Travel and see

nnaEmeka Meribe

Everybody was moving towards one direction. Some were running while others were walking in a very fast pace, the kind of pace athletes taking part in the Olympics 10 kilometre walk move with. Within few minutes, everywhere became still and the quietness sent a chill up my spines. I was the only one left in the bus; fellow passengers ‘abandoned’ me. They all had left the bus and ran towards the same direction with the villagers. None of them talked to me, not even the driver. I was terrified. I had never found myself in such situation. I couldn’t have run with them as I didn’t know where they were running to. Besides, I couldn’t understand the language they spoke. None of them could communicate in English. At that point, ‘nunc dimmitis’ was the only thing on my mind.

And then a little boy, probably around nine years, appeared. He was carrying some ware on his head and at the same time running—to that same direction. My eyes followed him as he ran. But all of a sudden, he stopped, brought down his ware and knelt down.

It was around 1 pm that sunny Friday and I was in a rickety overloaded bus going to Kano city from Kabo local council, where my big brother was doing his National Youth Service Corp programme. A medical doctor, he was posted to Kabo Cottage Hospital for his primary assignment. He was the first resident doctor in the hospital, which was just upgraded. So, he was a big man. The villagers respected him. He was called Baba likita (Oga doctor). And because we look alike, many of the villagers would also call me Baba likita and I would wave them in return and move forward with speed—so that they would not realize that I was an impostor.

I had gone to Kabo to visit my brother as my school was not in session then. It was my first visit to Northern Nigeria. My brother had sent me on an errand to Bompai Police barracks, Kano city. That meant I had to commence a two-hour journey from Kabo to the city of Kano.

When we came to a point, between Dawokin Tofa and Rimin Gado local councils, the driver drove into a village and pulled up. It was there that everything changed.

And so, when that little boy knelt down, I came out of the bus to explore my environment. As I walked towards the direction we came from, I saw a shop, which was not closed like others around. Whoever was in that shop must be different from the others, I had thought. As I walked down, I heard people in the shop speaking my language, Igbo. There and then, my mind found rest. I went into the shop, greeted them and bought a bottle of Fanta Orange to ‘cool down’. I then told them my story. They laughed and told me not to be terrified. “It was Friday,” they explained, “time for Jumat Service”. They told me that all those people I saw were headed for the mosque. It was the norm at that time every Friday.

As I walked back to the bus, however, I still saw that little boy. He was praying. I was touched. He knew that he was already late to the mosque, and he turned where he was into his prayer ground. He didn’t want to miss out entirely. That to me was virtuous. I learnt some spiritual lessons that day.

Since that time, I have moved around Nigeria. As a travel writer some years ago, I toured round the country. In fact, apart from Taraba, Gombe, Bornu, Adamawa, Ekiti and Bayelsa States, I have been to every state in Nigeria. And each time I travelled I learnt many good things about people from each part of the country and rid my mind of some of the stereotypes about them.

Many Nigerians do not travel around the country and this is one of our problems. That is why you hear some people believe that Igbos wake their father up in the morning by kicking them. Funny as this may sound, many of them believe it. I have heard some say that their ethnic group is the most accommodating of all ethnic groups in Nigeria. I usually laugh off the claim. How can one know how accommodating others are by staying put in one’s cocoon?  

While in Kabo I saw firsthand how honesty thrives among the ordinary Northerners. I had gone to the village market to buy foodstuffs, and after buying a bottle of groundnut oil (kili-kuli brand) from a young girl at the cost of N45 I offered her N60 and later N70. But she rejected the money and collected her oil. Both of us could not understand each other as she didn’t know how to say N55 in English and I didn’t understand what it was in Hausa. Our dialogue of the deaf lasted for over 20 minutes until I left to call the village barber, who incidentally was Igbo. Not that he was the only barber in the village but he was the only barber in the village who used electric clippers in his shop. The guy, whom I have forgotten his name now, had to help me out. When we got to where the young girl was, they spoke in Hausa and he told me to give the young girl N45. I marvelled at such honesty— because it is rare in Southern Nigeria.

My university education in Akwa Ibom State also made appreciate the Ibibios and the Annangs. Erroneously called ‘Calabar people’, the impression in the country is that they are unintelligent and thrive better as professional home helps. And that was the impression I carried into the University of Uyo. But I was later to discover that they are as brilliant as they are accommodating. Industrious young men and women are not also in short supply there. But a person who has lived in his village all along without visiting any place outside his geo-political zone will never know about others. He will continue to believe the bedside stories his equally ignorant mother told him about other people.

I used to associate Ijebu-Ode with juju and other forms of diabolism. And I think this was the perception everybody who grew up in Aba had of them. I remember then that anyone, who was suspected of having evil powers, was said to have got his powers from Ijebu Ode. And so the first time I visited the town, I was expecting to see a sleepy, unkempt town with many footpaths leading to shrines. But I saw neat, lovely and inviting town. I was, indeed, pleasantly surprised during that visit. I have few friends from Ijebu Ode and they are jolly good fellows.

It’s time we did away with some of these stereotypes about the different peoples of our nation. Travelling and living among other people will help us build a better nation. Regrettably, many of the times, those who have the courage to live amongst other people are envied when the start prospering. They are accused of a lot of things and given bad names just to pull them down—and most of the times, it’s all because of envy. I pray and hope that before long our nation will appreciate the benefit of healthy rivalry.

The security challenges in the North, unfortunately, will limit travel to that part of the country. But I do believe that sooner or later, the North would be safer. Many of my friends who grew up in the North will always say that that is the best place to live in the country and they look forward to returning to Kaduna, Jos and Bauchi.

‘Landlord, travel and see’ is a song by a Ghanaian band, Super 7. It will not be a bad idea to release a song titled, ‘Nigerians, travel and see’.

 

 

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