Ekene Moses

In most African countries, there is always this underlying pressure when one is migrating abroad for whatsoever reasons which warn, “We don't expect to see you soon, and we do not mind; however, we expect to see you doing 100 per cent better in all areas of your life anytime that you may finally decide to come home.”

Nevertheless, you do not expect this to be clearly stated. In fact, no one mentions it, although it could be deduced from various advice provided by family and well-wishers. Thus, it is rarely discussed or acknowledged in our society.

Also, most of these countries fall under high power distances and highly collectivistic societies; according to Hofstede's cultural dimensions theory, the individual travelling abroad is not only travelling for him/herself but for everybody.

Mine happened in 2019 when I got an International Exchange Scholarship that first took me to Spain. From there, I relocated to the United Kingdom. During the cause of these years of studying full-time and being self-sponsored, there was no time to even think about visiting home or executing it.

So I managed to live as though a home is a place we go to, not a place we belong. I convinced myself and those around me that it is normal culturally for Africans to spend more years overseas without visiting home.

I like to observe the unbelievable yet surprising realisation stare when I inform a classmate or colleague that I have not visited home to see my family since I came to England.

So, I am elated to share that I was finally able to take a holiday to travel home to Nigeria – two weeks ago.

When I was going, I was filled with excitement but, at the same time, nervous regarding all the changes I was about to experience. And how hugely my lifestyle must have changed with that of my family members.

There are core cultural and family values that I tried to hold dear over the years. I had written about them to constantly remind myself not to trade them during my interactive assimilation with English culture.

It was a cultural shock to realise that students can call their teachers by their first names in Europe. I never subscribed because I knew how ill-mannered this could be perceived in my culture. I called my lecturers, prefixing their titles before their first names - 'Dr this and Prof. that.'

After I graduated and secured a graduate job, the struggle with this cultural show of respect came in the form of how best to address my older colleagues and not to talk more of my managers and top executives, which I have seen my colleagues calling by their first names.

A week after starting my new role, I wrote about this in a LinkedIn post. I manage this cultural difference by using 'Mr. this and Mrs. that.' since I could not use 'Sir. and Ma'am' typically used in my country. By the way, pay attention to the 'ma'am' and not 'madam' as madam on itself could also be perceived as a 'rude disrespect' in my culture. However, with the complexities of identities and how seriously the issue is taken in the West, I soon succumbed to calling people by their first names.

With time I realised that in the West, your parents and probably closely related extended families are the only ones who, by bond entitlement, deserve titles instead of their names. But every other person is an individual with a name and deserves to be addressed by one instead of a title.

However, in Nigeria, names are sacred and reserved for those of the same demographic social class (colleagues of similar age brackets, classmates or agemates, and someone obviously younger than you). Other than this, a person's name is taboo to be addressed with.

Another dimension I paid attention to is using my left hand to give or receive something from someone. Culturally, this is not only rude but very disrespectful. As a left-handed child, I was beaten out of it to the point of being reflectively aware of using my right hand.

In England, I almost revived my use of my left hand as my default hand. I comfortably started using my left hand to operate my computer mouse and to give and receive something from someone. After all, nobody cares about this trivial protocol in England.

These were my two major cultural checklists. I was happy that I consciously had them under check. To the point that a month before I travelled, I would wake up to remind myself this was my right hand, and this was my left.

Nevertheless, the dimensions I was measured with, of how my cultural awareness has changed and influenced by the English one, were both surprising and forlorn.

It appears that for someone like me, a different yardstick is needed. The things I thought they'd praise me for upholding were acknowledged, but still, they needed more. For instance, I am someone of high moral standards, and I have a personally varied definition of the virtues that makes me a moral person and to live a free lifestyle which I wrote about in this article - I Travelled to England to Enjoy Freedom and Not for University Studies.

Instead, my hairstyle was significantly praised. Not because of a clean cut from my barber in England but because I still kept a haircut and not dreadlocks, braids, or other heavy-fashioned hairstyles like dying a different colour etc., Even though a clean-cut hairstyle was my style back in Nigeria before I left.

My personal presentation and appearance were another dimension I was judged with that disappointed me. By personal presentation, my family were happy. Still, they were astonished that I slept with them in our house instead of lodging at a hotel.

Similarly, using Nigerian public transport didn't go very well with them. They argued that they were concerned about my safety – as if the bad guys could tell those that came from overseas from the rest of the passengers. I know they must have considered my comfort, too, but could not admit it. So, I simply remind them that I seldom use taxi or Uber services in England – why then, by default, just use them in Nigeria?

Also, most people were not impressed with my outfits. They called it 'simplicity'. Since they thought coming from England, I should always style branded clothes.

Even as I write, this dimension makes me smile silently as it reminds me of one of Chinua Achebe's popular books - 'No Longer at Ease.' How in Chapter 2, the people of Umuofia Progressive Union, who sponsored Obi's (the main character in the novel) education in England, were disappointed with how he dressed so casually at their welcome party for him after studying and spending four years like me in England. Because before now, I thought of events like that as fairytales only read in books or seen in Nigerian Nollywood movies.

Lastly, I was labelled a 'gentle man' even before I left. But coming back, I have gained a disappointing prefix to this 'The British Gentle Man.' I wonder why my gentility had to be attributed to another culture.

I was constantly reminded of how a place like Nigeria does not deserve the level of my gentility. For this reason, my elder brother volunteered to always go everywhere with me.

Nevertheless, most of the few times I went to places alone, I did just fine and bought things at the actual price – even cheaper than expected. They believed I would be gullible to the Nigerian market's unregulated product and service prices. So, I used these events to prove that nothing is wrong with the unwavering lifestyle that I have disagreed to fully credit to England. Still, a lot needs to be corrected with their expectations and assumptions of overseas.

It could be that young folks from this culture who travel overseas succumb to these subconscious expectations of people back home. Which, even though they disapprove, they unconsciously welcome. And could this scenario be how new cultures are born and upheld?

Photo credit: Author (A picture of author and family)

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Many thanks for reading my perspective and giving feedback.

My fervent wish is for the personal growth of everyone and the success of all young professionals who put their hearts and souls into finding their purpose in life.

Copyright © Ekene Moses, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

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