Of dreams that brought us here and the First World problems

Sometimes we are shocked at the kinds of things the developed world complains about, or the kind of risky undertaking they buy into. People complain about unreasonable things. Theirs is a secured life. Hard physical labor - from laundry to sweeping - had been eliminated, not talk of food, water, electricity or security. Also, one need not to worry about insecurity for interstate travel like you should back in Nigeria. Causes of deaths have been greatly reduced. In most cases people die only when necessary. However, I worry about gun violence and my status as a black man in America.

Nonetheless, as big problems are eliminated, small things become the big issues. Living in America for just few months has come to reshape my experience. Of the biggest things that trouble me now is the size of my computer. I feel ashamed to pull out the computer in public when everyone is using sleek gadget. The size of your computer - and sometimes the brand of your phone - is a marker of differentiation. Travelling by air is no longer a luxury but an endeavor that presents certain worry in me, a concern about safety. I sometimes catch myself rebuking me for worrying about these excesses.

I spend over a hundred dollars every month on books. I feel guilty, almost bad, when I remember people back in Nigeria with me spending such “fortune” on books, and not on food.  I skip bath on some days, or just shower. There is no need for the daily bath anymore. I literally don’t have dirt on me anymore. I became over-sensitive to people’s feeling, over-sensitive to violence and gory images that people flagrantly share on social media.  Yes, some of these problems couldn’t be counted as problems in Nigeria. But once you’re here they become problems.

America lives in abundance, Nigeria in scarcity. Who in Nigeria considers too much food a problem? In a place where governors and ministers hoarded noodles and cooking oil meant for Covid-19 palliatives, “No one in the entire Nigerian public,” said a friend in our conversation.  But too much food begins to worry me, for instance, not that I eat much. I have reached a point where I eat only once a day. A tea and 3 slices of bread by noon, a small plate of rice at 6pm. In Nigeria this would come across as bad impression, either poverty or being miser to oneself. My not eating comes from a place of luxury, not wanting. It was for fear of adding weight.

All kinds of things I don’t know how to process or prepare – diced meat, granulated meat, assorted cans of vegetables. Sometimes I have to clear my fridge and take these things off to trash. In a way I feel that I’m starving in the midst abundance.

I came to America when my consciousness was fully formed. I feel limited by what the social and cultural environment offers. The crazy winter days cramp my mind.  The daily routine is almost the same. I began to worry about boredom, mental health and fitness. I craved for free time when I was in Nigeria. Here I am, feeling bored, with all the time in my hand, with all the luxury I prayed and craved for.

It’s the dream that brought us here…

 

Madison, WI