I started this post with the thought: What to write about when you don’t know what to write about. The question is not what to write about, it’s where to begin. So I did what many writers would do, write, sometimes without a destination. My mind has been in a lot of interesting places lately, from random conversations with strangers to chats with Uber drivers. If you’re reading this, hello and welcome to 2022. It’s my first blog post this year so no, you didn’t read the date wrongly. Good things do take time.

If you’re a first time reader, welcome to my blog. Feel free to browse around and find a short story. Or some content on marketing. Or read about me. To my old readers, this is me saying thank you for relocating with me to Canada. Welcome to Maple land, and here’s to achieving more greatness together.

I moved to Canada in May 2022 and of the many brave things I have done in my life, this is so far the biggest. It meant packing about 9 years marketing career, transplanting my entire life and liquidating assets. It isn’t as easy as these sentences make it. Many said “But you have a great career in Nigeria, why are you leaving?” Yet many others have said, “Oh wow, you are so lucky. Good move!” This post is not to rehash Nigeria’s bad economic policies, growing insecurity, little investment in human and capital development nor the repercussions of bad governance. There are too many details of those online.

When I first arrived in Canada , I found it weird that people wondered that my English is perfect. I have had to educate many that English is Nigeria’s and that meant English education at every school stage. Interestingly, French is also our second official language (thanks to our French-colonized neighbours). It would seem that I’m not giving credit to my first and graduate degrees, however I am. Yet that’s beside the point. The point is that the average educated Nigerian can communicate in English better than some first language speakers that I have met. In fact, we would consider you ‘razz’ or of a ‘lower’ status if you can’t speak English fluently.

Since I’ve been here, it’s been quiet. Who would have thought that I’d miss the Lagos buzz and the chaos? Yet, choose to live in a quiet and small town, a beautiful contrast from Lagos. The weather is different too, like NEPA. One minute the sun is up and the next, you’re hugging your windbreaker. I miss the small things. Like walking across my Estate to buy chicken or fish in kilos. Or buying vegetables and oranges off the roadside or at the food market. These days, I’m at least 23 minutes walk away from the closest store and I can’t even price (Chi’mo). Wahala for who no get motor!

The best way to learn about a place is from its people – residents and visitors alike. And one of the blessings that public transit in Canada has afforded me is listening to the stories of strangers. The stories fade and change as you listen, and depends on who you listen to. It’s like being at the theatre and seeing lights fade on a scene and lights come on simultaneously for a different scene on the same stage. For many first generation immigrants, it’s nostalgia. For their second and third generations, most often, it’s dissociation. You can tell the difference between an immigrant and a Canadian born of immigrants. While one is centred in self from a culture perspective, more introspective, less expressive, constantly mentally filtering for tone, meaning, language and approach; the other is more expressive and without the barriers foisted by a second language. The latter spends time trying to fit in, constantly fighting association with that unknown other home. It’s clash of languages, values and culture of that ‘other’ country their parents or grandparents came from. Firsters have identity, we have culture. We can tell exactly what is missing and what we miss. We have memories of a place where 99.9% of the people look just like us. We did not grow up in places where we contend with visibly divisive factors like skin colour. We are not trying to belong, we simply do. And so we carry through that confidence of millions of people whom we now represent in a distant land. The next generation have only memories of the new country and are constantly aware of that visible difference. They are now the minority and they deal with all the implications of it with not much of the mental strength for it.

I miss the constant burst of Yoruba around me, and pidgin. I listen out for it. And on days when I catch it in a public place, I smile. A reminder that home is just as close. The other day at the DriveTest Centre, a woman overheard me speaking Yoruba over the phone. She had brought her teenage daughter for her test. She came over to say hello and we swapped a few chats in Yoruba.

Canada is beautiful in its own ways – economic opportunities, melting pot of cultures and people, a vibrant migrant economy, a level ground, a working infrastructure. I have met kind people and I have seen people goodness. Where in Nigeria, wealth is a matter of cash and you can build a fake impression depending on your social circle, where you live and places you visit, Canada gives you access to huge credit and only your bank would be the wiser. Or someone with access to your credit history. The country is yours to discover.

There’s a secret ingredient to learn from Asians. Regardless, how long they’ve lived in a place or if they’ve never been back home, they do not lose their culture. We Nigerians raise our children to be Anglicized. We proudly say “Oh, they can’t speak our dialects but they understand it” or “Don’t speak our dialects to them, it will spoil their English.” We forget that we transfer culture and identity and values through language. And these children grow up not belonging here or there, they spend an entire lifetime searching for belonging.

I am learning that the distance from one city to another is not the distance Google Maps shows you, it is the number of buses and wait times it would take you to get to your destination. There’s an individual experience to commuting and on the buses, many people simply want an opportunity to speak. A simple good morning or I’m trying to get to XYZ could have someone unburdening 5 years of their life to you. The other day I met a second generation at the station. He had an interesting story, and a wandering insight to life. He told me he did all his travelling on YouTube, however he loved Johannesburg and he hoped he’d win the lottery some day and visit there. I told him he’d love it and wished him the best.

Lately, I spend time trying to establish my pre-Canada routines. On weekends, I sometimes go swimming. Sometimes, I read some of the few books I brought with me. I miss Lagos owambe and weekends at Landmark beach and theatre evenings at Radisson Blu, VI. I miss dressing up for weddings that I do not have invitations to and having the time of my life. Nigerian weddings are a vibe.

This journey has been fascinating, and I am only just starting.