Halfway Across the World

Chapter Three- Only a (few) plane(s) away

Before I know it, I'm in a seat in Economy,  waiting for the plane to take off. I've been on planes before; one time we went to Bayelsa, and when I was very young we went to Calabar for someone's wedding. But I've never been on such a long flight, and never by myself.

The plane slowly fills up, and an Air Hostess smiles at me and tells me there is free wi-fi once we take off. I thank her and turn on the screen on the back of the seat. I haven't seen any of these movies, but there are at least four Scooby-Doo films, and I know those, so I put one on.

When the plane is done boarding, the pilot comes on over the intercom. I try to soothe the worry I feel by resting back in my seat and just closing my eyes. We're urged to put on our seatbelts so I do, and then we take off.

I'm by the window seat, and my row is completely empty but for me. Once we're in the air and the seatbelt warning goes off, I slide open my window cover. Nothing interesting to see outside. I shut it again. I feel antsy, and since they haven't said we can browse yet, I go into my photo gallery.

There are a few pictures from the party last night, but I scroll to my albums and click the one that I always do when I need comfort. The cover photo is of my family. Mama, wearing a red igbudian and holding a horsewhip. I'm beside her, in matching attire, though my clothes are much smaller. I couldn't have been any older than three in this photo. 

My father is on the left, wearing white with red beads, smiling against a backdrop of water. We still have the wall hanging in church. I enter the album and scroll through more photos of the three of us. There aren't very many, and even fewer that I can remember taking. My father died just before I turned four, to a sudden heart attack. Mama says it was stress. "Working too hard. The only escape he had was swimming." She compares me to him a lot.

An air hostess comes up and tells me I'm clear to connect to the internet. I thank her, but put away my phone and turn to my screen. I'm exhausted though, and so I fall asleep to the movie as I fly away from my only home.

When I wake up, everything in me aches. I stretch and yawn, checking the time on the screen. Two in the morning. We've been flying for about four hours.

The lights have been dimmed, and I slide open my window cover and peek out the window. We're flying over city lights. I wonder where we are now. Behind me, I hear shuffling, and suddenly a woman has poked her nose between my seat and the wall of the plane.

"You're flying alone?" she has an American accent. "Yes, Ma'am." "How come?" I hesitate, and then shrug. "I am going to school." "School! You look so young. You must be a very smart girl." I look at her. She has dark skin, and two scars on each cheek that tell me she's probably Igbo. "Thank you, Ma'am." "I am going to visit my daughter. I haven't seen her in a very long time." she sits back, as though content with the discussion. "Go to sleep. it's late."

I nod and turn forward in my seat. Strange. I don't feel much like talking again, so I slip my headphones back in to mute out the noise of the cabin as everyone quiets down. Before I know it, I'm asleep again.

I sleep and wake intermittently, and at one point get some food. Meat pie and apple juice. When we finally land, my phone says six o'clock Nigerian time. But now I'm in Frankfurt and I have no idea what the time here is. Is it the same? Is it different?

A flight attendant helps me get my luggage, and then leads me to where I need to go. I head out of the plane and into the massive airport. There are so many people, but I just want to go to the hotel, so I open my email and pull up the information. There will be a taxi waiting for me at Gate... I hesitate, looking around for a moment.

A security officer in a dark jacket stands close to me. He has pale skin and dark blonde hair. I hesitate before approaching him. His eyebrows perk up.

"Hallo. Wo sind Ihre Eltern?" I stare at him. "Um." I don't even know what language he's speaking. I learned Hausa in school, some French. "Je suis...lost?"

He blinks at me. "English?" "Yes." I breathe, nodding. "Sorry." "It is no problem." His voice is stern, and his accent is firm in a way. He doesn't sound American. What country is Frankfurt in? Maybe I should have paid more attention in class. 

"Where are your parents?" "I'm by myself. Flying unaccompanied. I need directions, please. Sir." I hold up the phone, and instead of taking it, he leans forward to read it. "Ah. It is that way." he points, then gives me directions. "Thank you." "You are welcome," he says. "Welcome to Germany." 

Germany! I should have known. I hurry in the direction he gave me, carry on in tow. My luggage is traveling separately and should arrive in Canada before me. I head out the doors, where it's already morning. People are hurrying to get into cars, dragging and dropping luggage. I squint for my ride and finally spot it; a cream car with a large sticker that says "Ontario Catholic School Board Pickup."

I get into the car and thank the driver. "It is my pleasure." He says, though his voice indicates that it really isn't. As we drive I stare out the window, looking at the winding roads. I don't know what to expect of Germany. It is different than Abuja though.

I don't get much time to stare. We arrive at a Sheraton hotel, and I head inside. There's a staff waiting for me, a tall Caucasian woman with long brown hair. She leads me upstairs after looking at the papers I brought with me, and shows me to my room. "We'll come wake you up when you need to return to the airport," she says, and hands me a key to get into my room.

I unlock the door and step into the room, breathing in that sweet hotel smell. I love hotels. Mama used to work in one and so I used to hang around on weekends. But this one is different in some ways. There are huge windows, and two beds. I pull the curtains close and lie on the bed closest to the window.

I open my phone and send my friends a message. I should have learnt German. There is no response. They're probably getting ready for school. I call Mama, but she doesn't pick, so I fish my charger out of my bag, plug my phone in, and go to sleep.

The wake-up call comes a bit earlier than expected. "Mrs...Eedray?" I wake up and wipe the sleep from my eyes. It's only ten am. "Breakfast will be over soon."

I pick up the phone. "Thank you!" there's a click on the other side and I drag myself out of bed. I'm exhausted, but my flight leaves at two. I still have time to sleep, so I slip on my shoes and head downstairs.

Now that I'm more well-rested, I look around at the hotel. It's fine. Simple, pretty. I choose not to use the elevator; I got trapped in one once- and head downstairs. It takes a while for me to find the breakfast hall, but when I do it's full. I go over to the tables with food and stand, staring for a moment.

There's none of the food I usually have. No custard, no akara. I spot a couple of rows of bread and tiny containers of jam, so I put some on my plate and then go take a seat. If I can't have good food I might not survive in Canada. I applied to be placed with a Nigerian family though, and the woman from the board assured me that my accommodations are ready, so it should be fine.

I finish my meal and then watch everyone else in the hall. I've never seen this many Caucasians all at once. It's like I'm watching television. A woman is dragging her son by the arm, talking to him in German. He says something back and kicks her. I bite my lip to keep my jaw from dropping. The kid at the table across from me is mashing his waffles with his fork, and I hear his father tell him to eat up in English. He shakes his head.

I get up and hurry back to my room. This place is strange, and I don't want to spend my entire rest period staring.

They come to get me at two, and I get my things and head back to the airport. My next flight is to Montreal, and then I will be driven to Ottawa, where I'll be going to school. I sleep for most of the flight, wake up to eat, and then fall asleep again. When we land in Montreal I am bone tired, and my ears are ringing for some reason.

It's Tuesday morning, and I am supposed to meet the woman from the board. As we head out of the plane into the airport, I look out the window. No snow. I'm a tiny bit disappointed, but I don't have much time to be, so I head for the gate where I'll be picked up. My heart is pounding as I join the rush of people heading out, and the second I step outside it hits me.

I'm in Canada.