What Feels Like Foreign Territory

Submitted into Contest #51 in response to: Write about someone who returns as an adult to a place they last visited as a child.... view prompt

45 comments

Creative Nonfiction

I waited for maybe a minute before I opened the taxi door. I had momentarily forgotten where I was until the taxi driver looked at me through the glass and communicated everything that I could almost hear it come out of his mouth: “Why you de look me? You no get hand?” I was now in Lagos, a place where doors weren’t opened for you if it wasn’t the person’s job to. I sighed.

As I opened the taxi door and my feet hit the ground, I was hit almost instantly with the Lagosian air I had once loved and now grown to resent. I had no luggage because this wasn’t meant to be a lengthy visit. I only had a handbag because by evening, I was traveling back. I hoped it was with my closure.

People always said home was where the heart was. There was a time when I was so sure that was true. A lot has changed since then. I haven’t been able to refer to anywhere as home in the last eighteen years since my parents took me away from a place I thought was my home. The very day has been engraved in my mind since we left, and I decided I was never coming back.

I had spent so much time in New York, enough time to make me think I was in a new place and things would be different, but not enough time to actually let much change. I had grown up definitely, but I was still the same confused girl I was when I left. Maybe that was why I came back. I needed closure. I needed to get my life back on track.

This was a strange place in the town to ask to be dropped off. It always had been. I was very well aware of this, but there was something I had to do.

So, I walked in this sketchy part of town that was eerily quiet, saying a silent prayer because I wasn’t sure what to expect. Many people could say they disliked all this, but once upon a time, I was a part of all this. A little part of me still is. The Lagosian air that smelt sometimes like smoke or sewage, or sometimes fresh with the breeze so light flowing through your hair. The little things no one noticed about the city. The way everyone spoke in their different dialects that it was so easy to know who came from the same village you did. The way there were over 400 languages and people from each area spoke each one beautifully. Lagos was a combination of all those languages and all those people. It was the heartbeat of the nation.

Everything felt surreal but familiar still. There were some things I almost didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t the places that had changed, I had. I had changed the moment I left this country. I pushed away any thoughts of this place because I thought I could be free of it all if I did. I wasn’t. I am not because everything haunts me.

I am here to visit my best friend. I say it out loud because there’s no turning back after this. I had left fifteen years ago without telling her I was leaving. Maybe that was the reason I hadn’t come back. I was a coward who took my first ticket out of here. I left her, and I wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive me.

That was the reason I hadn’t come back, and I knew it. I didn’t want to face her, but I couldn’t run away from it any longer. Finding her was never the problem because I knew she would be right where she was when I left her. The problem was building up enough courage to actually talk to her.

I thought about her and the things we had done together when we were younger; the images coming to me in flashes.

“They’re always telling us what to do!”

“Yeah,” I replied. “We only went out for ice-cream. It wasn’t even a big deal.” I thought it was a big deal, but I didn’t say that. I said the complete opposite because the last time I had tried to say something she teased me non-stop.

Uchechi loves to defy authority. It’s one of the things she’s best at. As her very best friend and someone who fears what she’s capable of, I go along with it because she supports me whenever I need it, so I feel I should do the same.

We are polar opposites, but we make it work. She’s outgoing and I’m an introvert. She never follows the rules, and I’m a stickler for them. We balance each other that way.

“Dami, what are you thinking about now?”

“Oh nothing,” I replied as she snapped me out of my momentary daydream.

“Good, because we have to get home before our mums come looking for us.”

They had warned us countless times not to cross the roads without looking left and right first, but Uchechi didn’t care. She never failed to remind me that rules weren’t ‘her thing’.

The drivers on Lagos roads were careless. They didn’t care about anything besides getting out of traffic jams or beating traffic lights. Lagosians are famous for something: shortcuts.

I blamed them, but the system in the country was terrible. There were barely traffic lights and the zebra crossings were almost non-existent.

……

It’s hard to compete with a dead person because their memory will always be romanticized. Because no one wants to talk ill of someone dead. It’s like an unspoken rule. But I knew Uche. She wasn’t perfect, but no one is. I knew her and she was my best friend.

I reflect on more things, but I don’t know what to call them. It didn’t feel right referring to them as memories anymore when they were only mine. They didn’t feel like memories because I had no one to share them with now.

I looked around and saw traces of the good I had forgotten in the city I resented. I saw how people cared for each other. I saw how people gathered around a huge pot they had probably used to make a meal for all the inhabitants of the area. I saw the children with smiles on their faces as they sang rhymes and played ‘Ayo’. These were children that had learned to adapt to whatever situation and be satisfied. I remembered the city I loved once as I came closer to the place I had avoided all these years.

As I entered, I searched for the directory and saw the name listed alphabetically before I came to hers: Uchechi Madu, Aged 14 (May 9th, 1978–September 29th, 1992). Till now I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I placed the daisy I had gotten her in a vase and began walking. It was a single flower. A synthetic one. Not the real deal, even though most people would agree this wasn’t okay. It was what she wanted. A single synthetic daisy flower.

I had asked her why, but she hadn’t explained it to me properly. She enjoyed feeling like she was growing up, so I never asked her what she meant when she said things I didn’t understand. But after she died, all the things that didn’t matter suddenly began to. I began to notice things more clearly, and I didn’t like it. It was driving me mad.

I asked her what the daisy represented, and she said they never died. She said they were immortal.

They weren’t.

They aren’t.

But now, I understand what she meant. They lasted much longer than natural flowers. To any natural flower, a time like they lasted seemed like an eternity. She thought it represented how eternity was viewed from different perspectives. Like how a few months seemed like little time to us, but flowers would be dead in a week. 

I still don’t know what I want to say when I reach her grave.

I don’t know what to say when I crouch down in the dirt to be closer to her, to see if I could I feel her.

I don’t know what to say when I read her epitaph. “Here lies Uchechi, gone but never forgotten.”

I don’t know what to say as I place the vase by her headstone.

I have so much to say, but I’m not sure what the most appropriate thing to say is. I’m not sure if I even deserve to feel the way I do. But I don’t care.

“I’ve missed you, Uche,” I whisper as a tear slips out.

“I’ve missed you every day,” I continue as my tears fall faster.

July 22, 2020 22:20

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

45 comments

23:14 Aug 12, 2020

Hi Doubra! Sorry I'm coming back to a story I previously read to say this ( my bad); but I was going through your stories and I noticed something, I think your titles are beautiful and poetic but I also think that the titles don't really hit the point of the story, I don't know if you understand what I mean, but I feel like the titles don't exactly portray what actually happens in the story, don't get me wrong: They are relevant to the story in the sense that it does have something to do with it, but i don't think it buttresses the main poin...

Reply

Doubra Akika
00:15 Aug 13, 2020

I do understand what you're saying. Thank you for pointing this out. I'll try to come up with titles that fit the stories better. Still working on one at the moment. That's the reason I haven't submitted the short story I wrote for this week's prompts. I love your work too! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment on my stories. And I'm happy we're friends too 😁.

Reply

12:12 Aug 13, 2020

;D Can't wait to read it!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
19:49 Aug 11, 2020

Yes! Doubra this was so beautifully written. i'm a Lagosian too (although now i live in Enugu state). it's so nice and the way you use your words is just perfect for allowing the reader actually feel what's going on. wow. I actually love Lagos and Lagosians because we're all just different, people from all over Africa's largest country put together in one state which equals: crazy. love it.

Reply

Doubra Akika
20:44 Aug 11, 2020

Yes! That’s exactly what I was going for. Thank you so much for reading. I’m really happy you liked it.

Reply

22:06 Aug 11, 2020

You're welcome, and please read my new short story, 'Kaima'. God bless!

Reply

Doubra Akika
22:56 Aug 11, 2020

Sure! I'll read it now and Amen. God bless you too.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
21:48 Jul 26, 2020

Great job!!! Would you mind checking out my story ‘Rebel Prince’? Thanks! —Aeriiiiiin!

Reply

Doubra Akika
22:35 Jul 26, 2020

Sure and thanks!

Reply

23:12 Jul 26, 2020

Thanks!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Jade Young
12:24 Jul 26, 2020

Great story! You encompassed the main character's grief so well with the shift between past and present. It made her feelings very palpable and her loss of something important very real and very relatable. Well done!

Reply

Doubra Akika
15:08 Jul 26, 2020

Thank you so much! Happy you liked it.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Charles Stucker
00:17 Jul 24, 2020

At the opening, I wasn't quite sure if you meant Lagos Portugal or Nigeria, though by the end it is obvious. I like how you let a tiny trace of accent come through with your writing. Not a lot, but enough to make it exotic. Your shift at the end from past to present tense makes the impact of the protagonist's grief more immediate. More powerful. It's a good technique, one I have not seen used before. You have one minor edit issue, earlier where you use "It always has been." should remain in past tense, or "It always had been." For your sh...

Reply

Doubra Akika
12:34 Jul 24, 2020

Thank you so much. I will check the edit issue and make sure I sort it out today. Thank you so much for reading. I’m really happy you liked it

Reply

Show 0 replies
19:52 Aug 11, 2020

There's a lagos in Portugal? ( Where's my 'mind blown' emoji ....) haha

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 2 replies
Kelechi Nwokoma
20:28 Jul 23, 2020

Doubra, you described the scent of Lagos air correctly. Anytime I come out of the plane from a trip overseas, there's an air in this state that hits me... I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I love that this story is centred in Nigeria. And you got the character of Lagosians always wanting to take shortcuts. I look at this country sometimes and sigh. But home is where the heart is... If my heart is even here, haha. Great story.

Reply

Doubra Akika
23:12 Jul 23, 2020

Thank you😁. Happy you liked it. I wanted to try writing something centered in Nigeria because I’ve never done anything like that. Yeah, the air in Lagos definitely feels different🤣.

Reply

Kelechi Nwokoma
15:37 Jul 24, 2020

You're welcome. Could you please read my recent story, Next in Line, and give me feedback? I'd really appreciate it.

Reply

Doubra Akika
23:59 Jul 24, 2020

Sure. I’ll take a look now.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
19:50 Aug 11, 2020

You couldn't be more right sister!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 2 replies
14:02 Jul 23, 2020

Hey Doubra, GREAT story! Loved the concept! You are an AMAZING writer Doubra! Keep writing and have a great day Doubra!😄 (Thank you for liking my stories. I really appreciate it!)

Reply

Doubra Akika
18:39 Jul 23, 2020

I really liked reading your stories as well. Thank you for taking a look at my story. I’m happy you liked it. Thanks for the positive comment. Have a great day too!

Reply

07:22 Jul 24, 2020

Thank you so much Doubra!😄 No problem! I'm glad to have read your story! It's GREAT!😉

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
. .
01:44 Sep 02, 2020

Wow! Super creative

Reply

Doubra Akika
07:17 Sep 02, 2020

Thanks so much🤗!

Reply

. .
07:44 Sep 02, 2020

Np

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
17:45 Aug 12, 2020

I love this story and how you described Lagos not going into painstaking details, but just enough details to make the story lovely.

Reply

Doubra Akika
17:52 Aug 12, 2020

Thank you so much!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
19:56 Aug 11, 2020

Let me guess, this is Ajah right? Or Ajegunle? Because i know you're not talking about the elitist towns with the 'no traffic lights' LOLLL The story still has me mind blown.

Reply

Doubra Akika
20:49 Aug 11, 2020

Your comment made my day! And yes, definitely not the elite places 😂😂. I feel like it’s easier to write about Lagos and let people understand it better because people in that environment live together like in a community.

Reply

22:07 Aug 11, 2020

AGREED!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Omani Saleem
08:39 Aug 10, 2020

i loved this story as well, your style of writing is really beautiful it makes the reader feel warm at heart. i love how you described lagos, in a way that only someone who has been part of the city can. i especially loved how you described the children of lagos.it's a really good job.

Reply

Doubra Akika
10:31 Aug 10, 2020

Thank you so much!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Elizabeth M.
16:53 Aug 08, 2020

The grief in this feels so real! Great job!

Reply

Doubra Akika
17:02 Aug 08, 2020

Thank you!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Spencer Pinkus
22:14 Jul 29, 2020

I enjoyed your evocation of the setting. The little details like the ‘air that smelt sometimes like smoke or sewage’ are vivid and atmospheric. The revelation of what happened to Dami’s friend is also well structured.

Reply

Doubra Akika
22:53 Jul 29, 2020

Thank you so much. It’s the first time I’m writing something like that about a place I know really well. I’m happy you liked it😁!

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Nonye Posey
18:44 Jul 29, 2020

Goat good job 👌 I'll read it later but I know it'll be great

Reply

Doubra Akika
19:16 Jul 29, 2020

Sadly, I can't find the facepalm emoji. You can read whenever, though. Means a lot that you took time out to read this.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Batool Hussain
10:37 Jul 29, 2020

Good job!

Reply

Doubra Akika
11:01 Jul 29, 2020

thank you!

Reply

Batool Hussain
13:19 Jul 29, 2020

You're welcome! Mind checking out my new story?

Reply

Doubra Akika
18:47 Jul 29, 2020

Sure 😁

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Show 1 reply
Keerththan 😀
07:53 Jul 28, 2020

Great story and a sad one too. Amazing and well written. Would you mind reading my story "The secret of power" and share your views on it?

Reply

Doubra Akika
10:34 Jul 28, 2020

Sure! Thank you for reading mine.

Reply

Show 0 replies
Show 1 reply
RBE | Illustration — We made a writing app for you | 2024-02

We made a writing app for you

Yes, you! Write. Format. Export for ebook and print. 100% free, always.