Igbo Connection.

I just thought to take a quick break from this lovely dissertation writing session I am tired as s*** of this. Shout out to Mista Ologo for the melodic gbedu that is currently tantalising my ears. So I do not do as much of sharing my experiences, especially when it pertains to my experience volunteering with the British Red Cross. So I shall seize the moment to do so! Today was especially tiring for me, as I am nearing the days of my cycle. note to self: more iron,Funmi. I was especially grateful for the phone call that whisked me away from the monotonous yet, needed BRM admin work. I mean compared to previous days, I was actually getting on with it fine, as I felt a burst of empowerment after logging in case notes for the third or fourth file. It definitely helped to have adjusted my work space - who knew the boosting up of a chair made so much of a difference in terms of energy provision that yielded an output of efficiency?! Your environment really plays a role in your success. 

So moving swiftly along as I do not have much time to allocate to this blog, I was more active in the morning when going on my first 'official' British Red Cross field assignment!

 Myself and three of my colleagues went to 'Stone Road' to distribute Primark clothing vouchers to persons with the referral form. A side note about 'Stone Road' - Stone Road Housing is apparently the in-between accommodation for asylum seekers as they await their dispersal to their Section 95 NASS accommodation. The living conditions are quite dire, and they are treated not necessarily like individuals but rather like objects, according to my colleague. I mean from what I experienced, it was not a total half-way house, but then again we were in the main reception, making use of the administrative office of 'Migrant Help' - a migration services charity that is conveniently located within 'Stone Road' (They do not own Stone Road, as it is a place owned by housing services like G4S - I think they do other things too, like security for the mall - I saw their van in town one day, and asked a colleague about it, and she said they have various operations within their company - wow, the side notes. This accommodation was contracted out by the Home Office (equivalent to USA's Department of Homeland Security... just kidding, there is no equivalent in the USA. But Home is Home, no? No.) I attended to a Nigerian today :)

I love Nigerians, and this lady had children. I mean being here, I really tend to tone down my 'oh you're Nigerian, I'm Nigerian too!" propensities because 1) The amount of Nigerians here, for obvious colonial historical reasons, makes it commonplace, sometimes (and in some contexts), tiring to be around Nigerians. Compared to the USA, it is quite hard to not share the same breathing space with a Nigerian in a given day (My roommate was Nigerian!) 2) I want to avoid the line of questioning that ensues after I establish a Nigerian connection in my American accent. It gets tiring having to explain to a bewildered Nigerian(-British) what the he** I'm doing here. so around April/May, I just stopped & now I just soak in my constantly being surrounded by Nigerians with bystanding silent awe (side smirk/pity eyes to the yoruba man on the bus today...it can pain) 3) & when it comes to specific encounters at the BRC, there's something about Nigerians and pride and their presence at BRC clinic is kind of an oppositional force to that image. So for their sake & my sake (I get embarrassed over someone's realised/unrealised embarrassment), I 'bo the asiri'(conceal the secret) sometimes (this 3rd point is my own opinion, it is not necessarily true/only true to a few individuals I've met)

 Today was meant to be as routine as possible, when it came to my "I peep a Nigerian (by the accent of course) , and I am about to assist him/her" tendencies. I could not hold it in, sha. I tried. When it got to the third or fourth form that was meant to be filled in order for the lady to enjoy the rest of her day with her children shopping at Primark, I blurted out in true, word-vomit style, "Where are you from in Nigeria?" "Ibo" "really? I'm Yoruba, my parents are Yoruba" (stumble rumble cos I'm excited tins) *..blah blah cos it's not really necessary can you speak yoruba....blahh blah yes...daadaa..blah blah*  *continue with quotation marks worthy dialogue* "I have a boyfriend, my boyfriend is ibo, he..blahh...Enugu" "Ah Enugu is a lovely place, you can get fruits etc. from there" *Take note of the ibo connection, hence the title. What is more interesting to note is the fact that when I asked her where she was from in Nigeria, she said "Ibo". Brings much questions to the forefront, as it relates to nation-state construction in Africa.

 Ok! Adieu!

 OLU FUNMILAYO.

 You are powerful. Don't ever let anyone or anything reduce you to making the mistake of thinking otherwise.