Chapter 2

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We went to England for the first time in our lives that summer. Four weeks. 'Just to see what it's like' my dad said. I remember we came out of Stansted airport and we got picked up by two black ladies. They looked quite similar. One had purple braids, also called singles, and the other was wearing a brown wig that had semi-curled hair. As soon as they saw my dad, the one with braids gave him a big hug. All I remember from that moment is her calling him 'brother'. My dad didn't tell us much about them beforehand but he did say that we were going to meet his new girlfriend. As the first one called him brother, I automatically assumed that the second one was his girlfriend.

We got into this red seven seated car and there was a little boy trying to sleep, we were sitting in the backseats and he was so tired that he fell asleep on my lap. I remember thinking 'ahw he is so cute!'.

As soon as we got to the house, a guy around my age opened the door for us and helped us with our suitcases. My dad told us in Dutch that this is where we were going to stay for the next month. All I remember is the house being massive! Six bedrooms and four bathrooms! Nothing like what I was used to in Holland with our 4 bedroom 2 bathroom house.

So we were practically living in their house and my sister and I were trying to fully comprehend the situation but we barely spoke English. All we knew was Dutch and maybe a 'hello' and a 'how are you' here and there in English.

Turns out the lady with the purple box braids, Latysha, was my actual new stepmom and that the other lady was her twin sister. Took me a while to figure out but I was pretty sure of it. I didn't care much as it wasn't the main thing in my life, the main thing was that I was about to move to ENGLAND! Turning my life upside down.Leaving my family and friends, having to prove myself in school all over again, trying to make new friends e.t.c.

Anyway.

I remember one specific day where I was so upset. The atmosphere was extremely different. I went from living in a society with primarily white people to living in a house with all Nigerian people who were brought up in similar ways. I barely knew anything about their culture or their upbringing.

Things that are normal in their culture such as children doing quite a large part of the cleaning and cooking or the kids doing things for the parents was a "ritual" I wasn't used to. Latysha would ask me to bring her water and I would do it, but after some time all I wanted to do was shout back and say: 'Why don't you do it yourself! You have your own two legs!'. Because that was all that I knew, in Holland I would come home and my grandmother would be there waiting for me with some lemonade and a few biscuits.

By no means am I saying that that was healthy for me, I was just used to it. And having such a hasty transition from one to the other swiped me off my feet.

Anyhow, I ran upstairs and cried in my 'temporary' bedroom. The twin sister came upstairs and tried to comfort me. Although I was struggling to understand what was being said due to my continuing lack of knowledge in English; I felt comforted. She gave me £20 and my dad gave me a few quid and then we went shopping. I had never felt so rich in my life before. I bought 2 t-shirts and a pair of trousers that up till this day I still have. By time we got home I had already forgotten about what took place and handled the situation as if nothing ever happened.

The remaining of the holiday included eating a lot of Jollof (an African rice dish) with chicken and just chilling around the house.

We went to the church every Sunday which was really weird for me. Not because I never used to go to church- because I did- but because it was an African style church. Loud music, lots of dancing and intense prayers. Back in Holland church was calming with peaceful songs and only a few people of colour. Compared to here in England, that was boring. But once again, I was used to it. I learned how to dance and sing a lot of the songs and how to greet 'aunties' in the appropriate manner.

In their culture all the women in the church are your 'aunties', all the men are called 'uncles' and the elders are called either 'sir' for male or 'ma' for female. You also handed out or received things with only your right hand, out of respect. Ofcourse me being the twelve-year-old newbie I was, I took a drink from an 'aunty' with my left hand. She still handed it to me, knowing that I was new to all of this and whispered in my ear: 'my child eh, here we give and take with our right hand, try and not make that mistake again'. Ever since that day, anytime I do anything, I use my right hand automatically.

We had a few birthday parties and barbeques during the four weeks. I made two friends who are basically my cousins but not really, we call each other cousins either way. It's all a little complicated. We had little sleepovers, watched movies together, played games together and even invented new tricks on the trampoline. I think meeting them was the best part of my summer, they were only one and two years younger than me so it was all fun.

The rest of the holiday is nothing but a vague memory to me as I still didn't speak the language fully.

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