Posted on by thelastbornsjournal

Navigating the Streets of ‘Prejudice’

Sometime last year, I found myself in a room full of individuals from across different races and nationalities; it was my first day on a new job. While we waited for the facilitator to begin the training session, I went on an unsolicited journey of profiling my colleagues. I did a quick scan of the faces and name tags of everyone present and based on books I had read, movies I had seen and stories I had heard, the allocation to countries began. For the lady whose hair was super long and spoke a certain way, I immediately tagged her as Indian. The other lady with certain distinct facial and bodily features could only be Chinese, as far as I was concerned. 

Until I got a chance to interact with these ladies during our break, my shallow deductions would have been my conclusion on the matter. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the one whom I thought was Indian was actually from Bangladesh and the one to whom the country China was designated was not. What a miss and a mess at the same time, all sourced from faulty parameters. The truth is, until my conversations with J.Kay that evening, I barely knew anything about Bangladesh. The implication of this was that because Bangladesh did not exist as a tangible reality in my frame of reference, I placed her within the context of what already existed and this meant that she could ‘only be’ Indian in my world. 

What this meant invariably was that with my extremely limited knowledge of world geography and distinct racial properties I had cramped up a room full of distinct humans into an uncomfortably small room in my mind. To this extent, there is a certain sense in which we could go through life, holding fiercely unto certain paradigms as truth and never knowing that it’s probably just a drop in a whole ocean of endless dimensions and possibilities until certain events or circumstances like this one come to challenge us and expose our knowledge gaps. Of course, after our conversation at lunch that day, I went on to do an extensive research about Asia and Asians and gobbled up as much information as I could.

This trap of unconscious bias is exactly where I found myself during my time as a  youth corper in Northern Nigeria, many years ago. The National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) Scheme can simply be described as the beginning of a ‘rite-of-passage’ that officially welcomes fresh graduates into the Nigerian labour market.  After experiencing a slight delay that prevented my classmates and I from participating in the mandatory scheme immediately after graduation, we all couldn’t wait to see what state we had been posted to for service, when the time eventually came. I remember how we all gathered excitedly around the notice board at DSA (Dean of Students’ Affairs), eager to know what shape the next phase of our lives would take. Shrieks of laughter and excitement came from different quarters as my classmates found their names on the board and it matched their expectations. 

My eyes stayed glued to the board, and I repeatedly used my hands to trace my name to the state highlighted in front of it, just to ensure that I was seeing well. All of a sudden, my knowledge of Nigerian States and Capital failed me, as I wondered what the “GM ” I was seeing against my name meant. What is ‘Gombe’ and why is it sitting so confidently and comfortably in front of my name? I frantically hoped that it was a mistake of sorts; being posted to serve in a state in North-Eastern Nigeria, was the last and the least thing I expected. I cried when I was all by myself that night as reality dawned on me and I asked God why I had been posted so far away from home. It honestly didn’t seem fair to me at all that most other people got choice postings, except me.

The burden only began to lighten up when I discovered that there was an airport in Gombe state and I would not have to travel by road  for about 22 hours+ from Lagos. This little detail proved to me again how mindful God is of me and my outlook began to change. D-day came, and I boarded my flight from Lagos to Abuja from where I caught a connecting flight to Gombe State. As we got off the plane, I caught a wisp of the dry and slightly dusty air which had a harmattan feel to it; this was my first time setting my foot in the North eastern part of Nigeria and I loved it already. 

A couple of us on the flight that had identified ourselves as corpers rallied up as we claimed our luggage; our next task was to find our way from the airport to the orientation camp. As soon as we stepped out of the arrival lounge, it would seem like we had some invisible badges that identified us as corpers and visitors to the land; the people we met were unusually kind and warm to us. They greeted us with such enthusiasm, answered all our questions with extreme patience and went out of their way to make sure that we were comfortable. They got a cab for all four of us, paid for it and quickly sent us on our way to the orientation camp which was about a two and a half hours drive away from the airport.

As we made the trip to the orientation camp, I pondered on the warm reception we as strangers had received from the ‘hosts’. The contradiction between my subconscious expectations and my experience made me question every other thing I had always assumed or believed about the people and the land itself. Nothing I had ever heard or known prepared me for the kindness I had encountered, firsthand. I realised then that I really ‘knew’ nothing about life in the North except for second-hand information fraught with hasty generalisations and diverse prejudices  that I had mostly acquired informally. I learnt quite quickly that what society and social studies as a subject in school taught me about Nigeria is not all that there is to it and knew that I had a lot of unlearning and relearning to do, if I would make the most of the year as a youth corper.

While reflecting on these two experiences which are over a decade apart, the common denominator I drew between both is the presence of a measure of implicit bias (subconscious feelings, attitudes, prejudices or stereotypes – oftentimes negative – developed due to prior influences & imprints) that I held about people, groups or things. These things are sometimes so subtle that we don’t often realise how we are being influenced by it and how it drives us to the wrong conclusions. This discovery is leading me to make a conscious resolve to always deal objectively with people first through the lenses of our shared humanity before anything else. 

My new favourite thing these days is questioning the origins of my first impressions and self-educating myself so that I can see the beauty in the totality of what different people and cultures bring to the table. The recognition that all humans are made in the image of God is a great starting point for all interactions.

Posted on by thelastbornsjournal · 1 Comment

Memoirs From Toronto (1)

‘Summer was beautiful’ would be me putting it mildly and probably understating the richness of my experience in its entirety. Just being situated in the context of family was the brightness the landscape of my life needed, as it offered me the opportunity to reassess and appreciate the gift of the very people I am blessed with and surrounded by. We littered the timelines of our holidays with barbecues, camping activities, countless sleepovers, outings and other fun stuff. To cap the season up, I made a trip with my immediate family to Toronto and two very distinct experiences I had on this trip brought with it 2 huge lessons I would never forget in a hurry. 

Kamba had traveled ahead of us to attend to a few things and so I left home that Saturday with the children and my niece; for the sake of my niece who was visiting Toronto for the first time, I had made arrangements to explore downtown Toronto a bit before heading to Oshawa.  The plan was simple; my long-time sister-friend, Ibiwunmi was to pick us up at the airport upon arrival, take us off to her house to unwind and have breakfast and then we would head out for sight-seeing while the children stayed back at home to have a good time. After we all had our heart’s fill of play and fun, we would head out to Oshawa, where we would be camping for the entire 4-day duration of the trip. 

We arrived at the airport that morning in good time for all the check-in formalities required. The reason for choosing an early morning flight was very clear; we wanted to have ample time to explore and play. While we waited in the lounge to board the Aircraft, an announcement made by the airline’s passenger assistance personnel interrupted my thoughts. They needed some people to give up their seats on the 5.30 a.m flight and join a later one that would leave for Toronto by 4.30 pm that same day. They went further to offer a huge incentive as compensation for people who were willing to give up their seats. I heard this and my head did a quick calculation of the amount of money which could potentially be in my account if I responded to the call. I did a quick mental scan of the actual cost price of the tickets and saw that it was a ‘profitable exchange’. 

All the hard things had been done already; our bags had been checked in, boarding passes for the 4.30 pm would be issued to us immediately and all we needed to do was go home,rest a bit and come back later to catch the later flight to Toronto. ‘Easy-peasy’ , I thought and so I stood up and walked to the counter, I spoke with the attendant, and confidently declared my willingness to give up our seats and join the 4.30 pm flight. She responded in that ever-sweet manner, “Oh! I am sorry, we needed only 3 people and we already have that number. Thanks for offering.”

My goodness! What just happened? I walked back to my seat slowly, hoping nobody else heard or noticed the conversation that just ensued. Well, a small part of me felt slightly embarrassed by the awkwardness of everything that happened, but the bigger part of me was shocked. I tried to make sense of my feelings and determine exactly how I felt, but I could not.

Before I walked up to have the conversation with the lady at the counter, I thought I knew myself. I thought I knew the things I could do or not do. I thought I understood my motivations and was largely self-aware, but apparently, blind-spots do exist. My heart lay bare before me and I saw who I could be, given certain conditions. How else would I explain the speed with which it all happened – A quick and sweat-less monetary reward in exchange for weeks of careful planning, anticipation and sacrifice, all at the instance of a 45-second announcement; the trade-in was way too cheap and fast.

If you examine it through the eyes of being strategic, having business acumen or an exceptional ability to seize and maximize opportunities, what I did would seem very brilliant. But when weighed against the backdrop of running every decision, big or small by God, I scored low. I certainly did not check or even think deeply. Money called, Funmi answered. I didn’t even stop to think about the people waiting for me on the other side of my flight, and the implication of my actions on all the plans we had made. What else would I throw all else away in exchange for? Quite frankly, if anybody had painted that scenario and described my actions as how I would potentially react, I would have argued my head off. “That can never be me” I would have blurted out confidently.

What I found a bit worrisome was also the fact that if I did not experience a blatant rejection at the counter, I probably would not have reflected on my decision making process and observed the loopholes and shortcomings therein. I thank God for the mercy that prevented the transaction from going through, but also wondered how many other times I had acted on my own impulses. The experience showed me that how we arrive at a destination is as important as the destination itself and there is a need to carefully re-evaluate the yardsticks for decision making on every front. My first lesson from this particular trip gave me a strong resolve to consciously acknowledge God when making all my decisions and not lean on my own understanding.

Eventually, we boarded our 5.30 a.m flight to Toronto and landed in good time. We had the best time with family and friends and left for Oshawa later that evening; everybody was exhausted from the day’s activities, but grateful nonetheless for the experience.