Nigerian Girl

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Big brother CJ

The next day.

I had just finished reading Chidindu’s paper. After reading it I put the paper down on my stomach and closed my eyes. The first line running through my mind.

“Imagine feeling estranged to something that’s supposed to be a part of you.”

That line alone made me feel sorry for him. Which isn't as nice as it sounds. Feeling sorry meant I pitied him and it’s not like I had a tangible reason for doing so.

All he had just written down in this piece of paper was that he had grown up not really sure what culture he was to accept. His parents’ cultures seemed to directly contrast each other.

It didn’t help the fact that his father wanted him to be closer to his own culture, and that couldn’t happen because of his mother.

“My mother’s culture expresses liberalism and freedom to do and be whatever you want, and my father’s culture stresses the importance of respect of elders, family and tradition.”

That line made me wonder if I would feel the same if let’s say my parents had married into different religions or tribes. It was no secret that his parent’s differences had led to the end of their marriage.

I just couldn’t understand why sometimes people let the differences that they bear to divide them.

Nigerians too were guilty of this. You see the older generation indirectly teaching the younger generation to not marry someone of a different culture, religion or even region.

It was silly.

I lifted the paper from my stomach and skimmed through the whole page filled with words before my eyes finally landed a place that had struck me the most.

“I wonder what would have happened if my parents had learnt to address their differences, perhaps I wouldn’t have grown up this way…unsure of my identity or where I belong.”

I read this line over and over again before finally standing up to go downstairs with the paper still in my hand. I was beginning to get tired of staying by myself in my room.

I was not sure exactly what I was going to look for. I walked to Nenye’s room. Her door was wide open. She was on the phone with her back turned to me. I didn’t bother waiting for her to turn to find me watching her. I walked to CJ’s room.

I hadn’t been here in a while. I remember as a kid I used to rush into his room in the middle of the night after having a nightmare.

He was a light sleeper so he’d always wake up as soon as I walked inside.
Even though I was still sharing a room with Nenye I still preferred going all the way to his room.

I knocked on his door. His answer came immediately.

“Yes?” he said from the other side.

“It’s Zaram,” I said wondering if I should just turn back and go back to my room.

The door opened. He was wearing another one of his old shirts. This one was red with the picture of a cartoon dog on it. It looked snug on his body, he was beginning to outgrow it.

“Hey, what’s up?” He opened the door wide to let me in.

“You still have this shirt.” I walked inside to see his textbook open on his bed.

He looked down at it and said, “Yeah, it’s now faded but I still like it.”

Our Aunt in the UK had bought shirts for us and sent them to Nigeria when we were still children.