Today, I saw a LinkedIn notification drop on my phone. Although I am officially off that App now, I was curious when I saw the name.
There was a photo taken at a park within my old neighbourhood back in Nigeria.
Staring at that photo, nostalgia-layered memories surged. For a moment, I was instantly transported back to the sights and sounds of that area?
Later, while in the shower, I ruminated over how a single post could evoke such emotions. Simultaneously, a thought tugged at the corner of my heart;
“Do you think someone else who does not have your relationship with that park can feel this same way
Of course, the answer was a resounding “No”.
And that was how I resolved to complete this half-finished article dumped in my content jar for weeks now.
There are things you cannot explain to someone. Not for want of words but because they cannot process it.
Their brain cannot conjure the colours. And if you decide to splatter the shades on yourself, the painting would still remain abstract to them.
Let me tell you this story of Diane, a Scottish woman whose memoirs I read. She married a Nigerian doctor who came to school Scotland in the 60s. Afterwards, they moved back to Nigeria, barely a few years before the Biafran civil War.
After the war the family moved to Lagos and lived at Bombay Crescent, Apapa.
Years later, her sister, Lynne, from Scotland, went to visit. One day they went shopping at Leventis stores. But, as they walked, Lynne kept up a pace which Diane could not match. She mentioned that Lynne kept stopping, looking back and asking why she was dawdling like an old lady.
Diane on her part was pissed at Lynne and wondered why she was speed-walking. She then explained to her that in Nigeria, the sun is scorching. This prompts pedestrians to move at a slower pace to minimise sweating. That it is unlike the temperate climate back home.
A similar incident repeated when Diane went to visit Scotland. They were out again and Lynne wanted to know why she kept crossing to the other side of the street. Diane pointed out that the sun shines only on one side of the road and she wanted the sun. Asking if Lynne did not notice that back at Nigeria, the sun shines on both sides of the road?
Diane wrote that this incident opened her eyes to how different their worlds had become. Two sisters from the same natal family, yet only a few years of living in another world and they were now different.
She was pissed at her sister tagged her insensitive. To her own self, she posed a question hoping she was not as clueless and insensitive as Lynne to things outside her circles?
I would leave you to think up the response.
So on this day, I got into the bus and ambled towards the back for a seat. Then, heart pounding, legs frozen, I stopped short. Sprawled across the aisle was a mutt. Same brown colour blending in with the bus.
“Oh, he won’t harm you, come on”
I stared at them both. None of them moving any muscle. I simply retreated to the front of the bus for another seat. For emphasis, I always prefer to leave the front for those classes who require it most.
How do you let a large dog lie across the aisle on a public bus and then reassure me that I could clamber over it? Do you not consider that a tad insensitivity?
It wasn’t even muzzled.
At the next stop, a similar incident repeated. An Asian group boarded the bus and, just like me, almost ran into the dog then, out of fear, turned away. With the same response from the owner:
“Oh no, he won’t hurt you. He is quite friendly.”
I only shook my head at her level of ignorance.
For starters, does she realise that majority of Africans, Asians and all others in-between are cynophobes and dogs are not pets for us?
They are security animals which we have been conditioned to dread because they terrorise us. They are trained to attack anyone who they do not know. A dog-owner host would ensure they are out of the way before a guest arrives
Meanwhile, she made no move to move her dog out of the way. It lay sprawled across the aisle of a public bus like it was her lounge. I would think the rational act would be to move the dog inside while she sat on the outside. Especially after those two encounters.
Although it may be her friendly dog, what I see nevertheless is a beast with a history of attacking strangers or owners. Biting off body parts. A brute so powerful that when it charges, it would not listen to and can throw off the strongest of owners.
There had been two other incidents of a dog harassing me out there.
One of those instances was days after a chemo treatment. I took a morning prayer walk towards the sea. Then as this man and his dog approached, the dog began barking and coming at me. I relaxed in the knowledge that this was England where dogs listen to their owners and
The full article was published on Medium. Read for free here