Where we belong

From the Vanguard

It was a pleasant surprise when an acquaintance told me that her son who had
emigrated abroad in the mid-nineties, to escape the social upheaval and
encroaching hard times in the country, had returned to roost.

We all had a hard time trying to convince him then that Nigeria will climb
out of the abyss and that he had to hang on in here with the rest of us to
do his share of pulling her out. Like many young people, he thought we were
being sentimental about a hopeless case. "I'm sorry mum, auntie; I have to
obey an inner voice," he had told his mother and me. "All I see around me is
rot and continuing decay. There's no justice anywhere and no-one, absolutely
no-one, cares about the plight of the poor like us."

"You're far from being poor," I told him. "You have a good job with lots of
prospects and you're lucky that there are no financial demands on you. Think
of the thousands of unemployed young graduates in our midst who, several
years after graduation, are still depending on their parents and relatives
for survival."

"I think of them, auntie, and I feel that those who can get out should do
so. I'm disenchanted with everything. Bad roads, no light, no water, no good
transport system; there's danger everywhere you turn.

If you're one of the lucky ones and you have a good means of livelihood, you
have to look over your shoulder with every step you take.

In short, you can't enjoy your good fortune because of those who don't have,
even though you're not responsible for their plight and you're just getting
by yourself. What sort of life is that? I want no part of it as it is right
now. I don't want to remain in a sinking boat."

"Life's not necessarily better abroad," observed the mother. "The people
over there are groaning about unemployment, inflation and danger to lives
and property. Then you also have the natural disasters too. Home is home,
whichever way you look at it. You get more justice in your own country."

"Who says?" asked the youngman, with sarcasm. "Where I work, unworthy people
are promoted over your head if you don't lick the boss's boots. If it isn't
tribal discrimination, it's ethnic discrimination or something else. Anyway,
you always say, make hay while the sun shines, mum, so, this is the time to
get out. I think I'm right. Life isn't perfect abroad, but at least you get
the basic necessities of constant light, water, good road, and a civilised
life. Those are important."

The youngman was born in Europe so visa was not a problem. From time to
time, the mother gave me news of him. He did a short course in his field,
so, that he could get a job with case. At first, he was contented with his
lot, even though he complained about the heavy tax he had to pay as a
bachelor; forty per cent of his salary! Also, he was not being trusted fully
by his employers to perform well. They put him under the supervision of an
indigene who was not as competent or as qualified as he.

"Never mind that, son," his father told him over the telephone. "It's their
land. Just get on with your duties and try to be happy."

"You're right, dad. Mind you, life's good otherwise. I have constant light,
water, and good roads. There are good programmes on radio and the telly and
the shops are well stocked. I have friends of all races. My social life is
great. I go to the parks, the beach, the countryside, etc."

"Fine, enjoy yourself responsibly, son."

"Thanks, dad. I wish you, mum and my siblings could come and live here too."

"No, thank you. We'll slug it out here with the others. When we can afford
it, we'll come and visit, that's all."

"So, what brought him back?" I asked the mother. "Your cooking? His
girlfriend? His family? Or was he er, er...

"No, he wasn't thrown out, neither did he lose his job. Thank God for that.
What made him come home was hearing that three ex-classmates of his had been
elected around the country into the House of Assembly. He was dazed.
Suddenly, he realised that at thirty-two, he could contribute meaningfully
to national development, if he sticks around. Also, he realised that he
stands a better chance of getting on in his career here, and can be in a
position to go spend vacation abroad. Oh, and so many other things. Luckily,
his organisation re-absorbed him. He now agrees that home is home, and that
if people in the developed countries had emigrated to greener pastures,
there would be no development in their land."

I agree totally with that last bit. Our young people emigrate abroad to go
do those jobs which they consider menial here, and they get all the
harassment and insecurity that go with such jobs. I know that the foreign
currencies make all the difference, but why run away and leave the running
of the country to others to do, as they like with? When the competent
abandon ship, the incompetent will rule. Once upon a time, the desire of
most young people was to go study abroad, get the golden fleece as it were,
and then return home to use the knowledge acquired for a better living. We
can still continue to do that.

In fact, our institutions and parastatals should make provision for this. It
will help our development. Parents should encourage our young people
studying abroad to return home after getting the relevant qualifications and
experience. We need them. They are our future.

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