I have traveled extensively across the globe, visiting countries on every habitable continent—except Australia. Despite these journeys, I’ve never found it captivating enough to remain in any one country for more than two weeks. There’s something about being in a place where you’re constantly tracked, monitored, or required to declare your return date that feels stifling.
In many developed nations, life is so efficient and orderly that it becomes monotonous. Everything works like clockwork—too perfectly. It’s almost dull. Back home, we’re used to a different rhythm: getting frustrated when “NEPA takes light” and jubilant when power is restored. As we say in Hausa, “Mun saba da wahala”—we are used to hardship.
I recall a trip with my brother, Dr. Hakeem Baba-Ahmed, to a serene Swiss village. It was so calm and quiet, I had to escape and leave him behind. Similarly, in Kuwait in 2011, after being hosted by the government for a month, some of us couldn’t bear the repetitive meals of lamb and rice. We had to return home early—boredom was a valid excuse.
Despite our challenges, Nigeria is seen as unique by the rest of the world—sometimes for the right reasons, other times not. During my visits to São Paulo and Buenos Aires, I found that Nigerians are highly respected in football. I was often asked about our legendary footballers, some of whom I haven’t even met.
In North America, Nigerians are seen in two contrasting lights: as perpetrators of online fraud, and at the same time, as highly intelligent, industrious individuals. Across Africa, Nigerian movies have massive followings. I’ve been asked about films I’ve never watched and celebrities I haven’t met—even though some are my personal friends.
Nigeria is a land of contradictions. One day, headlines scream of Boko Haram or a “Nigerian prince” caught in a scam; the next, the world is celebrating the Grammy wins of Tiwa Savage, Tems, Burna Boy, or Davido. On one hand, some citizens are caught with drugs abroad, and on the other, Nigerians are winning international Qur’anic recitation contests.
We are not a perfect country, and we are not perfect people. But then again, I’ve never seen a perfect country with perfect people. There’s something strangely beautiful in our chaos—and that’s why, no matter where I go, home keeps calling me back.
