My Belonging Story

Growing up in Nigeria west Africa, my childhood was centered around my large busy family. My dad and his love for people, my mum and her hospitality, the combination — a busy and fun home. They are both gone now but the memories are forever and they keep teaching me.

My dad came from a large biological family but he?also intentionally made a large family everywhere he went. His?Booming Laughter?from my earliest memories of the quiet neighborhood we live in could be heard from the street. I remember when I was in primary school (elementary ), we lived in a house that had four homes in the compound, and my neighbors used to comment that they knew when my dad was home because of his laughter. Well, I knew what they meant because when I’m walking home it was just a welcome feeling and a checklist to confirm?Yes Dad is home.

Love for Family by blood

He was the first of nine children, however, beyond that, he stayed connected to his father's family and his mother's family as well. This means I learned a lot of history especially since we stayed about 30 minutes from our village — the extended family had access to us as well. I probably should know more about the family tree than I actually do but It's one of those comfortable feelings that just resided with my dad knows everything and everyone and you never really think this person would not be here forever. He had an open door, meaning our home was a revolving door of people dropping in for short or mid-term stays. To be fair, cell phones were not the thing they are now and so people dropping by with luggage for overnight or more than a night stay was always random.

Love for Friends Like Family

My dad was a professor and as far back as I can remember we had students drop by at how home and were always welcome. He got involved in what bothered my friends, his students, his colleagues, our neighbors, everyone around him.

I was reminded of this again in 2021 when a past student at his university found me on Facebook and wasn't aware my dad had passed and I honestly didn't remember the incident but I had connected him to my dad. Although he was not my dad's direct student my dad went out of his way to assist him. I hear different stories like this all the time, too many to relate and they always come up at just the right time to cheer me up and inspire me. At his funeral in 2015, I felt the warmth of love from lives he had touched and extended “children” and am always proud to live up to that legacy.

Love for the Spiritual and Religion

We grew up as Christian and we had different denomination pastors as friends and my dad's acquaintances that would freely drop by at our home and were always welcome. I remember once when we had a Muslim leader come to our house frequently and I asked my dad why he was there if we were not Muslims. That was probably the first diversity and inclusion lesson that I remember as a child. My dad ended up explaining to me that what good is your knowledge if you never welcome people who know what you don't. You always need to listen to learn. After that, I got comfortable with the different religions in my home. It didn't change our religion but we learned more from every person. We had some Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints members become really great friends because my dad saw them on the street, stopped to chat, and ended up inviting them to our home. Of course, they became regulars and would stop by over the next few years, talked to us about their religion, and even invited the entire family to worship once.

Love with Money

At an early age, I became my dad’s financial assistant. I’m not sure how that happened but monthly he would write me a check after his payday and I would go to the bank. The first time I had to go through the bank manager. Get a large amount of cash and then stop at multiple spots to make bill payments for the month and then bring the balance home.

He will list out all the things I needed to do in the evening and I was always so excited to dress up early the next morning and take a cab to get to the bank first then run all the errands. I would then come home, sit and write down everything I did and how much I spent to the last change. Every single penny would be recorded because I learned earlier on that my dad always had me hold on to the balance which was always a lot of money (at least to me then). Throughout the course of the week, he will ask for ad hoc cash as gifts when we had guests or to pay a bill. He will ultimately ask me some days later how much I had and I had to have a straight answer. I am not sure now if he was intentionally teaching me money management and accountability but that’s what I learned. I learned to daily update my notes and give him a written account when he asked. I ultimately learned about his generosity and the service he provided for people with the little he had. He put his money where his mouth was, he loved people with his money.

Love with Time and Attention

On numerous occasions, I saw my dad get in his car and drive, within the town or out of town to meet family and friends' needs or check-in. When he thinks about you — he picks up the phone and calls to check-up. He had a listening heart, he paid attention to you and drew you in in a conversation. I remember always feeling like any friend I bring home always ends up becoming my dad's biggest fan and he would know more about my friends than I did because he listened. If he knows your birthday he calls, If you have an event he bears the burden of wanting to honor you with his presence.

My Childhood — My Belonging

My dad passed away back in Nigeria in 2015.

And now, based in California, United States I am very far from my childhood home and community. I have emerged and settled into being a “MINORITY”. As a STEM and Corporate American career woman, the “ONLY” feeling is more prominent and I have learned to “BRACE” and find my “BELONGING”.

In Spring of 2021, I took part in a storytelling workshop about race, and my Story was Titled “BELONGING without BRACING” — You can?view the entire event on Vimeo?but my short story came on about the 1:06:00 mark.

When I think of my childhood, I think of my DAD, the PEOPLE, and the COMMUNITY. The feelings that I had then often get revisited when I connect with a group, a person, or find people with a shared passion. I am taken HOME and I have learned to embrace and cherish these few and far between moments of community and people to once again feel the BELONGING from my childhood, MY BELONGING without BRACING.

#family #Belonging #Nigeria #Home