The first few days were slow. I would literally just sit down on my computer or phone and chat with people. There was of course some paperwork to be completed: getting our ID card, opening a bank account, obtaining a new sim card, and physically reporting to the office to announce our presence, not that folk at the university didn’t know of our arrival.
The slowness, however, is by Nigerian standards. Things were moving according to the American imagination. I just didn't know. Most of my work in those days involved spending hours on emails. I used to wonder how things are moved via email until I joined the rhythm of American work system, and even more so galvanized by the Coronavirus pandemic that requires that you make virtual appointments for almost everything, which is why you don’t waste time at a bank or any office for any business that takes you there. The American customer service is great. You can do many things on the phone or email in a just few minutes. You wonder what kind of replica they brought to Nigeria.
But things began to change as the days for the start of the semester rolled in, with virtual orientations and a few in-person events. There would be an event almost every other day. On a certain day I sat in front of my computer 8am to 4pm with only some interspersing short breaks. I couldn’t help thinking the conditions that allowed this. Somewhere in this world, achieving this would be a herculean task. People in this world know about NEPA issues and fuel and generator and the noise from family or neighbors or a sudden visit of a relative that would never guarantee long hours in a meeting.
At first, venturing around campus came with a little confusion. I grappled with the geography and figuring out the bus system and the right bus stops. There was a day I wanted to attend a meeting in one of the halls but couldn’t locate the venue. Even when the map was telling me this way, I was going the other way. However, I can be forgiven if I ignore the map and manually seek human assistance. We’re at the periphery of technology, due, largely, to incompatible physical environment, which of course makes us not give our trust and power to these technologies. Example: There was a little turbulence while flying to the US from Nigeria. Nigerians shouted and called God. When such happened on our way from Atlanta to Madison, nobody batted an eye.
Modern technology is built upon existing conditions that the environment offers. The metro system and online stores work as they do because of street zip coding and house numbering system.
One can feel the acute difference, not just by skin color – which of course I do not give a damn and which I am so proud of – but by your confusion upon contact with a system that defined basic modernity and civilization lacking in your home-country. You look at yourself and look at others and feel bad. You send the curse to the right quarters. I understand why Diaspora Nigeria is more stringent in her criticism of leadership of the home-country. Other foreign nationals can have certain comfort. Even if they don’t send one of their own to the moon, they know their government is doing something to their people.
At first, I thought everyone was looking at me for my confusion. A lot more people feel the same than I realized, even Americans who moved here from other states to study. The only difference is that they don’t ask question and their confusion was overshadowed by the confidence of being the “sons of the soil.” Some other nationals may have been familiar with some of these planned developments in their countries. Overall, the Americans and other aliens feel the same but rely on their phones in place of human assistance.
Over reliance on digital technology in modern American culture created and encouraged public reservedness. You don’t need to ask questions in many cases, for two things: doing so would make you appear unintelligent, unable to navigate the world of technology around you. Second, the laws here make people extremely careful. You don’t know what talking to strangers would lead you into, which created a kind of carefulness that is exceedingly polite. In Naija, if I talked to you and it leads to something even the police would side with me when I say “na just talk I dey talk!” And not the police, that is the law enforcement agent, it’s the street folks that would say, “Just go.”
But talk to Americans, they would light up, ready to help. You're right if you are guessing why…
Madison, WI
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