MOTHERLAND

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Home, a place of comfort, security and identity. There’s a saying that “there’s no place like home.”

It been fifty six years since I left my dear motherland and I’m longing to come back home. I was 17yrs old when I left this land and my fate took me Europe. I was young, the young blood ruins in mu veins and my heart was filled with hopes and eagerness, because I went in search for a greener pasture and I found it.

I established a business in England and made a great fortune, had a beautiful wife and two grown sons and a daughter, all I dreamt off came t pass. My two sons helped me in expanding my business, but now they’re married with kiddies, I left my business under their care.

Now at my old age, I decided to have a last glimpse of my motherland. I informed my family and made preparation to have a last glimpse of my motherland Nigeria, Africa. If at all I have any wish left unfulfilled, it is to be worthy of sacred soil of my dear land. It reminded me that I was in exile, that this was not my motherland and I’m an alien here. The thoughts of my father’s old and dilapidated hut, my inheritance and my childhood friends. I remembered them all, how deeply i wished I was in my homeland.

I couldn’t wait any longer, I booked a flight from England to Nigeria. I landed at Nnamdi Azikwe Airport at Lagos, then I took a taxi to my village that was situated amidst of green big trees and valleys. My eyes was filled with tears, as I looked through the window of the taxi, I said to myself, “These wasn’t my motherland for which I was pining to my exile.”
When I got down from the taxi, my heart panicked as I thought of seeing my father’s hut and my childhood friends. As I drew closer to my village, I felt indescribable joy in my heart, every object seemed wondrous to me. “Ah!”, I couldn’t find the river, it has been turned into something else, big houses were on it. I could remember I and my friend swimming in the river back then. The youths no longer believe in education and get a good job anymore, the little one’s no longer play and sing poems anymore, but they’re all engaged with their phones.

I tried searching for my childhood companions, but they were all long dead, now I’m all alone in this cruel world. My old dilapidated father’s hut, where I enjoyed the carefree days of my childhood was now reduced to a heap of dust. Now, all my imagining of my motherland was totally different, my hospitable village no longer welcomes travelers. This is surely another place.

I remember a hotel built in my village before I left for greener pasture, maybe I might find a room to pass the night.

“OH! No”, it has become an abode of debauchery and drunkenness.

Seeing this, my heart bleeds out for my homeland. Should I go back to my wife and children in England and I die there?

No, I won’t.

Walking hopeless and homeless, thinking of where I can pass the night.

“What about the Old Catholic Church?” I thought to myself.

I could hear the church bell from afar, The church looked so beautiful and big now, I stepped inside to listening to the melodious voices of the female singers, it filled my heart brimmed with pleasure. I was in the state of trance when I heard some people talking among themselves, then I saw the Priest and I narrated everything to him. He welcomed me and gave a place to stay.

It’s morning, the villagers are all in the street, people watching masquerades dancing to the sounds of the drums. A colorful day, it’s a day to celebrate “New Yam Festival”. Happiness in the air, my heart leapt once again and I spoke out loudly, “Yes, this indeed is my land, my dear motherland, my Nigeria.” I could see the connection and happy in their faces, I had cherished the desire to visit it, now I long to be interred in its soil. I was in a state of supreme ecstasy, I took off my jacket and danced around the masquerade as others did.

”’Yes, I’m in my own motherland now.” This my beloved homeland.
My family keep asking me to return to England, I can’t leave behind my dear land, I would like my ashes to be surrendered to her. No worldly temptations or distractions can now lure me away from my motherland. My only desire is to die in my own land.



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10 comments
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Hmmm... All these sweet words for Nigeria?

There is no doubt that home is different from anyother place although, this home we have in Nigeria seems to be dancing on a pendulum.

Well, let's wait and see if it will be a place that we will be proud to call home once more.

Well Done Bro.
It's Nicely narrated

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Lol, well bro just don't want to paint my country bad.. Well hope for a better development, i just can't use the word 'Change' because it has failed us.

Thanks bro for your support.

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Nice story. Welldone.

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Thanks bro for reading, i'm glad you liked it.

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Forced migration, as I always say, sucks. I have understood this now, when a very high percentage of my compatriots have had to migrate to have a better life. However, your story is beautiful, because migration was a personal decision, perhaps not as urgent as the exodus experienced by the Venezuelan people. I found this story to be poetically beautiful and hopeful. I liked your ending very much. Greetings and blessings.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

La migración forzada, como siempre digo, es un asco. Esto lo he comprendido ahora, cuando un altísimo porcentaje de mis compatriotas ha tenido que migrar para tener una mejor vida. Sin embargo, tu relato es hermoso, porque la migración fue una decisión personal quizás no tan urgente como al éxodo que experimenta el pueblo venezolano. Me pareció este relato de una belleza poética y esperanzadora. Me gustó mucho su final. Saludos y bendiciones.

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Exactly, everyone is searching for greener pastures and some finds it and others find pain.
Thanks for reading my story dear. Greetings too

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Que dulces palabras al recordar, recrear tu patria querida y amada.. Sin duda alguna no hay mejor lugar que nuestro cálido hogar, recordar a nuestros amigos y las vivencias de nuestra infancia. Saludos.

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Los recuerdos se alegran y valoran mejor, gracias por leer mi historia querida. Saludos

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(Edited)

Hello @ubani1 I understand someone's yearning to return to their home.

It seems that no matter where a person is on whatever continent, it's their family with them, their children, and grandchildren that counts.

The yearning must have been so strong to return to his homeland that it outweighed the love and support of his family, especially if never intends to return.

Thanks for sharing your story.

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Yeah, the urge or love for his homeland was more then for his family. Though this is a fictional story, in reality it hardly heard that one will abandon his family for his homeland.
Thanks for stopping by dear.

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