my first letter home

I will prefer to start by saying that I am so happy that I am now in England. This has been my dream since I was a kid, I had always wished to leave my country and travel to the white man’s country to experience life in a different environment.

As I walked through the door dragging my big box behind my back with two other smaller bags hanging on my shoulders. There was excitement written all over my face, and when you look at the widening smiles on my lips, it won’t take so long to figure out that it was my first day in England.
I looked at every single person or thing that catches my attention as I approach the door leading to the bus station. It was not so cold actually while I was in the building contrary to my initial perception of London as a very cold country. I was moving as fast as my legs could carry me, humming one of my favourite songs and gazing up and down at the same time. Not knowing where to concentrate on because I have never seen a place so beautiful in my whole life. Closer and closer I approached the doorway with enthusiastic appetite to see what the outside looked like. But suddenly my body chemistry began to change; I could feel a chilling breeze coming from the outside towards me. At first I thought there was an air condition somewhere blowing at a high frequency. Well, I moved on, just to find out that it was a lot colder outside than it is inside. I could hear myself saying quietly; ‘Jesus Christ of Nazareth… is this the real weather here or do they have air conditions on the streets’ I could not understand why it should be warmer inside for it has always been the other way round back home in Nigeria especially for the upper class that have air conditions in their rooms.
My body was so cold, the hairs on my arms stood up and there were goose pimples all over my body. So I said to myself that ‘the best thing was to get out some more heavy clothes from my luggage and put them on. Then quickly I did just that, I opened my big box, and brought out a big jacket which I had bought in Nigeria to keep myself warm when I get here. But I had had no reason to wear it since the weather was not cold from the Murtala International Airport Lagos. But it was time for me to wear it and I did. Sitting beside in the bus station were this two pretty white girls, little did I know that they have been there all this while watching me. And immediately they began to laugh at my quick decision of wearing a bigger jacket which I know wasn’t fashionable to me at all. But I had no better option. I said maybe this is funny so I began to smile too. They waved at me and I waved back. And I said to myself ‘this isn’t a bad way to start, if on my first morning in London some white girls could smile and wave at me, then it means that this is the beginning of good thing to come.
I sat there quietly looking at the different buses as they arrive at the different times and load their passengers and leave right on time. Everything here was carefully planned, the buses were as clean as if they were taken straight from their manufacturers. And the drivers were all neatly dressed up.
I remembered the buses in Nigeria, and their drivers. How irresponsible they were and how uncomfortable it was to travel on their buses. Their bus conductors are even worst than the drivers, always ready to bully their passengers at any time. In places like Lagos where they have local buses popularly known as ‘molue’ it is really annoying to see how passengers suffer while in this buses. So I remembered one popular Nigerian song that says: ‘for inside molue we be one ninety-eight, forty nine sitting and ninety nine standing, see human being as we pack like sardine, suffering and smiling inside rheumatism’. As I sat there waiting for the bus to take me to my university, I sang this song quietly in my mind, and I felt so bad about my country and disappointed about the bad things happening as a result of lack of creativity and low-density mentality of the people in the political and cultural economies.
I thought about the fearful and unfriendly neighbourhoods, the absence of a sense of brotherhood, the selfish leaders and the angry mob in the community. I also thought about the state of an average Nigerian youth and the graduates roaming the streets with no job.
As I stepped into the bus, I thanked God for delivering me out of the clutches of agonies of the jungle and have translated me to an amazing environment where opportunity knocks softly and tenderly each day.
Now, I was beginning to get more relaxed psychologically having landed safely at the airport after a long flight of about six hours. That has been my longest time of travelling by air, an experience that I will never forget. Prior to the taking-of, the pilot has warned that every passenger should fasten their seat belts and observe all other safety precautions as usual, an attitude which, if carefully analysed, could possible explain to a certain degree the reason for the initial nervousness and fear that had gripped me. Everything went on fine as soon as the aircraft found its way into the cloud, everywhere was calm apart from the charming crew members moving from seat to seat serving the passengers with drinks and cookies.
We had left Lagos at about eleven o’clock in the night and after about two hours into our journey, we experienced a very great turbulence in the air, I could feel the aircraft ascending and descending at the same time, we could hear the rumbling sound of the cloud as the airplane was penetrating the thick clouds in a very high speed. Some of the women who were sitting in front of me began to pray and shout ‘the blood of Jesus’ and ‘Holy ghost fire’ I could hear the prayer warriors among them praying in different languages and tongues. It didn’t take much time to figure out that these women were Nigerians. Even in the midst of the corruption in the country there were so many religious ones always ready to exercise their faith in God especially in time like this. They were shouting at the top of their voices and some of the passengers that were sleeping woke up in fear. Everyone was in great fear apart from the man that was sitting beside me. I realized that while all these things were going on, he had just sat there on his seat without saying a word. Curiously, I asked him ‘what do you think is going to happen’? And he said ‘nothing is going to happen’, ‘it’s just turbulence, it happens all the time and that the reason for the shaking of the airplane is that the pilot is trying to manage the situation’. And when he finished speaking he went back to sleep. His final word has given me the courage that everything will be fine.
So, I began to think about my family, the kind of happiness they had when I told them that I have been granted a visa to travel to England. I remembered the last joyful moment we had the photographs we took together and the last meal I had with them. I also remembered the last word that my dad had told me and I became calm and begin to wonder how they will feel if I happen to die on my way to England.
But mom had told me while she was seeing me off to the junction that God will be with me she reminded of the meaning of my native name “chibuzo” which means ‘God is the way’. She said ‘go in peace, and God will be with you’ her eyes were heavy with tears and I knew she was going to miss me so much. I paused briefly beside her and she rubbed her lovely hands on my shoulders. “Everything will be fine” I said looking directly into her heavy eyes. And when she had hugged me she blessed me with a kiss on my forehead and said goodbye to me.
As I zoomed off from the junction in a bicycle with my younger sister, I took a glance of my village and I looked closely at the flourishing palm trees and bushes that stood along the two sides of the road, as an artist, much of my inspirations come from my extensive study of nature.
While I ponder on all these things, the rumbling sound continued and I knew deep down in my mind that I wasn’t ready for death. I began to reflect back on my life, and what will happen to me if I die now for I believe in after life. I started praying for the forgiveness of my sins, and that God should please accept me in heaven if I happen to die. Then I remembered all the good things that God had done for me. The fact that I am now in an aeroplane travelling to England is wonderful work of God. And it is the most interesting testimony in my entire life.
When I left the Institute of Management and technology (IMT) Enugu, Nigeria in 2001, I was posted to Ondo state for the National Service (NYSC), after a successful completion of my youth service between 2002 and 2003 I earned myself a meritorious award as one of the Best Corp members from that state. I had painted the portraits of the National Youth Service Corps Director General, the state Director and the local Government Administrator. It was one of my most successful Paintings, and I was so happy that it won an award for me.
Then I left for Port Harcourt Rivers State of Nigeria, where I decided to pitch my tent in search of greener pastures. Like every other Nigerian graduate, life wasn’t easy I managed to survive through hard work and I always acted like though it was impossible to fail. I was working as hard and as smart as I can. I was painting Landscape, figures and portraits of clients on commission. The city of Port Harcourt is a vibrant city for any kind of business, there were so many expatriates living and working in the oil sectors and other industries. So I began to move around the city trying to discover any possible opportunity.
I found out that there was this company situated at the centre of the city which I was interested in and I will always stop and look at the building anytime I pass by. They deal on furniture and I had no idea why I should be interested in this company among several other bigger establishments scattered all over the city.
So one day I took one of my greatest decisions ever, this decision was a very positive one. I woke up one morning and decided to visit this company. First I brought out the photographs of my best collections of paintings and arranged them neatly as a portfolio. Got dressed up on one of my best outfits and went. When I got there I saw the receptionist and I had a word with her. I told her how that I will like to display some of my paintings on their empty walls for their customers to see. And probably make some sales through them. She was amazed at my paintings and she said. “I am just a worker here, and I have no right to make such decisions but if you go and see the directors at our head office hopefully they might want to help you”. So I did exactly as she said and headed for the head office immediately. I wasn’t ready to give up, I was like “I will see the end today”. And when I got to the head office, I went straight to the gate and knocked softly. In a minute I could hear an approaching foot steps towards the gate, but it was difficult to say who was coming towards me for the gate was very huge and the gaps in between the two separate doors were carefully blocked so that people standing outside the gate could hardly see a thing in the company. So when he finally came to the gate I heard the sound of the hinges as he opens the gate. There he was one of the gatemen dressed in a security uniform. “Who are you and what can we do for you” he looked sharply at me as he spoke. “Yes” I said hastily, “my name is Innocent and I’m here to see the director” his brow furrowed as he gazed into my eyes. He was probably wondering who I was and what gave me the courage to want to see the director of a multi-million company. The director is the head man of the company and he is a white man, and here am I, a boyish looking young man sweating profusely in the hot sun, having walked a long way to where the company was, saying that I wanted to see the Director. And he asked me again the second time, I could see the anger in his face, and his eyes seemed like they were warning me to leave, so I stepped backwards. Most gatemen in Nigeria are very hostile to strangers especially when you don’t show up in a car. I stood there by the gate wondering the next thing to do. I didn’t know that while all these things were going on that the Chief security officer was there watching, and listening to our conversation. He ordered the gate man to let me in. When I got into his office he asked me to sit down, and bending towards me like a grand father he said. “Son what can we do for you?” so I brought out the portfolio of my paintings and showed him saying. “I am here to see the Director to ask him if he could allow me to display my paintings on his empty walls at their branch office in the city” He listened carefully as I went on to tell him about myself, and I could see how amazed he was to learn that those paintings were done by me. And when I finished speaking, he told me how impressed he was by my courage to come and that I have a great talent in painting. He also called some of his other colleagues and showed them my portfolio, and as they admire the paintings they commended me for such wonderful works. So the Chief security officer promised told me that the Director was a nice man, and that he might probably want to help me. But that he will try to see that I get to see him. Before I left the office their office that day they booked an appointment for me to see the Director in few days time.
Mr Robert the Director of the company was a perfect gentle man, he asked me “my friend, how may I help you” with great joy in my heart, I told him about my intentions and I showed him my collections of work, he was really impressed. He told me that he deals only on furniture but that he has a friend who might be interested in helping me in some ways. He picked up his phone and called his friend Mr Panos, who was a director of one of the biggest hotel in Port Harcourt, he told him about me and his friend was very eager to see me for he had told him that my paintings were excellent. Right there on the phone Mr Panos told him to tell me to come to his office in two weeks time to see him. My heart was filled with excitement as I walked home. I begin to think what might possibly happen. I began to make new paintings from the next day getting ready for this visit, “who knows he might like one or two and probably buy them from me or better still commission me to do some paintings for him” I said as I prepare my canvases. As each day pass by, I count the remaining ones, I have never had an opportunity to speak to anybody of that status in my whole life. Especially when I look at the size of the building as it stood there in the city centre, my imaginations of what this man might look like heightens daily. The harder I work, the more courageous I became.
However, two days before the day, I fell sick. “What a nightmare”, “what am I going to do” I could not explain the reason for this sudden illness, the whole of my body was shaking, I could not stand on my feet. Well I told myself, even if it means rolling on the ground to this appointment I won’t mind. As far as I was concerned, it is only death that could stop me. I picked up courage and stood up, went to one of my sister’s place who was a nurse, I told her to give me the strongest medicine for headache and fever not minding the cost. I was ready to pay anything to make sure I don’t miss my appointment. She gave me some pills, and an injection through my veins and I left feeling better. When the evening came, the illness became worst so I bought another medicine from a pharmacist but I never mentioned to him that I had taken some drugs earlier that day. I couldn’t sleep that night my sister was the first to call me on phone on that morning. She wanted to know how I was feeling. And when I told her about the second medicine she screamed, “Why did you not call me, you shouldn’t have taken anything else, now you’ve taken an overdose” when I hared that word overdose, I became scared, thinking that I was going to die. So I quickly took my bath with warm water dressed up and went to the bus stop to catch a bus. I was suppose to be there by 10am in the morning, but there were road block (go slow) as usual in Port Harcourt. The bus could not move, so I came down and mounted a Bike (okada). By the time I got to the gate it was 9.30am I was right on time but because of the air that blew me while on the bike, I became so cold, and my body started to shiver again.
I went into the hotel without minding the shaking of my body. Yet another problem that faced me was the fact that there were air conditions everywhere inside the hotel, I couldn’t stay longer. I went to the secretary of the director and introduced myself to her. I told her everything about the appointment and my illness, when she looked into my eyes and saw how sick I was, she suggested that I go and take care of myself, that she will change my appointment to next week. I was grateful for that was the best option at that point, so I left.
I took care of the sickness and I got better before the next appointment day. And when I finally came into the Directors office, I was delighted that I made it at last. Mr Panos was a tall handsome gentleman in a white skin, he was from the Lebanese. As he saw me he became keen to know exactly what I wanted. I could sense from the way he looked at me that he was really interested to hear my story so I started. I told him a little about myself and showed him some of my best paintings that I had made for this purpose. I knew white people are always conscious of time so I was very precise, I told him I will be interested in having an exhibition in the hotel. He asked me how many paintings I had at the moment and when I will like to have the show. I had some paintings actually, but my problem was how to get money to pay for the hall which was very expensive. Then I told him I had some works at home, but I was not sure if I am ready now because I cannot afford the bill for the hall. He quickly said,
“don’t worry about that I will help you” I didn’t understand what he meant by help, until he stood up and ask me to follow him. He took me to one of the hotel managers office, the man in the office was the manager for the accommodation and events.
Mr Panos the director of the hotel told him to take care of all my needs and give me one week for an art exhibition. He quickly checked his file and right there in my presence, I was booked for a one week exhibition in the banquet hall of the hotel, the most expensive hall in the biggest hotel in Port Harcourt. I wanted to scream for joy but I held my peace. There was this uncontrollable smile on my face, I thanked the two men especially the director for such a wonderful offer. “What can I do to pay you for this”? I asked as I knelt down to thank him “Can I make you a portrait please”. I said gazing at his bright face. He was quite funny, “never mind, I am very ugly and I don’t want to see my portrait” he said. I am sure he realized how happy I was for the offer he has made to me for everything were written clearly on my face. And he asked me to go get myself ready for my exhibition.
When I left his office I was jumping and running and dancing at the same time.
Few weeks later I had my exhibition, it was my first solo exhibition and it went fine.
I invited all my friends and families, my mother and my father came with my siblings and it was a great day. I could see the excitement in my parent’s faces as they walked round the hall to admire my paintings. Mr Panos also came around and said hi to my parents. Most of my friends did not understand how this could happen. Some thought maybe I had a lot of money but never wanted them to know of it. Well I couldn’t explain it too myself because it was a miracle. The only person that could possible explain what was going on was God.
From the opening day of the show, I was always there from morning to night. I managed to sell few works to some shell workers who came for a workshop in the hotel and decided to come and take a look at my paintings.
However on the 4th day of the show, about 9pm in the night, I was about to round up for the day. When I saw a couple and their two daughters approaching, at first I thought they were passers by for so many people who were lodging in the hotel normally come out most evenings and walk around the paintings to admire them. However they seemed to have a different kind of interest and I could see that from the way they looked closely at each work. Little did I realise that they were going to be the best customers to my exhibition. I went to them and greeted them handed them the exhibition catalogue and when the woman looked at the catalogue and saw my photograph, she was impressed by the young artist.
When she saw my self portrait which I also exhibited she requested that I paint her daughters and them. I took some photos of the family that night and they bought one of my paintings as well. The next day I came to the hotel to show her the pictures, she gave me some money as an advance payment and told me they were travelling back to England where they lived, but the husband was working somewhere in Nigeria so I will have to submit the work to him when I finished. That was a good deal, and I was excited. I sold quite a number of my paintings and the show ended on the seventh day.
I took my time to paint the portrait of the two daughters of Mr and Mrs William especially for the fact that they had come from Abroad. Few months later after I had submitted the work to Mr William, her wife came back again to Nigeria and called me to come and meet her for another portrait. Like I said earlier, she was my best customer in the art exhibition I had, not because she bought a painting and commissioned me for a family portrait, but because she introduced me to this wonderful family through whom I received the greatest favour of my live.
At this time I had had interest in studying in the UK. But I had no idea how the tuition fee will be paid. In one occasion I had told my dad the cost of studying abroad and he told me that even if they sell everything he had including us the children that it will not be enough for it was couple of millions of Naira. My dad is a very funny man, though he was saying the truth but he always make me laugh the way he sounded most times. “Well I want to give it a trial” I said, and with some amount of useful enthusiasm I started applying to some schools in the UK.
Mr William was a very good friend of one rich and famous Chief in Port Harcourt named Chief S. George. And she was with Chief’s wife when she called me on phone.
She had told her about my paintings and Chief’s wife decided to commission me for her portrait and the husband too. Both of the women gave me the photographs of them and their husbands with a huge amount of money as an advance payment. “God this is wonderful” I said in my mind as I count the new Naira notes straight from the Bank.
Fortunately for me, I had the catalogue of one of the schools I had applied to in the UK in my hand the day I came to submit the portraits. There were a lot of people in Chief’s house when I arrive. They all were captivated by the paintings I brought. They took a second look at me and the paintings when Chief’s wife told them that it was done by this young boy. Most of them could not believe it, they began to ask me several questions about my name, age, how long I have been painting and stuffs like that. Then Suddenly Chief’s wife noticed the catalogue in my hand and asked if she could see what that was. As I handed her the catalogue I told her I was applying for a Masters programme in Fine Art in the UK. They were all impressed about that and said that it will be nice if I could do that.
My second visit to Chief’s house was one of my best days in life. It was a day I will ever live to remember. I had come to deliver the painting framed, and I was lucky to meet Chief’s wife at home. She was excited about the work , I could tell from the way she was looking at the painting and me at the same time. I was beginning to get acquainted with her. I could see that my presence in her house was much welcomed. There were some other women in the room with her, the house was quite a majestic one with London taste. Everything seemed to be in place, and the chilled breeze from the air conditions in the room made me feel at home. I wasn’t in a hurry to leave the house because it was a lot better inside than it were outside. The weather has been very warm and having walked in the sun to the house I was tired. So staying back a bit was a wonderful thing for me to do at that moment. So I sat down on the sofa and began to admire the whole scenario.
Then she asked me how far I have gone with my school applications. “It’s going on well”
I answered reluctantly. I was beginning to get tired of the whole thing, for I got to the point where I needed to pay a deposit of £3000 and I couldn’t. She seemed interested and asked me again. “what stage are you now with the applications” then at this point I told her I couldn’t pay for the deposit so I missed the first admission. To my greatest surprise, she dipped her hands in her bag and got some money out, she didn’t even count it, but just handed it to me and said, “go and start all over again apply once more and I will pay the fees for you”, “Oh my God! What did u say”? I asked her and she said it again, I was speechless for few minutes, and tears began to drop from my eyes, tears of joy, as I thanked her so much. Is this in the dream or real life I was thinking. She also paid me the balance of the portrait Painting I did for her and I left.
That was how I came to England she did as she had promised. Paid what I could not pay. It is amazing but true, many people will not believe this. My dad could not understand what was happening to me, I have no answer either for the reason of all the favour that I am receiving from people. She has not met my parents or any member of my family. I am not her relation neither do we speak the same native language.

Thank God we landed safely I said as I sat down in the bus waiting for the driver to take us to Nottingham. We waited for about ten minutes, probably to wait for other passengers. The driver looked well fed and happy assisting the passengers to get their luggage into the boot of the bus which is by the left hand side of the bus. His stomach was protruding from the body and the tie he was wearing had no option but to lie comfortably on top of the big guy’s belly.
I sat very close to the window so that I could look out of the window to see every single thing on our way. There were very few passengers in our bus when the driver left. Few minutes later, I was pressed, I needed to pee. I started blaming myself for not having done it inside the airport lounge. So I started looking left and right wondering what to do. Suddenly I discovered that there was a toilet at the back of the bus. “Thank God” I said quietly, as I went to ease myself.
Everything seemed alright in this country, though some of the thing that were quiet interesting to me were little things, but little things matters most times. The roads were clean and smooth, there were safety signs everywhere, emergency exits in case of accidents and stuffs like that.
Why can’t my Government borrow some of these ideas to help better our country, I wondered. Looking out of the window, the first picture that came into my mind was a typical bus stop back home it would be the opposite, with human excrement all over the place probably the handwork of some drunk passengers who might have travelled the previous night. In some other places you will see all sizes of rats running up and down the hip of refuse dumped by some market women. Some of the rats were so big that if you are a bush meat lover, you might mistake them for a rabbit. The worst of it all is that you can’t stand the stinking odour and disgusting sight of such places. But why will people do such things, what exactly is our problem?. Some said it’s the government’s fault others think the society is generally corrupt. Well I think is probably more of an individual thing. People who live in the western countries would not urinate on the street simply because they might be caught by the law, but basically because they understand that it is not a responsible thing to do. But most Nigerians will urinate even in the premises of the police station with the officers present. They don’t care about the law or their personal behaviour. Could it be that they are not happy because the leaders are not doing well or are these people being just unnecessarily stupid? Does being angry make people arrogant? Will they eventually behave fine if the leaders improve in their leaderships? What will the leaders do to make them happy? These and many other questions continued to linger in my mind as we travel along the busy roads that lead to Nottingham. The journey was quiet a long one for about three and half hours the bus kept moving. There were different kinds of trees and fields along the road but not a single palm tree. Why? There was no answer from me for this question. The excitement and curiosity in my mind could not let me fall asleep throughout the journey.

When we finally arrive Nottingham, I quickly ran out of the bus picked up luggage and got a taxi to my residence. The building was very huge and decent. The Nottingham Trent University is a part of a collaborative scheme with the University Partnership Programme, so it is popularly known as UPP residence. At the reception I received a warm welcome from a young lady who was part of the reception team. She was such a nice person. I showed her a letter which was sent to me by the residence, indicating that a room has been reserved for me in the UPP residence at Gill Street. She handed me the keys to the room when she confirmed that my story was true. One of the men who stood by opted to help me find the particular room that was allocated to me. The residence was built to a high standard. All student bedrooms were fully furnished with a broadband-style internet facility and insurance to personal belongings. Flats are shared by male and female students, eight of us in my own flat three males and five females.
However, my first amazement was the key that was handed to me, this was only one key but it could open three different doors. First, the door to the building, secondly, the door to our flat and finally the door of my room. Each of the students has this one key and they all look similar, but can only open one the eight doors in the flat. It’s difficult to understand how that works. When I entered my room, everything was already in place, I sat down on the bed and took a good look at the room everything including the bathroom was perfect. “Thank God I made it at last”. I said as I looked out of the window and it was nice view of the city I could appreciate the top of the structures and the buildings because my flat was on the second floor.
I took a quick bath, and got some new clothes to change, for I needed to report to my course leader immediately, so he would know I have finally arrived. I came in six weeks late to my course because my Visa was delayed by the British embassy in Nigeria. I hate to remember what happened then it was one of my worst experiences in life. Meanwhile, the school was just about few minutes walk from my residence, so I bounced out and headed for the school. I got a map from the reception to locate the building where my department was situated. I started to feel like a student once again in my new pair of blue jeans and a white top and trainers I was able to blend to the system. Ninety percent of all the students I passed on my way were putting on jeans, t shirt and trainers. Though my pair of jeans was quite cheap but for the fact that they were new convinced me it worked. Don’t ask me how I managed with the cold weather for I could not believe that despite my age and experience that ordinary cold could treat me like that so I was moving as fast as my legs could carry me to get inside the building, apart from that everyone was walking very fast though I had no idea why there were moving so fast but I knew that only way to find out was to keep moving. The environment was very nice the whole place was filled with white handsome guys and pretty girls. I like to look at their nose the way is pointed like an elephant’s tusk. Their long curly hair also catches my attention. I was keen to find out if there were ugly ones among them but none. I could figure out some few guys whom I suspected to be artists from their mode of dresses. The first thing I realized about these wonderful people was that ninety percent of them smoke, eighty percent had piercing and tattoos all over their skins. When I saw those tattoos, the first thing that flashed into my mind was my encounter with the secret cult students in my university years in Enugu. Most of these cultists had few tattoos on their body to scare people and make themselves look like tough guys. One of the guys had demanded some money from me and when I refused he gave me a dirty slap on my cheek. Instantly, the earth was without form and void and darkness was upon the face of the earth but God did not speak then. That kind of slap could easily turn someone to a deaf and dumb person if care is not taken. As I looked at the tattoos I said “I hope these guys are not in secret cult too”? “For if they were, that means I am not safe”. Thank God they were not instead they were all nice gentlemen and ladies very cheerful and easy going.