This work is dedicated to God Almighty
He was furious and steaming in rage. He has never been this insulted in his entire life. As he navigated the black Range Rover Vogue down I.B.B Boulevard toward his dad's house which was a couple of streets from where he has just stormed out from in rage. He was in a contemplative mood driven by anger. What kind of hypocritical country was this? He pondered trying to understand why he had been treated the way he was. On the outside these dudes always mouthed idealistic clichés of being one people; everyday, ever since he came into this damned country, one was assaulted with media commercials trumpeting the oneness of all but in reality this was a deeply divided country. He fumed.
At that very moment he wasn't sure anymore if his decision to return to Nigeria was a smart one. He should have listened to his late mom's advice and steered clear of the shores of this country. But damned, he was Nigerian, he thought. Yea, his mom was black American and he had been born and bred in the US but he had kept in touch with his dad after the divorce of his parents when he was still in high school; his dad had moved over to Nigeria.
His mom had told him then that his father had a Nigerian wife and that the asshole (his mom's favourite name for his dad) had ran back to be with his whore in Nigeria when he found out she had learnt about it.
“God saved him I didn't catch up with his black ass when he ran because I would have shot him,” His mom always used to say. Strong black woman, God bless her soul he thought.
He had kept up communication with his dad because they were quite close before the issues with his mom that forced his dad to leave the US. His dad always used to send him money especially when he got into Harvard; and also used to send him pictures of his half-sisters in Nigeria. From the pictures and his correspondence with his dad, he had learnt he had two beautiful sisters in Nigeria who were eager to have him in Nigeria. His dad had no male child in Nigeria and had wanted him back but that was not possible until his mom died of cancer.
Why did he ever think he could possibly live in Nigeria? The more he came to terms with the realities of Nigeria, the more what he thought would be an adventure of fun looked more like a sojourn into nightmare.
"Damn! I should have known that the Nigerian dynamics were quite different from what we had in the US," He cursed out loud to no one in particular.
He was alone in the car. In the US no one cared about tribes or your religion but he had just shockingly found out that wasn't the case in Nigeria. In Nigeria ethnicity and religion were the supreme gods of the land and the people worshiped at its altar with a dedication that was frightening. Mahomet would have been proud if he had worshipers half as dedicated as the ethnic and religious bigots in Nigeria.
His mind went over the scene again that had played out at his girlfriend's house. For five out of the six years she was in the US they had dated and he had always known her as Kis and his name has always been Raheem so he didn't understand why her pop kept calling him Dan and calling her some strange name. Damn!
"Who is this Dan Iska that you brought to my house Bilkisu?" Her dad had asked as they walked into the expansive and nice sitting-room. He knew that the name was in reference
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.01.2016
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This work is dedicated to God Almighty. And to my mother.