On Leaving Home

Murtala Muhammad International Airport at night. Picture by me.

This is the longest I have been away from Nigeria at a stretch and it shows. Everything reminds me of home.

This morning, the buzz of a lawnmower and the leafy smell of freshly cut grass remind me of my father and his incessant mowing of our outsized lawn. Ibadan.

Close the door to keep the smell out and the lawnmower’s buzz morphs into something resembling the cacophony of electricity generators. Lagos.

Home never leaves you.

#BlackOutTuesday - Heal The World

The past few days have been challenging and emotionally draining on many levels that form part of my identity as a person.

As a Nigerian man, I have been confronted with news of senseless violence and rape perpetuated by a group of Nigerian men. Vera Uwaila Omozuwa, 22, was attacked while studying in a church, raped, and left for dead.

As someone who calls Lagos home and looks forward to moving back there, I have had to process yet another untimely death at the hands of police officers sworn to protect the people. Tina Ezekwe, 16, died from a gunshot wound that sounds like it was treatable if emergency care had been more effective. She was shot in the left leg and survived two days in the hospital before dying.

As a black person living in a majority-white country, I have seen yet another black person die an undignified death. George Floyd, 59, died under the knee of Derek Chauvin, a policeman. He died begging for his life, pleading for a breath, and calling for his mother.

It is tiring.