The Diaspora conundrum – what happens when sojourners return to the herd

There is a popular YouTube clip of a Nigerian comedian that travels to South Africa and comes back with an 'American' accent. As much as his new found tongue confuses his old friend, it also doesn't come across with the greatest deal of conviction or accuracy. Absurd as this may sound, it provides a great picture of how people respond to migration and the cultural changes that often follow.

Leaving the country of your birth to live in another country presents opportunities for exciting new experiences and broadened horizons. New foods, different weather and language are just some of the challenges but sometimes, the biggest challenge is going back home.

For many, living in a different country means living a different lifestyle and letting go of some practices that might have previously been deemed fundamental. Survival, sacrifice and making the most of the opportunity are often at the core of the experience and this can result in different choices and new thought processes. When many migrants return to their native lands, they are a completely different version of the person that left.

While the importance of staying true to who you are and where you come from cannot be overstated, it is unfair that many migrants have to face accusations of betrayal and selling out when they go back home. Some are even excommunicated and told not to return until everything is back to 'normal'.

In many Nigerian cultures, the term 'Oyinbo' can either be used to describe a European (white person) or someone who is behaving like a European. The term can be innocent or pejorative, depending on context. This term is often used, in its most pejorative form, to describe migrants who return home with different thought processes and inclinations towards different choices.

For many of these migrants, this puts them in a confusing situation as they also have to deal with acceptance and integration issues in the land of their travels. For many migrants, knowing that you are different is a constant reality that they have to face almost every day. Whether the difference is in your accent, cultural disposition or skin colour, the reality of your 'foreignness' is almost impossible to ignore. So to go back home and have to deal with a different form of that reality can be very unsettling for their sense of identity. Basically, they do not feel like they belong anywhere.

This is not a new phenomenon and many different approaches have been taken to deal with the matter with little overall success. Some have encouraged an inward facing approach where the only culture that is acknowledged is the 'home culture'. For example, some people will only engage in social activities or actively encourage interaction with people from the same or similar cultures. On the other hand, you find another group of people that completely neglect their home culture, trading it for the values and traditions of the land of their travels. Both of these approaches have advantages but they fail to acknowledge and celebrate the reality of migrants being people from a different land to where they are currently situated.

The harsh reality for many migrants, especially those that migrate at a young age, is that many live their lives in limbo, struggling to find a place to pitch the tent of their identity without any reservations. The influence of the home culture differentiates them from neighbours in the land of the travels and the influence of the land of their travels makes them stand out when they are back in the homeland. This often leads to an identity crisis, a sort of rebellion and, in some cases, general disillusion with life. This can also put them at odds with their communities, sometimes resulting in anti-social behaviour.

As someone who moved countries at a young age and is known for being proud of his heritage but has also been called 'Oyinbo' in the most pejorative way, the only thing that kept me from the issues mentioned was the constant support of family and friends which encouraged me to own my experience without apology. Otherwise, it would have been a one-way ticket to rebellion and disillusionment.

It is only when we begin to celebrate our diaspora cultures for what they are, we will get a full blossoming that might even attract others to join us. We will get Tapas-style Nigerian restaurants and ball gowns made out of Kente. Not everyone will appreciate or understand it, especially the guys back home, but those that do will join us to celebrate. That will only happen when people of the diaspora begin to own their experience without apology.

Nigerians, non-alcoholic wine and the art of snobbery

Religion is a big part of Nigerian culture. A huge percentage of Nigerians profess either Christianity or Islam, and regardless of their level of dedication and overall adherence, there are certain things many will not touch with a stick in their bid for piety. The consumption of alcohol, for example, is widely frowned upon due to the Islamic stance on alcohol and widely held opinions of some Christian churches. There is also a stigma of irresponsibility attached to regular consumers, which is born out of stories and legends of 'the village drunkard' and other similar tales.

As a result, a lot of Nigerian events, well-known for their lavishness with food, all other sort of drinks and hospitality, are without any form of alcohol. Ifyou asked for wine, you would probably be handed a bottle ofsparkling grape juice aka non-alcoholic wine. And if you felt like sipping on some fine whiskey and made the mistake of asking for malt,you will be handed a bottle of something that looks a bit like Guinness and is almost as creamy as a milkshake. Nigerians are so in love with the idea of non-alcoholic wine that for some, real wine, regardless of its alcohol content, would not even interest them.

There is no denying that non-alcoholic wine tastes really good. It has an edgy taste that gives something of a buzz, and it goes really well with a lot of Nigerian dishes. Serving non-alcoholic wine also means people can go on to have a good time without worrying about the headaches and hangovers that come with every bottle of alcohol. Also, you don't have to worry about which guest will be possessed by Dutch courage todo or say something they will regret the next day. And apart from the fact that most non-alcoholic wines are more expensive than your average alcoholic wine, it is not difficult to see why it is such a popular choice.

But sometimes I think this long-standing infatuation with non-alcoholic wine has little to do with piety and dreading hangovers, and more to do with the need by many sections of the Nigerian community to show-off . Wine, unlike beer and other forms of alcohol, is often seen as a status symbol and the preserve of the wealthy. Wine is regarded as fancier and a taste for good wine gives an impression of affluence. If there is anything we can all agree on about Nigerians, it is that many of us like the idea of wealth and enjoy partaking in any act that shows it off to the world.

As a result of thefluidity of the Nigerian class system, unlike the English system forexample, where you stand in society is determined by how much money you have now and how much of a statement you are making with it. No thought for how much you had or what you did in the past. And what better way to make a statement than by throwing lavish first birthday parties with lots of food and expensive 'wine'. No sign ofnon-alcoholic beer at any of these parties, though. Beer is for commoners.

Don't get me wrong, Ilove my Nigerian parties and everything that comes (or doesn't come)with them but I believe we need to face this infatuation and begin tobe more honest. Our love for Shloer and Pure Heaven has little to dowith religious piety and a lot to do with our need to show off. Wewant to be seen as serving more than just Coke and Fanta but don't to'commit a sin' in the process. It all feeds into the same mentalitythat informs the attitude of many Nigerians on shopping, private education and pretty much every aspect of life.

I sometimes thinkNigerians wrote the book on snobbery and arrogance. We are bred withan insatiable need to be better than everyone else even when there isno competition. This is our blessing and our curse but until weunderstand that serving non-alcoholic wine does not make us betterthan anyone, we are only fooling ourselves.