FEATURE ARTICLE


Tonye David-West, Jr., Ph.DTuesday, October 3, 2000
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Political Scientist
USA


NAIJA ROONEY COMMENTARY
HOW NIGERIANS IN THE U.S. CELEBRATE OCTOBER 1ST


this past weekend has surely been very profitable for a lot of businesses, especially in cities such as Houston, New York, Boston, Washington DC, Seatle, Miami, Raleigh, Buffalo, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas, Cincinnati, Columbus [Ohio], Memphis, St. Louis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Oakland, Indianapolis, Minneapolis, Cleveland, and in many other cities where Nigerians have been found aplenty. Infact, so commercialized are the events that most businesses count the profit they would make from Nigerian groups this anniversary weekend well in advance. They know that Nigerians have money, they also know that most of the Nigerian associations in the U.S. charge their members very handsome dues. The association here in my city charges $120 per family and $75 per person for the entire year. That is not inclusive of monies paid to attend anniversary events. The dues are paid just to have one's name in the roster. When you attend the event, they ask for donations. But as we know it, "donation" is voluntary except when it comes to Nigerian events--that is the only place donations are compulsory.

Just the other day, I was talking to a lady who owned an African market and she was very hopeful that she would make huge profit, enough to cover her loses for the entire year. She indicated that the Nigerian group in her city has always bought food items from her and that she usually marks up the price knowing that they really do not have much choice. She was kind enough to tell me that her profit this year from Nigerian groups alone was over $8,000. My goodness, that is almost a million naira.

And in cities, such as the one I live in, the Nigerians here have three associations, one for professionals [and titled Nigerians] and another for non-professionals--what a shame. Then the women also have their group because they claim to have been marginalized by the men. So they broke out and formed a club where they discuss women's issues and how to be a good wife and mother. So in this city alone, there are three Nigerian groups, all celebrating the anniversary of one country within a few miles of each other. Sometimes, they could even hear each other's event as they often rent party halls in the same hotel. I wonder when the children are going to break out and form their own wing. Perhaps, they should call it the "Baby Eaglets" club. When guests from other countries are invited, their hosts are often seen in the parking lot waiting to direct them to the right gathering.

When the day [October 1st] actually comes, Nigerians are at their best. They wear their Sunday best, most wearing it for the first time in the year. Some go and buy expensive suits to impress that beautiful lady who just came from Nigeria. They heard she is single and "looking". Some go and rent big cars from Hertz, Avis, and other rental companies and drive into the parking lot of the event in style, to give the impression to everyone that the good times have not left them behind. Two years ago, I and some friends were in the parking lot of one such event when a fellow drove into the parking lot in a 1998 Lincoln Continental. Only the week before, some of us saw him in his 1983 Toyota Camry, the kind that had skin cancer and seemed to be pieced together with bumble gum and scotch tape.

Shocked at this sudden improvement, we all rushed to him to inspect the car and give our approval. "O' boy, ebi like say you don land OOOO"? Said one guy and the driver in his new agbada responded, "We thank God, all glory to him who gives blessing." As he drove into a safe parking spot, someone noticed the "E" emblem of Enterprise Rent-A-Car firmly affixed to the back of the car and called our attention to it. All through the event, the guy not knowing that we had uncovered his secret continued to boast and told tales of his phantom economic progress. We listened curiously to his concocted stories.

Nigerian ambassadors and diplomats and mayors of US cities are not left out in this craze. Most are flown to other cities [or invited] to give boring speeches to their fellow citizens about a country that is on its dying bed. They praise the country, nationalism kicks in. This is the only day when Nigerians know no ethnic groups as they come together and celebrate. Wine is bought, goat meat aplenty, not to mention garri and pounded yam. Egusi soup seems to be the soup of choice for Nigerians in my city. This past weekend, even before the go-ahead was given to eat, the egusi soup was finished and men started accusing the women of not cooking enough knowing fully well that the men love egusi soup. I got one thing to say to the men, how about cooking your own egusi soup? Moi moi is also another dish that has people going amuck. Most eat it with jollof rice and others just eat it alone. This year, someone brought a keg of palm wine--don't ask me where he got it. But he was given a special recognition for his contribution of palm wine. Needless to say that the palm wine was gone even before the egusi soup and when those who kept naija time were told that they had just missed the keg of palm wine, they became very upset and accused the leaders of hiding the fact that palm wine was on the wine list. One guy said if he had known, he would have been on time. Does he go on time to work because of palm wine?

Heaven forbid that the women are left out in this orgy of festivities. They dress so flamboyantly that one would think they are going for a beauty contest. On this anniversary weekend, the local Wal-Mart here usually runs out of starch as the women buy all the available starch to starch their head-gears. They spend hours in front of the mirror, they rub, they paint, they powder and they clip their eye lashes, they manicure their nails and curl their hair. They tie their wrappers, often times asking their daughters and husbands, "how do I look?" One husband blaming his wife for their late coming said that he would buy another car that way he can head out and leave her behind to come whenever she is ready.

After several hours in front of the mirror and after being satisfied that they look like a million bucks, they would step out of the house carefully, bending down to make sure that the doorpost does not hit their head-gear. They take several minutes to enter the car, they negotiate their entrance into the car, making sure that their head-gear is in place. Sometimes, their husbands help them into the car and other times, he is in the driver's seat, very impatient, hissing and ready to press the accelerator. When they finally arrive the anniversary hall, they again, negotiate their exit from the car very carefully and enter the hall hoping to see what mama Kayode or mama Emeka has on. They often whisper to the other women by them that "I don't believe it, her husband is a doctor and see what she is wearing." And the other women would often answer, "him bring the woman from home with no education and no job, wetin you want her to wear. She be ordinary housewife, ibi?

They would go around to compare their outfits with the other women's. They would salute each other and say, "Mama bomboy, how you dey? How work? How your husband? Him still dey sleep with that small girl wey dey work for that nursing home?" "See my trouble, OOO," the other women would respond. "The day I see that ashawo for my house, I go show em pepper. She want break my marriage." How about showing your husband pepper for obliging the ashawo? You see your husband everyday, don't you? They would have small talks and gossip a little while their husbands are busy arguing about politics, what Okadigbo did, what Obasanjo said and what who said, etc.

When the occasion begins, there would be singing of the national anthem. Everyone would get up, the men would take off their hats. This is when nationalism begins. Everyone is proud to be a Nigerian. They sing as the anthem comes to an end. Then there would be plays and dancing by the children. Usually, the same old tired play that has been recycled year after year. Do the organizers really think we have short memories? Do they think we cannot remember what the children did last year? Then the boring speeches would begin followed by presentations by the association to its members for contribution. They scratch each others backs. This year you get it and next year I will. This is when titles would fly around the hall. You dare not miss the title of someone or that would signal the beginning of World War III. Nigerians love their titles. The hold it dear to their heart. To some, its even more important than their families. Dr. this, Chief this, Prince this, Engr. that, Barrister this. No one wants to be Mr or Mrs anymore. Even those not titled in academia would claim that they are princes and princesses or chiefs since that is a little harder to disprove. They say or my father is the uncle of the uncle of the chief and that makes me prince or princess or royal, etc.

After the titles have been announced and all the titled men and women have been satisfied that the whole congregation is aware of their title. They would then auction off the "ise-ewu" and the highest bidder would take his price home. This is another avenue for Nigerians to show their worth as this year, a crummy "isi-ewu" went for a hefty $570. Now, that can but more than fifty goats. Then the part all have been waiting for would arrive---the dancing. First, they would play "Sweet Mother" as that seem to be the song that appeals to all. If I was given a penny each time I heard that song at Nigerian events, I would have been rubbing shoulders with Bill Gates by now. All would immediately migrate to the floor, especially the women, who would leave behind whatever they are doing to have their moment on the floor. This is a moment for their husbands and children to appreciate them---their husbands would come to the floor and spray them in the true Nigerian way. The women would systematically seize the floor and dance as their husbands continue to spray them. They would shake their "Ikembe", most with white cloths in their hands and soon they would form a conga line and overwhelm the moment with their assorted steps and seductive endeavors.

Then the DJ would change the tune a little bit. He would play more highlife, like Zanza or Oriental Brothers or even Toni OneWeek's song called "Gyrate". This song seem to uproot the audience as all, even grandmothers who have just arrived from Nigeria, would assume the floor and dance their life away. They would dance, dance and dance. It would seem that they have no worries, that life was all rosy. Its a time to forget about the bills, the immigration problem, the letters from home asking for money, that troublesome teenager who has taken to drugs, the cheating husband, the troublesome mother-in-law who just arrived. Its time to indulge in some festivities, its time to celebrate the birthday of a country which is suffering from a terminal illness. The next day, reality would set in, Nigeria is one year older, but still a fool, a misdirected fool. So all these festivities to celebrate corruption, nepotism, ethnic strife, religious intolerance and what have you in the name of independence. Independence from what? If all these funds spend to celebrate independence are sent to Nigeria to strengthen its economy, we would truly have independence in all its facets. Until then, Nigerians, keep celebrating, keep dancing to "Gyrate" while your country is "gyrating" from disease, crime, corruption and imminent death. Soon, you will be an expert in "gyrating", but then, you would have no country to return to when you are old and withered and your body could no longer "gyrate."

Happy birthday, Nigeria.

Join me next time for another edition of Naija Rooney Commentary. Until then, this is Tonye David-West, Jr., signing off and saying, so long, my worthy compatriots.