How does it feel like to wake up in a new city after isolating for two weeks? Let’s start from the beginning, looking from outside within.
On the world map, right beside America is Canada, a big, huge land-mark-having-ass country with multiple timezones where each province bears different characteristics.
Image credit: George Osodi/Bloomberg
To the east is the country’s commercial capital, Toronto in Ontario, which on its best day is as ghetto as Lagos in its grime and cost of living. Close to the centre, Calgary, the Port Harcourt of the country, stands tall. After all, it’s where the oil is and where everyone seems to be an engineer working for an oil company.
Four hours away from Toronto, you’ll arrive in the capital city which bears some similarities to Abuja in its blandness and remoteness to all the cool events and things in Canada.
Still, Downtown Ottawa will give you a lot of Ikeja underbridge vibes since downtown in the West typically signifies the central and or commercial area of any major city. Busy as Lagos on a weekday where everyone appears to to be a merchant of something, from actual products to human features like “pinks lips” to services like quick windscreen washes by traffic vendors.
In your Air Bnb in Rideau, you’ll dream of living in Mafoluku, where a sense of quiet was a distant concept. Where people seemed to always step out to loudly announce their existence.
Getting lost in downtown will remind you of the joke you once made of how moving to Lagos was great until the smell of the Ojota dustbin at Ketu slapped you hard in the face. The smell of the shit you inhaled on the way back home from Yaba to Mowe stopped fading you as soon as you started making those
Still, you’ll be disgusted by the grime and dirt and wowed by the sheer number of stunning buildings and landmarks at the same time.
Crossing the road will give you anxiety for the first few weeks because unlike back at home, drivers won’t yell “Ko shi kuro lona, ki n ma gba iya e danu” while you walk briskly across the road. In the first few days, though, you’ll run like mad as soon as the sign signals safety to cross the road. Now, you’ll chuckle at the times you recited the entire Qur’an while crossing the express at Oshodi.
You’ll step in piss and wonder how a whole abroad has someone pissing on the road. You’ll imagine the possibility of hanging up the “urinate here and die an unfortunate death” signs you find in Lagos at this spot, but shake it off because Oyinbo no dey fear curse. A strange woman will walk up to you and ask you to drop her off somewhere, and you’ll be tempted to ask her “are you using jazz”?
You’ll see people who look like you begging people to spare a few CAD and your life will flash before your eyes. “Please, can I have a dollar for a smoke”, they’ll implore?
Leaving everything you know behind in search of a better life is easily the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. After writing so many exams and evaluation, employers in the country will still consider “their own” in colour and race, before giving an immigrant a shot.
And so, you’ll get over the initial shock of finding immigrants working a bulk of the “survival jobs” in western countries.
Your Uber driver, after asking how life in Nigeria is, will tell you how this is a side hustle for him. The “Are you my Uber?” gist will randomly pop up in your head and you’ll laugh at the silliness of the entire conversation.
You’d start to take the bus when you realize you spend a minimum of N5,000 for even the shortest trip on ride-sharing apps. Even Lekki to VI wouldn't cost that much, so on the bus, you go. Like in Danfos, you’d spend 2 hours on the commute to a 30-minute driving distance. But at least, no one is selling you penis-enlarging medication or preaching the gospel of hellfire at 6 am in the morning in a congested bus.
Then you’ll remember the conductor who told you how unemployment drove him to his current job despite having a B.Sc. In the present though, the Uber driver will narrate how he came here and how he was a surgeon or PhD holder back at home.
A street windscreen wiper who is black like you will try to wipe the screen of your Uber and the driver will wave him away, and memories of Lagos will flood back. Unlike in Lagos, where the young boy’s story seemed distant, here, you can imagine this black man’s journey, because somehow, that could be you in his shoes at any time.
Maybe this is why finding a handful of the homeless people in the streets of downtown will break your heart. Then, you’ll wonder if like you, they left home in the hopes of a better life and somehow ended up on the streets, with no home, no job and no money.
When you ask why, someone will associate them with drug-related addictions, a fact you’ll hold with a grain of salt since Nigerians are generally apathetic to the poor, homeless and underprivileged.
Like in Ikeja, you’d probably get chased by a mentally ill man in Rideau. He won’t be stark naked like those in Lagos, but he’ll terrify you regardless. Maybe he won’t bite like the naked man in Oja Oke almost did. But the concept will still leave you shaking a few hours after. The sharp contrast is that here, government-backed organisations volunteer their time and resources towards helping people like him.
In the midst of all the piss and chaos, though, you’d find the nicest restaurants and stores. Some non-black store owners will query your accent and ask stupid questions about corruption in Nigeria. You’d get weird stares from the Asian girl at the bodega down the street. You’ll take it all in and have a panic attack on your first day outside.
At the mall, you’ll find a number of young black people — from Haiti, Sudan, Senegal, Somalia and other African countries and wonder how they commune in this strange land. It won’t feel too white or as boring as it feels when you’re in Lokogoma or Gwarimpa — with oldies and their 2012 Mercedes-Benz E-Class cars. Or as mid-forties as the Nigerian Whatsapp groups with their dry jokes and memes.
With this in view, you’d be faced with difficult choices in this country, from job offers to the choice of residence, like everywhere else. Making the choice to live around more black people means you’d have to choose community, insecurity in some areas, cheaper rent and terrible parking.
On the other hand, you’ll consider living in the western part of Ottawa which means proximity to white people who do usually lack flavour, calm and quiet, a possibly better environment to raise kids, ridiculous commute hours and exposure to upward mobility if you network well.
While in a state of hope, you’ll dream of owning a country home in BC when you start raking in pounds and dollars (again, USD only) you deserve. Especially since Beyoncé only visits Vancouver and Montreal when she tours and you won’t kuku blame her, people in Ontario don’t really deserve nice things.
Until then, you’ll take long walks and take in your environment as much as you can. You’ll take many photos to remind you of an easier time before capitalism takes away the joy of exploring a new city. You’ll assure yourself that if you survived Maf-Town and Abuja, Ottawa shouldn’t be worse than those places.
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Ke ni nice day.