I was very recently told that I seem ‘quite British’. I smiled, nodded and moved on. Because what they actually meant to say was that there was nothing distinctly ‘African’ about me. My background is no shape or form underprivileged; I don’t have a noticeable accent which makes words sound different from how they are actually meant to sound, and I don’t like lions or tigers any more than the next man.
In truth, there’s nothing ‘British’
about me. I don’t like tea; or Coronation Street; or roast potatoes much
to the dismay of my friend, Charlotte. But for the simple fact that I
am not clearly ‘different’ from the average English person, suddenly
makes me ‘British’.
I’m a Nigerian who has been faced with
the challenges every enlightened Third-World produce is exposed to if
they move abroad. I get asked the most bizarre things on a semi-regular
basis. When I first moved to England, I got asked everything from
whether or not there were banks and cash machines in ‘your country’, to
whether I was met at the airport with dancers holding spears and
shields. I’ve had the “I’m from Nigeria” quickly followed by “Oh, I
always wanted to go on a safari trip”, as though those two go naturally
together.
I’ve had people who have no real
understanding of the words, toss “tribal” and “ethnic” into
conversations with me, as though ‘ethnicity’ is something strictly
synonymous with foreigners. On one occasion (and I tell this story all
the time), I was asked if I lived in a hut (this is not a joke). The
person who asked this then followed the question which a long, hearty
laugh, claimed to be teasing and begged me not to be offended. The
absolute nerve. Still, emotions aside, I most definitely picked up on
the main point in that ridiculously offensive question. And I must say
that I am honestly fed up of this ‘cultural characteristic’ of Africans
as helpless, unfortunate victims. The ones who are enlightened enough to
understand that we don’t all walk miles to fetch a keg of water are but
a handful. As a result of it, we are subjected to the irritating
amazement of strangers when a story is told of having a driver or going
bowling with friends instead of dancing under the moonlight in the
village square.
The media feeds us day-in-day-out with
information about issues, people and places that are unknown to us and
we subconsciously absorb it and form our beliefs on these basis. And
that is very scary, because what is out there is thoroughly lacking in
diversity. As beneficial a thing as they are, I can’t stand charity
adverts. You know, the typical save-the-dying-African-kid sort,
accompanied by the slow, sorrowful music to pull on post-colonial heart
strings. Amazingly, I still used to donate to certain charities monthly,
but only for personal reasons. Whatever the original intention, they
have the ability to dehumanise and reduce people to great extent. They
paint pictures of hopelessness and despair, almost to the point where
anyone watching would probably feel like they would burn in Hell if they
did not spare “just £2” every month. ‘Africanness’ and poverty have
become like peas in a pod. It is the unspeakable danger of a one-sided
story.
In a CNN interview, Chimamanda Adichie
spoke of the director of a young African writer’s workshop, saying
“Somebody – an English man, an ‘Africanist’ – was telling you what your
story was…an African story had to be overtly political, it had to deal
with violence or poverty…you couldn’t write about people falling in love
because its minor. In Africa, terrible things are happening.” She then
goes on to add “They’re human beings as well who are laughing, and
cooking, and working, and finding ways to keep their dignity.” Well, not
according to mainstream media.
Let me be perfectly clear; I am not in
any way trying to underestimate the hardship of millions of Africans all
around the continent, who really do have difficult lives. My point is
that we are not all in the same position and that should never be taken
for granted, just because of some bored international celebrity who
wants to use the starving Africans as avenue to get a double-page spread
in a magazine. There are countless people in countless countries around
the world who are underprivileged.
So after oodles of frustrating
conversations, I made my decision. I began to sit very quietly in talks
and seminars about The Act of Thanksgiving, and carefully watch as the
first picture that comes up on the PowerPoint is a poor, helpless
Ugandan child. And I patiently smiled and nodded (it’s my thing) when
someone seemed astonished when I told them how I’d like to move back to
Nigeria because “England isn’t for everyone”. And when someone exclaimed
at my never having seen an elephant in my entire life, as though they
casually strolled through my backyard, I’d give a little laugh and
express how incomplete my life is as a result.
Have you had any experiences similar to
these? Do you agree with the notion that the depiction of Africans is
skewed? Let’s get talking!
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