Amanda Kirby Okoye: What Motivated My Relocation From The UK To Nigeria With My Boys

Until I became a mum, relocation to Nigeria was a dream I was never able to realize. I did everything to achieve it, even marrying a Nigerian man, based in Nigeria, but it just didn’t work.

I recall in the 1980s, my parents brought me as a toddler with my baby brother to Nigeria for the first time. We only stayed for 18 months because my father was not certain of the situation of the country after a coup against the then President, Shagari – the very same coup that would bring in a young officer, Muhammadu Buhari, as Head of State.

We left and never returned until an uncle of mine decided to bring me to Nigeria again in 1994 during one of my school holidays.

When we landed in Murtala Mohammed airport, I was amazed. This couldn’t be the Africa that I saw on TV!  Seriously? Everybody looked fabulous. I couldn’t understand why there was so many Mercedes, especially the V boot on the streets of Lagos. Something was off about this picture. THIS WAS NOT THE AFRICA THAT HAD BEEN SOLD TO ME ALL MY LIFE.

After having a blast in Lagos, I went to visit my grandmother in her base in Aba. That visit would change the course of my life forever. I learned so much about who I was and where I came from. I was proud. I didn’t want to leave, and that was the beginning of my plan to relocate home.

The delay to relocate was however compounded by fear of the unknown, fear from stories of lack of infrastructure and security… generally, fear of everything. Then, I became a single mother. My oldest son was misbehaving. I needed help – the kind I thought I could find in family here in Nigeria. I decided moving home was the right thing to do.

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You see, in the UK, there is a very laissez faire attitude to raising kids. It was not like that when I was growing up. They did not spare the rod then, even in schools. This may not have been the ideal approach but I’m sure the figures of youth crime were much lower then.

I would speak to fellow mothers in the community and the stress of not being able to control their once obedient children was overwhelming.

Your child would go to school from about 7:30 am and often not return home till about 5 or 6 pm. So essentially, your child is at the mercy of the streets and its influences in schools for about 10 hours every day. Now, if your child goes to bed say 10 pm, you only have 4 hours to counter those influences. Unfortunately, often times, the damage had already been done.

Then, my younger sons too started displaying “the change” I didn’t like. It was the push I needed, still, I stalled.

The last straw came few months ago when a 17-year-old in my neighborhood was stabbed to death! He was the same age as my oldest son. His death put a lot of things into perspective.

Though, I live in an area considered one of the best postcodes in the UK, the threat of gangsterism was ever real; compounded by the government’s subtle disempowerment of parents.

I braced up, and here we are in Abuja, Nigeria. Crazy, right? In the middle of a recession?

A mother’s natural impulse to love and protect her children is remarkable – it defies all possible odds.

Gladly, the move has been amazing so far. The first words one of my sons said to me on the ride out of Abuja airport was, “Mum, is this Nigeria? But it’s beautiful.”

Despite the current hardship in the country, I believe this is the best choice. I’m sad for the friends I left behind, for those who lamented and constantly reminded me of the fact that they felt stuck.

I was not stuck. I had a place I could take my sons to. A place where they could learn about our culture and values, a place they could probably appreciate and understand that the world is bigger than what they are presented with in London.

I’m looking forward to our future here with lots of optimism.