The Side of Immigration No One Talks About | Life Abroad as an African Immigrant

Hia and welcome back to the channel. So the last month or so quite a few things happened that really got me thinking about the emotional side of immigration. Right. So a friend of mine lost her dad and last month he was being buried back home but she couldn't go. Don't ask me why. Another friend just had a baby and her mom's visitor visa was denied. The mom that is coming for Mugo. For those who don't know what um is, um is the traditional act of a grandmother coming to take care of her grandchild and daughter after child birth. This mother can't come because her visa was denied. That's a whole experience that mother, daughter, and grandchild will probably miss. And then there was me standing in my kitchen at 6:00 p.m. last Saturday, stirring a pot of bonus soup that I had cooked just like my mom had taught me to do. Except this time it didn't taste like hers. Not even close. And this is not the first time I'm cooking a soup. But for some reason, I just could not explain. I just stood there suddenly missing home so badly like it felt my my chest couldn't hold it in. Not just because of the soup. Okay, maybe a little because of the soup, I think. But because in that moment, I would have given anything to be sitting at my mother's table and hearing her say, "You added too much water." She that got me thinking. You see, when we talk about immigration, we focus on the steps, how to get here, the documents that you need, how to settle them, how to make money. But what about what it costs? Because when you have seen she trying to move to Canada and you finally got your visa, the only thing that you are thinking about is how to pack everything you own into two suitcases, how to buy winter jackets, how to sell your things, how you are finally coming to Canada. It's good. It's a good feeling. But no one warned you about what you are leaving behind and what you are coming to face here. So, in this video, we're going to talk about what we don't talk about enough. The fact that some people haven't seen their parents in 7 years. The fact that some mothers japad and left their children when they were 5 years old and now one of the children is in university. The fact that siblings have not hugged themselves for almost 9 years. The fact that relatives back home, even parents, are passing away while their kids are 25,000 m away. H, it's sad. Somebody told me the other day that I have no idea how it feels to watch your younger brother become a man on WhatsApp, to see your parents getting older on video calls that keep freezing because of network. to miss birthdays, weddings, even funerals because for some reason you moved abroad and have not been able to go back home since then. Is immigration tearing families apart? One sibling is in UK, another one is in Canada and yet another one is in Europe and parents are in Nigeria. Is that what family is supposed to be? H and let's not even talk about the food. You crave the taste of home in ways that you didn't even expect. Not just the big party firewood jolaf fry so but the simple things hot or puff from a roadside seller but leang ground not the suya that Muhammad sells at the corner your mom's agusi soup that somehow always tastes better than the one you cook. You try to recreate it but it's never quite the same. The spices here are not anything to write home about. The tomatoes here are different. Even the rice it doesn't behave like the one we have back home. You just miss the food. And sometimes you're not just missing food, you're missing memory, identity. And on top of that, even after years abroad, you can still feel out of place. Trust me, you laugh when you're supposed to. You smile when you're unsure. At work, you nod with a wide smile, even though you don't even understand the joke. Because the culture here, it's different. At home, greetings mattered. Respect was in the tone of your voice. The way you do when you speak to an elder. The way you said good morning. Here people call elders by their first name. Numa and your child is not saying whatever mom. Hey, you're constantly switching between your home self and your abroad self. Sometimes you feel too African for her. You dress differently. You speak differently. You even walk differently. Now, even then, sometimes you still feel like an outsider. It's just like living in between two worlds and never fully belonging to either one. It's insane. And then you start missing the chaos you once complained about back home. Back home, there was always something happening. Someone stopping by unannounced at your house. A neighbor knocking just to gist. Loud music from three streets away. loud church drums on a Wednesday night. For some reason, there was laughter, noise, life. People were moving on the street, gisting at the top of their voices. If you sit down in your veranda, there's enough entertainment on the street for you. Even argument had rhythm. But here in Canada, it's so quiet, too quiet. You walk down the street and no one greets you. The silence on the street is heavy. Everyone minds their business and at first it feels like peace until it starts to feel like loneliness. You just miss your community. Back home, your problems weren't just yours. Your aunties, your cousins, your uncles, even your neighbors would join the conversation uninvited. It was annoying then until you realize now that it was love. Here you're on your own. Independence is the culture. Privacy is sacred. And somehow that feels very very isolating. What about the parties? You miss the Saturday or wambe the unplanned birthdays. The way people danced like their knees had no bones. You miss the noise you tried to escape from. H you see homesickness is real low. You are homesick not just for a place but for a way of life. And then there's the culture shock that creeps in slowly. Not just for you but even for your children. For those who have children or who will have children, you wanted to give them a better life. But sometimes you wonder if they are growing up without roots. Some of them have never met their cousins. They don't know the aunties who would have spoiled them silly or the uncles who would have dragged them to eat Sunday rice at grandma's house. They don't speak your language. They don't know the games that you played or the songs that you sang at night when Nepa took flight. One day you'll realize that they probably have never even been to your country if you give birth to them here and maybe they never will because somehow when you calculate the flight tickets to visit home, you will respect yourself because it could be very very expensive to travel. You watch them grow up safe, educated, confident, all the things you wanted for them, but you also watch them being disconnected from your culture. They belong here, but they don't know where you came from. And when they say we are Canadians, claiming Canada as their home and somehow pushing your home country aside, you wonder because you're not even sure how to handle that situation anymore. Hm. A lot of people dream of moving abroad for that soft life. Clean streets, steady electricity, good pay, a system that works. But the reality is that it's not always what it looks like. Sometimes it's someone crying quietly on the bus, wondering why winter feels so depressing. Sometimes it's skipping meals just to send money home so your siblings can go to school. It's family back home thinking that you're leaving large hair because you posted a picture at a park not knowing that you were there to clear your head and cry in peace. Black tax is a story for another day. Truly, immigration doesn't just test your body. It tests your mind too. You smile at work. You laugh with colleagues. You reply, "I'm good." when you asked how are you. But inside, you're not good. You're tired. You wake up heavy, anxious. You cry in the shower. You wonder, was this a mistake? But you keep going because who are you going to tell who? Back home, mental health wasn't something that we really talked about. If you said that you were overwhelmed, you would hear it is well with you or the Lord is your strength. Even here in this new world with access to mental health help, it's hard for us to admit that we're struggling. Because you keep thinking, "I'm supposed to be strong. I'm not supposed to be weak." But mental health is real. Depression is real. Burnout is real. And what makes it harder is that loneliness, that isolation. You don't have the support system you had back home. You can't just walk next door to cry to your neighbor. Everything requires a schedule, a call or an appointment. It's insane. And that's why community matters, safe spaces matter, therapy matters. Sometimes you just need one person to say, "I feel it too." Sometimes you just need to meet someone just like you who has gone through what you are going through and was able to push through. You need community. We all need community. I know you don't want to hear this one, but like it or not, immigration affects marriages. Back home, things were clear. Everybody knows their place. But here, the roles can change. Sometimes the wife is now earning more. The husband is doing school runs. Expectations are different. For some couples who moved together, the pressure could be real. bills, work, the kids, no nanny, no baser, no auntie to help, just the two of you exhausted, snapping at each other, trying to survive. Sometimes love grows in that environment. And sometimes love dies. Marriages break, especially when understanding is lacking and both parties are unwilling to adjust. Money plays a huge part, too. Who pays for what? Who sends money home? who is sacrificing their dreams for the family to survive. I have heard though some people even say one spouse takes the opportunity of being abroad to show the other spouse shy. It's an opportunity to pay back especially because the society here is very partial to women over men. Some women in a bid to exert themselves have caused problem for their homes. Women please be wise. Please, please. And for those that are trying to date abroad, it's a whole different culture. You're navigating new ideas about love, gender roles, dating apps, and the vibes here. You may find love, yes, but you may also feel invisible, misunderstood, or judged by your accent, your background, your values, your status. Love in a diaspora is not a walk in the park. That's what I heard, though. But it's not all doom and gloom. Actually, some couples reinvent themselves. Some people find love they never imagined. Some learn to communicate deeper, build stronger, even become more intentional in their relationship. But the truth is that immigration will shake your relationship. And only true real love will stand the test. But after all is said and done, immigration is still a beautiful thing. We just have to know what to expect, how to adjust, and how to thrive despite all the challenges. Yes, it comes with some pain, with sacrifice, with moments that break you down for no logical reason. But it also comes with growth. You discover parts of yourself that you didn't know existed. You become stronger, more resourceful. You learn how to survive in two worlds, how to carry your culture with pride while navigating another culture. You open doors for the next generation, even if you had to crawl through bureaucracy to get here yourself. You become the bridge between back home and abroad. You teach your children where they come from while giving them a chance at something different. You build new community. That's the one I love. you learn how to start again. And sometimes in the middle of winter when the cold is biting you and you are shivering, you might just catch yourself smiling because you realize that you're not just surviving, you're becoming. And I honestly love that. So to every immigrant out there holding it together, starting from scratch, carrying the weight of two continents on your back, you are not alone. And this journey, though it's hard, it's still worth it. You may not always feel sin, but you are doing something big. And one day, whether it's your child graduation, you buying your first house, you getting that dream job, or just that quiet moment when the heater is on and your fridge is full of groceries. You'll realize, "Hey, I made it." Yes, you made it. You honestly did. And I am so proud of you. Now, I want to hear from you. What's been the hardest part of immigrating for you? And what's been the most unexpectedly beautiful part of it? Let's talk about it in the comments. No filters, no shame, just honesty. Because this community, this space, it's for us to learn from each other. If you found any part of this video helpful or healing, please like, share, and subscribe. It will reach more people and help more people like us feel a little bit less lonely because sometimes we all just need to hear someone say you're not alone in this. I too went through that. Thanks so much for watching and remember you are doing better than you think.