Familiar Strangers

During the drive to our Nigerian-home, my father began talking about the family, trying to familiarise me and Peace with our aunts and uncles. As my father talked I began pondering about the family members.

My father had three younger siblings, two brothers and a sister.

Uncle Ikenna was the second born after my dad. My father once mentioned that uncle Ikenna was a managing director at a bank.

Aunty Nnenna was the third born.

I remember as a young child when she came to visit us in London. 

I was around 8 or 9 years old then. Peace had been getting on my nerves so I hit her. As usual she went crying to my mum, who then came charging into my room with the wooden spoon. I could still see the little smirk on Peace's face as she looked on expecting to see me get beaten. Luckily aunty Nnenna saved me!

The youngest of my father's siblings was uncle Ikemefuna. 

Uncle Ikemefuna lived in Port Harcourt, where he worked in an oil company.

My aunty and uncles had their own kids, but Peace and I hardly ever spoke with them, apart from the brief phone calls at Christmas and Easter. We usually tried to avoid those calls but mum would usually catch us before we could sneak out of the room. I didn't really like having forced conversations; I could barely think of anything to talk about.

The drive was excruciatingly longer than it needed to be and the heat was unrelenting. It was such a relief to finally arrive at our destination. I looked around at all that I saw. It was like something I had seen in Nigerian-films, with high-walls and large gates.

Uncle KC beeped the horn a few times and within a few seconds the gates were opened up by a gate-man. We slowly pulled-up into a compound and stopped in front of a large house.

The outer walls of the house were painted a cream-colour with neatly cut shrubs and hedges running across the edges of the compound.

We all got out of the car and uncle KC helped us carry our luggage to the house.

The inside of the house was nicely set up with beautiful décor; the furniture was almost like something out of a catalogue.  I was filled with a bit of warm-pride to see the efforts of my father's hard work.

As I stood looking around, a house-boy came up to help carry away our luggage. He was a young boy of about 18, but looked older. He smiled politely at me as he walked over to where our luggage was.

"Chike! How are you?" my father asked nicely.

"I'm fine thank you, sah! I hope your journey was pleasant"

"It was fine, thank you...we arrived safely, that it was we prayed for"

Chike had a bright smile with a neat gap in his bottom set of teeth. He seemed to have a spring in his step as he came over. I stepped forward to help him but was startled by a loud voice. Aunty Nnenna. Chike had started taking our things away as I turned to give my attention.

“Wow! Obiora, you have grown! Dimkpa. Look at you! And see Ada! Adannaya!”

My aunty Nnenna came rushing with eagerness to me and buried me in her bosom as she hugged me. Within moments my mum also became overjoyed with excitement and hurried over. As expected the exchange was loud and fast. The joy they both showed must have been contagious because my father joined in with them; he didn't rush over but you could certainly see the joy in his face. I and my sister were quite surprised at this, as this was something we rarely saw from dad. Peace decided to take advantage of this moment and took a picture.

Just when we thought the moment couldn't get any more joyous my two uncles came over and saluted my father; their deep voices echoing across the hallway. Uncle Ikemefuna embraced my father and the two of them hugged tightly, patting each other on the back. Uncle Ikemefuna was a tall as me but naturally larger in size. He had a thick beard and low-cut hair. He was dressed smart but casual in shirt and trousers.

My mother and aunty were still exchanging pleasantries and catching up on time passed as they made their way into the parlour.

Uncle Ikenna came over. He was a tall figure, slightly taller than my dad. Dressed in traditional Isi-Agu and red-cap, he walked with an air of importance which kind of reminded me of my dad.

It had been quite a while since I saw my aunty and uncles. I still vaguely remembered them.

Uncle Ikenna stood facing my dad and the two greeted each other with salutations, slapping each other’s palms.

"Odogwu!"

"Agu!...Agu-Nwoké!"

"Okosisi!... Nwanne'm nkem oooh!"

As Peace and I stood watching, my father turned to us, gestured with his head, 'Come and greet!' and like the well-disciplined children we were, we went over to greet.

"Hello Uncle Ikemefuna." We shook hands with the usual click of fingers that Nigerian men love to do.

 "Obi, Ada; ke ka unu mere?" My uncle asked.

I just about understood the question, but I couldn't respond. My father and uncles just laughed knowing neither I Peace could speak Igbo. We just smiled in response.

"Obiora, Adannaya, come; don't you want to greet me? Am I a stranger?" My uncle Ikenna asked as he put his arms around me and my sister.

I wasn't used to being called by our Igbo-names by people other than our parents but for some reason it didn't feel strange. I hugged him back.

"My children, welcome back home;" Uncle Ikenna said happily. "Ngwanu, come. We have to catch up."

With his arms around our shoulders, he led us towards the living room; the sounds of laughter and loud voices from family members could be heard chiming across the hallway.

I felt my father pat me on the arm as he hurried past us towards the living room.

I guess meeting the rest of the family would help me understand more about my father, and the strange relationship me and him had. 

I mentally prepared myself about what was to come. 

One thing I needed to do if I was to understand anything, was to acquaint myself with my other family members... these familiar strangers.

A Journey Home - Part 2

We had finally made it to Nigeria. After a long flight from London to Lagos, we then had to take a local flight to Enugu. At that point I had already become tired of planes and had become very irritable.

After the stress of handling our luggage and trying to avoid bumping into other travellers, we made it out of the airport to a vehicle waiting for us. 

A slim man stood by the family sized car; he looked like he had been waiting there for some time. The man saw us and began approaching; he beamed a bright smile and let out a shout of joy. 

"Oga! Madam! Welcome! Welcome ohh!"

My father laughed and the two shook hands and hugged briefly; he came over to my mother and greeted her too. 

"KC?! How are you?" my mother said smiling.

"I dey ooh! I dey! We thank God." KC replied smiling as he turned to me and my sister.

Being the well-trained children that we were, Peace & I greeted KC before he greeted us.

"KC, so you're still this slim...like a chewing stick! Aren't you eating enough?" my mother asked jokingly.

KC didn't reply he just laughed as he and my father began loading our luggage into the boot.

KC was our driver...well; he was actually the driver for my family in Nigeria and he had been their driver for some time. I couldn’t say I remembered KC. I only knew his face from some of the photos we had back home in London.

After my parents and KC were done exchanging pleasantries, we all got in and begun our journey. KC and my parents were chatting away about the usual things: politics, the differences between ‘home’ & UK, how much me and my sister have grown and haven’t become spoilt like those other ‘useless children’ back in London; …that bit was something my mum often pointed out when talking about my sister and I.

I was already starting to sweat from the heat and Peace wasn’t making things easier. She was starting to dose off as she leant on me, and she was starting to sweat also; whatever anti-perspirant she was wearing wasn’t working very well.

“Peace! Lean off me man! You smell.” I said impatiently.

My sister didn’t even budge. She just kissed her teeth at me.

“You shouldn’t even be talking about who stinks; your b.o is just making me dizzy.”

I tried to nudge her off, but she was proving stubborn.

As my camera was packed in my luggage, I decided to take some mental pictures of the sights of the city. Everything seemed so interesting; the cars, the noise, the people even the trees...everything felt new… as if I hadn't seen such things before. 

Back in London I hardly appreciated such things, but here in Nigeria I seemed to be intrigued by them.

A little smile spread across my face as I looked at everything around. I then looked over at my father who was at the front looking out of the window. I could just about see a small smile on the side of his face too. He seemed quite happy to be back.

As child I remember some of the stories he would tell my mum, about where he grew up. Some of the stories were sad, like when he was re-telling the things he could remember from the war; and some amusing like the time he and his brother were in the village and they saw a masquerade being chased by two-dogs.

My father never really spoke to me and Peace about these things. We used to sneak out from our bedrooms and eavesdrop while my mum & dad spoke in the living-room.

As KC was driving, an Okada pulled up in front of us; KC impatiently pressed down on the horn and threw insults at him through the open window. 

"Abeg, comot from de road joh! Non-entity!...anuofia!" 

I began laughing. My father smiled a little and gestured for KC to calm down. KC kissed his at the Okada driver as we over took him. The Okada simply ignored him. My mother however didn't find it funny at all...she was more concerned.

"Biko, Kelechi! Take it easy, you know these Okada men are sometimes irresponsible drivers."

"Madam, I'm sorry, no vex oh; but that na de only way these yeye people go fit understand...everyday they'll be riding stupidly on the roads. If to say de driver get helmet, I for just jam am wit' dis moto." 

Though Peace was half asleep she heard that last comment from KC.

"Hmm. KC, you're a joker." she mumbled.

At that point my father turned to Peace.

"Ada, call him 'Uncle Kelechi', he's not your mate." my father said calmly.

KC didn't seem bothered. 

"No mind ya papa...it's fine. Just call me Uncle KC." he said happily.

As time went on Peace had drifted off fully into sleep, but this time she was leaning on mum, who had also dosed off.

My father and ‘Uncle KC’ had finished their conversation, so he decided then to speak to me.

“Mikel, look around you; these streets are where I grew up, where I sold goods to help support my mother and siblings; where I saw and heard various things. As I look around I see the dramatic changes this city has gone through.” My father’s voice had a solemn tone to it.

As he continued my interest slowly grew. The traffic around us seemed to be getting less and less congested; cars and other vehicles started flowing a bit more freely.

“Obi, this place holds a lot of memories for me…many, many memories. While we’re here I will share some of them with you. You’re growing into a man, so I know you may appreciate what I’ll tell you.” My father stopped talking. He seemed to be lost in thought.

I began to wonder what things he wanted to tell me. Part of me wanted my father to continue talking; to continue and tell me everything he had to say; but he just remained silent, causing me to be swallowed up by curiosity. I reminded myself that this wasn’t going to be easy for my dad. Although he wasn’t saying a lot I knew this was probably the most he had opened to anyone. My heart felt warm with appreciation for my father’s efforts; and of course I knew that I also had to put in effort if me and my dad were going to make any progress together.

I tried to mentally prepare myself for anything that came during our time in Nigeria; whatever happened I would just embrace it.

I prayed a short prayer for me and my father, and then I leaned my head back and enjoyed the rest of car ride home.