As a young woman who hasn’t been back to Nigeria since 2008, when you finally hear it through the airplane’s speakers that you’ve landed… it’s an indescribable feeling.

Now, I just have to get through customs…

“You’re our sister so why carry American passport? Eh?” The man behind the desk screamed at me. Still not trying to allow me to pass through.

“Where is your yellow card!?”

I cut my eyes at him and dryly replied, “I don’t have it.”

“Okay, no wahala (translates to No Problem), dash (translates to give) me $80 and we’ll let you pass”

As I let my eyes bulge, I screamed, “Excuse me? Why? I no have ’em! Let me pass joh!”

You see, I’m American born but Nigeria is in my blood.

You have to use what you know so that they don’t pull a fast one on you!

He stood there confused as I stood there angry. One of us had to give in but that wouldn’t be me. Though these are the times I wish my mommy was here, I’m grown now and it’s time to use what she’s taught me.

The lady standing over him glanced at us and looked impressed. Smacked him and pulled me aside. “Young lady, what I have in my hand is a yellow card, I will give it to you but it’s not free”

Still appearing confident in my stature, i stopped her before she could say anything else. Rolled up in my hand was a $20 bill that I made sure only she saw. I reached for the little yellow book from her, but she pulled back. “I’ll fill it for you. Then, you’ll write your name on it. Give me the money, and you’ll be on your way”

I sucked my teeth and nodded in agreement…

Finally, i was outside. Outside of the gates were families waiting for their people to get through customs, men looking for ways to make money (buying people calling cards, calling taxis for people, etc), and others who just wanted to position their heads between the brown bars to silently watch the commotion.

Trying to hide how nervous i was on the inside, i refused to step out the gate without knowing for sure that my ride was one of the cars there.

After a very long 30 minutes of not trying to make eye contact with anyone as I scanned through the crowd several times, my face lit up when I finally saw a familiar face. My mom’s younger brother, my uncle, waved at me as I waved back.

He grabbed my luggage and passed it off to a young boy then told me to follow the boy. I smiled and nodded. My uncle stayed behind briefly to discuss something with another man in the crowd.

As me and the kid walked, we stopped once we heard screaming and car horns. One guy pulled another guy from his car and started beating him. A lady sprung out of her seat, came around the car and tried to stop them with her screams.

I tapped the kid on his shoulder and said, “come on let’s go”…but he wanted to continue watching the fight. “I said let’s go! Please please biko!” We hurried to the car, I glanced behind us to make sure my Uncle was following. We loaded everything into the car and left.

The roads man, they are really something.

I live in LA. Which i had thought was the capital of traffic and bad drivers but I was wrong.

If you calculate it right, the ride from the airport to the house we were going to stay at should’ve been around 45 minutes. Instead, it took over 2 hours.

Human traffic AND auto traffic. Can you imagine? Cars bumper to bumper, and people bumper to cars! People smacking the cars if it got too close to them and also smacking the cars trying to sell the drivers and passengers bread, food…anything.

I fell asleep during the car ride from Port harcourt to Aba, after nearly having a heart attack every 30 seconds. Our driver was great, but I wasn’t into the rest of the people on the road driving crazy.

I woke up as soon as we got to Aba. I peeked through the window to see that the address to the house was hand written on the wall by the gate which guarded a beautiful home lit up by the moonlight.

“HI, Hanna” sang this petite woman with a welcoming cheeky smile. I smiled back while trying to figure out who she was.

“I knew your Grandmother Hanna” she explained inside after helping us gather our luggage.

“Do you miss her?” she asked, still with that cheeky smile.

“Yes. Very much. That’s why I traveled to Nigeria. That’s why I’m here” I explained while trying to hold back tears.

I soon learned that she was my Uncle’s mother in law. We were staying at his in-laws house.

“Are you hungry? You want rice?” mama in law asked.

I was starving. But being that I’m now in Nigeria, I was trying to come up with a way to explain that I don’t eat meat. It’s different here.

As a Nigerian… not eating meat…that’s VERY rare.

I asked my uncle to tell her but they all acted as if I was telling a joke.

Mama in law brought out fufu (pounded yam) and snail soup.

I dipped my hands in the round bowl of water next to the food, which is used to wash your hands.

Then, I feasted. I gobbled up everything and left the dead snail in the bowl for someone else to enjoy.

The WiFi that my uncle brought from the states stopped working. I didn’t get a chance to use it, but I need a break from my cellphone so it didn’t matter.

After being on 3 different airplanes and traveling all day, I was tired. I sat by the kitchen while everyone else finished their food. It was SO hot. I could taste the dirt on myself as my sweat came dripping down my face.

I pulled off my hoodie and sat there for a few minutes in my own stench. I needed to shower or something fast. It was so bad that the baby wipes I brought in my carryon wouldn’t have been helpful.

Before I could say anything, my uncle and his  mama in law told me to get up so that they can show me where I’ll be sleeping.

I was put in a room to share with his wife, my aunty.

As I carefully placed my belongings down, checking to make sure I wasn’t placing anything on the dead bugs.

I went into the restroom so that I could prepare for my bath and brush my teeth. I wasn’t surprised when I felt the cold water spew out onto my hand.

I begged for mama in law to boil me some hot water for my bath. I know it was late at night and Nepa was about to cut off the lights for everyone, but I’m the type of person who’d cry in a cold shower.

Nepa is the authority that provides power to everyone… Unless you have a generator.

While my water boiled, i spent some time trying to figure out how I’m going to use the bucket to shower, brush my teeth, and change all before the lights cut off. I didn’t know how much time I had really. No one ever knows.

Before bathing I aggressively brushed each tooth clean. Spent a great deal of time scrubbing my tongue while desperately trying to forget the image of the dead snail in my soup.

After my bath, which was even more pleasant with that bucket of hot water, I ripped open a pack of bug shield wipes. I assumed that the burning sensation meant that it was working… haha.

Minutes before Nepa cut off the lights, mama in law came into the room to put a net over me to sleep with. Extra precaution to keep safe from the bugs and mosquitoes.

I slept like crazy on my flights earlier today so I didn’t want to fall asleep now.

The screech of the bats distracted me and made me focus on my thoughts.

You know..

I was abruptly pulled from my daily routine… by choice.

Suddenly learning that there is space between the signals of my wifi, space in between double tapping pictures on Instagram, space between snapchat stories.

In that space I can slightly see myself.