Assuming the choice existed, I had often asked myself which country on Earth would suit me for naturalisation or a permanent residency? And as many times as the question popped in my head, the answer had remained the same – United States of America (USA).
My hunger for a sojourn in God’s Own Country had begun right from primary school in the 1970s when, as a child, I saw some of our brothers return from abroad, particularly the US and Canada, in fashions that were then regarded as very glamorous.
They had been mostly dressed in superior quality jeans clothing with braided hair styles and some even wore earrings like women, suggesting their return from a culture that tolerated behaviours which were still considered extremely abhorrent down here. The women among them freely wore shorts and trousers which had also not become popular here. If they came over with their cars, such became another point of attraction as the vehicles were usually larger than our local rides and also carried more stylish number plates.
The desire to travel to America had followed me to secondary school where it burned with greater intensity. Sincerely, this may have accounted for Geography making it easily into a shortlist of my favourite subjects. My appetite for reading and viewing anything about America was simply gargantuan.
I finished my O-level and went on straight to obtain a degree in one of Nigeria’s federal universities. This was preparatory to relocating permanently to America to pursue higher studies. But before I could finish my degree examination, a certain Major-General Muhammadu Buhari had been announced as the new military head of state following a successful coup d’état in Lagos.
In his maiden address to the nation as Head of State, Buhari had advised people like me who wanted to jet out of Nigeria for greener pastures abroad to rather remain and join hands to salvage a country that was already in the doldrums. I had listened to him. I guess I believed he had a point. And so, I began to think like a true patriot by playing down my lust for another man’s country. To achieve this, I quickly reversed myself and began to search out the bad in anything American.
I saw pictures of New York City. The Manhattan skyline. The Statue of Liberty and what it stood for. They were quite amazing. But, somehow, something still scared me. Yes, it was the skyscrapers and my fear of heights (acrophobia). Climbing up would have posed no problem but I tried to imagine looking down from such dizzying heights. And after that, I knew the city wouldn’t hold much comfort for me. Again, I am very much averse to cold weather conditions. Looking out the window every winter morning and seeing that endless stretch of snowy fields is certainly not my idea of paradise on Earth. So, that ruled out New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Washington DC, and other major cities on the Atlantic East Coast.
Chicago, Detroit, Indianapolis and a few others lie a bit to the north central; just along what the Americans refer to as the Main Street or the industrial Mid West. They are all beautiful cities in their own rights. In fact, Chicago is ranked as the country’s third largest cosmopolitan city after New York and Los Angeles.
Like the earlier mentioned North East and Mid Atlantic cities, settlements in the Mid West also suffer long winters. Added to this is that the place falls within the nation’s Tornado Alley. This means that these cities are often harassed by huge destructive whirlwinds, informally called twisters. Although the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) issues early tornado alerts, the devastation that is usually left in the wake of such disasters can be quite enormous and highly expensive to fix. I certainly do not wish to die in a furious maelstrom. And so, that eliminated Chicago and co.
The pictures I saw of Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle and some other big cities on the Pacific West Coast were also awesome. I heard the general climate over there was mostly sunny even though less temperate than what we have here in Nigeria. But the snag is that the region is largely prone to perennial earthquakes and bushfires. These are among the natural disasters for which I still harbour morbid fears.
Now, welcome to the south of USA where lies Dixieland. This region is literally regarded as the homeland of African Americans. Houston, New Orleans, Atlanta and Miami are some of the popular urban centres in the area. Of course, its huge Black population should suggest that racial segregation still thrives in the place. The dreaded White supremacist group, Ku Klux Klan, is not likely to boast of a larger presence anywhere else.
As for Miami and the other southern cities located on the Atlantic fringes, including those bordering the Gulf of Mexico, tropical hurricanes can be major causes of periodic distress. And I doubt if I will fancy enduring frequent flight cancellations or being advised to evacuate from my residence every so often.
That Buhari’s military government was soon toppled by Brigadier-General Ibrahim Babangida is now history. What matters now is that the man is back in the saddle. And, even in civilian toga, he had again requested Nigerians to believe in their country. But while some of us had since abandoned our dreams of overseas sojourn and have remained to help develop the fatherland, including its hospitals, Mr. President still prefers to travel for medical treatment in the same foreign lands we were cajoled to avoid. So, who is the loser here?
In fact, I imagined that Buhari had finished me. He should have left me to travel and learn to live with the segregations, earthquakes, bushfires and all the vagaries of American weather than stay back in a country where, even with the best of geography, cries of hunger, stagnation, insecurity and secession continue to gnaw at my soul every day.

By: Ibelema Jumbo