through me. I had slept very well, but got up very early than normal to catch what would turn out to be my first and last flight with Nigeria Airways.

I saw Dad leave for work. My mum, accompanied by a close friend of mine, drove me to the airport. As soon as we got to MMA, we settled down and loitered in the airport lounge and chatted in the process. I was too excited to feel hungry, not that I had any appetite in the morning anyway.

As the time ticked away, Mum and my friend gave me a last minute hug ( I expected my mum to cry at this stage, but she didn't - she probably did later), wished me a safe journey and I watched them as they disappeared out of view. It then dawned on me that I wouldn't be seeing the people closest to me for a long time yet.

The weather had been threatening all morning to rain. The sky itself was still showing signs of dullness matched with a combination of white harmattan mist. Then it happened - the announcement in the terminal boomed into the speakers with a thick accent saying "Good morning, Ladies and gentlemen. This is an announcment for flight A351H to London Heathrow. Due to bad weather conditions, the flight is now delayed indefinitely until good weather visibility returns. Further announcements will follow later. Thank you".

I sat there thinking "Ohhhh...why now? I want to go to London o". I watched on the screen where various flight information was displayed and true to the announcement, it had "Delayed" on majority of the flights. So what do I do to kill time? I had no book at hand. Instead I settled for one of the Naija dailies that I bought from one of the terminal stalls. At the same time, I took a cursory look at the weather outside. Still no change. Conversations from fellow travellers circled me, but I was not in the mood to eavesdrop or even make a contribution. My mind was elsewhere. Even the contents of the newspaper I was reading wasn't digested properly.

I checked the time on the board, and 30 minutes had lapsed since the first announcement. I was beginning to feel agitated. I stood up and paced the floor, taking a few strides to the left, and back to the right - each time, fixing my gaze on my briefcase. Then I sat down again and returned to reading the newspaper.

Another 30 minutes went by and I checked the weather outside. It was now clear. Excellent, I thought. I wondered when another announcement would be made to clear our plane for take off. The announcement didn't come until another 25 minutes. Hooray! Jand, here I come at last.

The Experience

Even before the Pilot announces the information on the intercom, you'd probably know you are approaching your country of destination - in this case, Jand. You start seeing bright colourful lights and beautiful landscapes (assuming you arrive at night) below you and no matter the season, you will no doubt experience a chilly atmosphere - a stark contrast to Naija where you look down from the plane and you will almost certainly see a rough and uneven landscape.

And if you were already dozing, you will be forced to wake up due to the unbearable heat. And you will not fail to notice that some areas on that landscape you have just viewed from the plane are dark. "Oh! My God", you pray - "Let them not take the light in our area o" - you mutter inaudibly to yourself. Welcome to Naija.

Surely, you know you are in London when the Airport officials refrain from asking you "Oga wetin you bring come?". You trudge on blissfully, basking in the knowledge that you have finally arrived in London.

You stand in the queue. (Mind you, no one is jumping the queue and no official is carrying five or six passports in his/her hands and taking it to the front of the counter to be stamped on behalf of some VIP or a passenger who just happened to tip him/her).

Yet you are surprised when no official delays you unnecessarily or seeking to obtain "egunje" (bribe) from you, or an official examining your British passport and looking suspiciously at you and asking, "Are you sure you are the one in the photograph?", "Can you stand in the corner there?I need to take your passport into our office to see oga", .............

Strange as it may seem, you are not feeling any heat at all whilst standing in the queue. Everywhere is cool. Your luggage arrives without unnecessary delay, since the entire luggage is being driven by a cargo and not being pushed by two hefty men. Three flights arrive at approximately the same time, yet there are enough trolleys for every passenger. No official instructs you to go outside the airport to pick up trolleys because they've run out of trolleys inside the airport.

Finally, you make it past Customs, still no hassles. No one asks, "Oga wetin you chop remain". You make it to the visitors area and you are glad someone was there to welcome you and take you home. But whilst coming out of the airport, something funny keeps lurking in your mind. Ah......you remembered. Airport touts do not approach you with the saying "Oga, welcome sir , make I carry your luggage?".

Unlike in MM airport in Lagos -You hear one tout say to another tout as he attempts to take your luggage, "My friend, abeg clear. Na me get here first. If you no leave dat luggage, I swear I go wipe ya face and if ya teeth no fly comot my name no bi Igodalo". Survival of the fittest eh! Okay, you let the bully take your luggage and once he loads it to the back of the car for you, he hits you with a bombshell. He expects you to pay him in pounds! Pounds? Yeah! they grow on trees, don't they?

On the way home, you are puzzled that "area boys" did not ask you to tip them. Lagos is a different scenario. You are confronted by six "area boys". All of them are tall, ugly and looking with menacing eyes. They start singing your praises.

"Oga mi sir, more blessing. Ti e oni baje. Ama run awon ota e ni jeje ni. Iwoyi next year, na multiple visa. Americana Londoner, surely stopping over briefly in Naija and shuttling back to London. Ha! see your rosy cheeks na, looking very infectious. Oga with fighting pounds and dollars overriding every currency in abundance. Father, ko ni re yin o !"

You grudgingly take in all the encomiums (which you are sure had been perfectly rehearsed and probably said many times) and do what is expected of you by giving them 200 Naira. The gang is not pleased. Unashamedly, they retort by saying "Oga! Emi Emi laye mi. Se elebi lepe wa ni?" (Translation - They are indicating nonchalantly that the money is not enough.)You reel off more Naira notes and hand them another 300 Naira.

Again, they don't appear to be contented. They reply by saying "Oga mi, owo ija le le yi o !"At first, you don't understand what they meant. Then it finally dawns on you. With the money you have just given them, you cannot possibly expect 6 of them to share the money equally without beating each other into a pulp.

Of course, they expect you to give them some more money. If you refuse, they could turn nasty and smash your car or take it forcibly from you. You back down by giving them another 100 Naira to make them happy. "Baba rere!" They hail you once more, "Wa gbayi, Ese se nso ro ni! Eto te se fun wa ara ni o. Yo se! "- (Translation -You can go!). You look back at the incident and as if you have just been held hostage and granted amnesty, you laugh inwardly to yourself whilst feeling relieved as well.

Back in London .....

You wake up the next day and you are still nursing that inward feeling of uneasiness and happiness. You had a peaceful sleep but you are surprised that the neighbourhood was very quiet. Mmm...not a single sound disrupted your sleep. There was no Aladura clanging the bell in the early hours of the morning and ranting, "Edi de, e gba dura - Ijoba olorun ku si dede". Also, no sound emanated from the Mosque blaring "ALLAU WAQBA !!"

Afterwards, you jerk yourself to reality that you are indeed in London. You stare out of the window, Pako in mouth and a bedroom wrapper round your neck and covering your body.You admire the scenario surrounding you and you begin to sing while chewing your Pako- "Ose ose o, ose o, ose Baba. Ope lo ye o" (Thank you father. You deserve to be Praised).

Your gaze meets that of a neighbour across the street. She is an elderly white lady who is baffled that you are singing to yourself, "chewing a stick" and wearing a funny attire. She shakes her head uncontrollably and concludes you are a weirdo. If looks could kill, you definitely got the message and realise only then that you are in London.

It's afternoon and the sun is up. You perch on your window watching the movements of people as they go about their business. One thing strikes you as odd. Something is amiss. Then you realise that no one is hawking "PURE WATER", or "wan buy PA-PER", "FOYIN ! FOYIN !", "Pombe pombe e ", "Langbejina o", " Fine Bread", "Olosan yin na ti de o". "Elewa aganyin ti de o". etc. Further still, there is no "Shume" (show repairer). No "Ejika ni shop" Mobile tailor). No "Eleran" (meat seller). And then it continues to dawn on you that you are in London.

You decide to go out after being in London for a week. After all, you deserve a "Stroke" out. Yet, something warns you that such inadvertent mistake will be sniggered at in London. You realise you are meant to say "Stroll" and you accept the need to adapt quickly to the English culture. Everywhere is clean. There are no gutters about. And there is no visible refuse dump on the streets or main road. Unlike Naija, there are notable places in Isolo, Mushin and Aguda where the refuse dump is SOOOOO BIG, you wonder how on earth people in their right minds choose to dump waste on a major road. And the saddest thing is that people living in the area are not perturbed or disturbed by the filth. There are several restaurants opposite the refuse dump and people eat and drink oblivious to the sad surroundings they live in. It would seem as if they do not have any perceptive means with which to smell the terrible (e bi ma gbe mi (vomit - type) of filth.

Worse still, they even feed babies out in the open filth. If that is sad, what can be said of people who climb to the top of the dump looking for re-sellable items. They are even closer to the dump than people on the streets. Can they not perceive the smell?

But I digress. Back to London. Bravely, you enter a bus and embark on a short ride. Mmmm. That's funny. People are not rushing to enter the bus - and the usual stampede for seats is missing too. "Iya Rashida, ewa joko si yin" (Iya Rashida come and sit next to me). People actually queued to enter the bus. Noticeably, no one is hawking in the bus trying to sell you a special product that happens to cure every ailment afflicting the human anatomy - from Lakuregbe to Ofinkin, Ara riro, Iba, Otutu, Igbona, Jedijedi, Ifo, eela, Lapalapa, Akokoro, Efori, etc...(With fondness, you remember Zebrudaya's rendition of advertising the detergent soap power - "weda it are doti of baby napi or doti of mechanic uniform, the new improved elephant blue detergent are have powerful to washdeep down and abolish all the doti........from now on, go to bi purchase the new improved elephant blue detergent - even plus including missus").............

Also the conductor did not rant about his destination. "Ikeja keja keja. Anthony ma wole o. Wole pelu change e ni o, ma so yin po ni o. No change fifty Naira o. Maalo moto. Wo egbe e ? Wole kanleeeeeeeeee". (Ikeja keja keja. Anthony passengers don't board. Make sure you enter the bus with the exact money, as I haven't gt any change. Driver, you can go) You are amused.
You recall with nostalgia that most drivers in Naija drive like maniacs - majority of whom do not bother to wear a seat belt. They convert a two lane carriage way into four, sometimes five. They don't give way. They don't know what a T- Junction is and that the car on the motorway has the right of way. There is traffic congestion all over the place due to accidents, a driver going fast or a driver engaging the gear but not his brain.

You start listening to irate drivers shouting:

"Mister man, you are a bloody fool, 'comon MOVE your wretched car out of the way";"Sharrrap!! Iwo na you are a bombastic nincompoop";"Han! Han! Tori olorun. Who park this motorcar for here and go? Be it who, he, she or her is a silly buffoon";"Do you know whom you are taking to?";"Hen hen! Na your name dem dey take collect money for bank, abeg comot for road make man pass"; "Can't you bus drivers learn how to be courteous on the road and give way? This won't create any unnecessary congestion";"Ha! him dey blow grammar, wo! make I hear gbosa for my car, na hin be say you don see trouble";"Se you blind? Can't you see I can't pass";"Igbanladogi e, Iyen ni mo fe teba ti, jo yi wo e soun jare";"Na for farm you take learn driving? See as e dey drive like craze man";"O de maalo oko asewo"; "Ni se ni ko wa fo";"Ogbeni, ma je ko wo le o. Ma na gede para o " , etc.

Some drivers don't even bother to signal before changing lanes. And it is a ritual to blare the horn when overtaking any car - an indication to the opposite driver that he should be aware of the car next to his. Consciously, some drivers even leave the hazard lights on for the entire duration of their journey. This is supposed to be a fashionable thing now. And I thought initially that the hazard light is only to be used during an emergency.

In England, you find that driving generally is orderly. As the bus journeys on, the bus is stuck in a traffic jam. Ah.....Careful, you don't want to be heard saying "go slow". Again, there are no hawkers trying to sell you their wares. Also, the indiscriminate hooting of car horns is no where to be heard. Mmmm. There's more. There are no "agberos" or area boys to demand "land" money from your bus driver.

Funny still! There are no illegal road blocks. No Policemen shouting "Oya, park. Wey ya particulars". And even if you do have them in your possession, you are likely to hear this remark, "Oya, come go open ya boot", If he's satisfied with his "search", he may look your car over, desperate to find a fault with it and say, "Oga, you no get wiper ", (as if it rains that much in Naija), "Oya, which ones now, see me"- invariably, he is implying that he wants a bribe.The Police not only take "Egunje", they now take it from you openly. It is a known fact that in Naija, the Police IG instructs his men to deliver something in the region of 30, 000 Naira everyday to him. Any surplus, be it 10k, becomes theirs. But they must not fail to deliver the purported 30k to their boss. Danfo/molue drivers bear the brunt of this unfair set up. All over Lagos, these buses have to fork out 20 Naira everyday to policemen as they embark on their journey. Their car is marked so that when they come back on that same route, they don't have to trouble them for a second fee.

Back inside the London bus, you witness two teenage kids indulging in a passionate kiss, and you stare at them with mouth agape. You realise that act you are seeing before your eyes in the bus is alien in Naija. Some two streets away, you decide to get off the bus. You are almost tempted to say "owa o", before realising you only need to press the bell to alert the driver of your intention to get off the bus. Mmm. You wisely copied the last passenger's move and got out in the middle exit doors instead of the entrance door. Other commuters alight without any problems. People are not indulging in "Bolekajas" (bus) by saying;

"Ma demu le gbe e"; (I'll stab you)"Meshionu (shut up), my friend speak English, I no understand Yoruba. Na who you wan cheat? Abeg give me my change""Conductor, o de wa gbe ru mi," (conductor, please come and assist me with my load) "Awon wo lofe sopo, ti nba send e ni left, oju e ma be ni" (I'll punch you if you don't give me my change) " Mister man, look as you "mash" my shoe", "You lucky say I dey fast. Yeye man, just carry your trouble go""Ehen! when you get car for home unko! Na me say make you enter bus, abeg no nak me tori o say you be staff, cuz you nefer pay me" etc.......

By now you are thirsty and need a drink. You enter a shop and you are immediately confronted with the enquiring eyes of an Asian shopkeeper. He looks at you suspiciously. You pick out a drink and realise to your dismay that you don't have enough change on you. A thought creeps to your mind. " Mallam, I no get change. I go settle you later". What if the man protests?

Another thought creeps to your mind. "Mallam, abeg chill. I go pay you later, Allah". Suddenly, you realise with resigned indignation, that you are not in Naija. Finally, you scramble for some coins sufficient enough to buy you that drink. Four hours later, nature calls. Your bowels are full and your bladder needs emptying. You look around for a convenient spot to deposit the contents. As you undo your zipper against a wall, three white passers-by stare at you disbelievingly at what you are about to do. In a flash, you quickly pull your zipper back up and walk off realising for the umpteenth time that you are in London. You say to yourself "ha! Naija kare jare". (well done, Nigeria)

It is now dark as you make it back home. The light is still on. It has been like this for a month since you arrived. The water too is constant. And there is hot water too. No one knocks on your door to ask "Broda, semo le ri sibi sugar ni be yen" (can I have some cubes of sugar).

After a month in London, you start to mimic the way the English speak with words like "Na mean" and "innit" "na wharam saying", "Yeah mon", "wo sapping", "I'm gonna and I wanna". And some American colloquial phrases like " Ya! All, Whatever!".

Your accent changes overnight and you start speaking like an Englishman and start pronouncing words, albeit tongue twisting them with difficulty - such as saying "Twenny", "Compura", "Inranet", "Sariday", "Nu York Siri", etc.. You change your name from; Tajudeen to Dean; Or from Sherifatu to simply Sherry;Or from Chukwudi to Chuck; from Polycarp to Paul; from Toyin to Tony; from Lekan to Lee;from Jimoh to simply Jim; from Sesan to Sean; from Bilikisu to Billy; from Mulikatu to Katie;from Sidikatu to Cindy; from Moriamo to Maureen; from Alani to Alan; from Rafiu to Ralph;from Ramoni to Ray; from Ogoluwakitan to Keith, from Aborishade to Boris, Gbenga to Ben,Morufu to Murphy and so on............... This is all in a vain attempt to appear posh.

You are privileged to be invited to a dinner. You sit next to your pal and you get served vegetable salad for starters. Everyone starts eating away. You make an effort to eat a mouthful of salad but the taste does not agree with you. You carefully and skilfully spit it out without anyone noticing.

Still everyone continues to eat their salad - by this time your friend has nearly finished his. After a few minutes, you can't take it anymore and you ask your friend, "Una, abi dem cook ya own", - referring to your pal's salad.

What a shame! You are now in London. Frankly speaking, you would have preferred "gira", "ogbono" or "isiewu" to the set up in front of you. But your lifestyle is about to change. Your thinking, your personality and your overall outlook to life will merge inevitably with the British culture. And as long as you remain here (assuming your papers are valid and you are lucky not to be deported), your psyche will remain unchangeable. That is until you return to Naija and conformity with the British culture remains an inescapable reality. This is because you are now in London.