Soaring To A Downfall

“So how did you get to the U.S, did you have to use a half-broken down canoe, or did you swim across the ocean to get here”. These few statements marked one of my worse school moments.

It was 2016 when my mom, younger brother, and I were finally able to attain our visa to come to America. Of course, it was an exciting moment for all of us in the family, my mom was so happy that she did a huge thanksgiving in church. As for me, I was more excited that I finally get a break from fasting and prayer; now it wasn’t the prayer part that had me, but the part where I was to abstain from sugar and meat during that period. Sugar and meat, the two basic things I can’t live without. If you are thinking “not until you get cavities”, yes I got one later on but that’s a story for some other time.

Almost every person from a third-world country has the dream to be able to travel to the U.S because it was rumored to be full of opportunities, dreams, rights, and freedom. So you can imagine the joy of my family and relatives most especially me when I was chosen out of my three other siblings to be the one to go to America. As a kid, I grew up watching Nickelodeon, Disney channels, you know the “every childhood” channels. They gave me a firm impression of what America was to be like, a place mostly populated with the white ethnicity and a very few black ethnicities, kids didn’t have to wear uniforms to school, most importantly they could talk back to their parents and voice their opinions. Now that right there was a taboo in my country Nigeria. There was nothing called opinions or facts from a younger person, the moment they sense you open your mouth to talk back to them, it’s a flip flop to your face. My most dreaded fear.

Now the channels on TV painted America in that image for me. The very thing I seek but didn’t know as a child - freedom. Comes February 2016, it was time for us to come to America, we packed our bags, gave away unwanted things, cleared our rooms. The coming up week my older brother and my dad dropped us off at the airport, I didn’t get to see my very eldest brother which made me even sadder leaving my country. Nonetheless, I made up my mind to focus on my upcoming life.

After all the airport hassle and delayed flight, we finally got to America. On exiting the airport, I didn’t feel as excited as I thought I would. For some odd reasons I still can’t explain, it didn’t feel like I’d arrive somewhere new. Sure I was really curious about the snow I saw, but that was about the only excitement I experienced.

The first state we lived in was Brooklyn, NY. We lived with one of our relatives in an apartment building that had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room. It was an already tight living condition for four people, so adding three of us to the equation was ...let's just say wasn't great for anyone. Me and my family head to sleep on one bed, we had no property except the three boxes we brought and barely thick coats that could only keep out the early winter cold and not a snowstorm cold. It was there the first challenge started.

A few months into living with those relatives, they got tired of us. They started by not paying for the internet bill. We had nothing to keep ourselves company, I and my brother practically sat bored all day doing nothing. Soon enough, it was time to start school. We were admitted to a school close to the apartment, my mom was able to get us a coat and uniforms after joggling jobs and selling some of her jewelry.

On the first day of school, I was so confused because the building was like a maze. I was also lost as to how their school system worked. My Nigerian accent was a dead giveaway that I was a foreigner and so all the kids had a curiosity towards me at first. They all stared at me curious about why I transferred into their school so late and what country I was from. However, all that curiosity died out as soon as they discovered I was from a third-world country Nigeria. My first isolation started when the English teacher asked for a volunteer in the class to read a page out of the novel we were reading. I guess everyone thought it would be funny to have the new girl with the funny accent read an entire page from a book, and so one boy; a self-proclaimed class clown and the famous boy decided to nominate me to read. Now I, already getting fed up with the stares and dumb comments towards me, glared at him. He noticed my glare and hit me with a snide remark about not staring at him or he could punch me, something along that line. When class was over, he then moved on to tell the entire class about our little encounter, which prompted everyone to peg me as the rude kid from then on. The boy would often tell me I sounded funny, and I'd often think that he sounded like he had bubbles stuck in his throat and needed to have a long session of coughing and heaving to sound normal.

Every time I tried to talk to someone they would all give me short replies or act as if they didn't hear me. They would all always be on their phone, in class or out of class. Always texting, watching videos on Facebook, talking about the latest videos and memes. While I on the other hand was always alone. During lunch or recess time I always had no one to talk to, I'd envy the girls that were always laughing, hanging out in groups, and the boys that were always playing basketball and trying to flirt with the girls. Now I wasn't the popular kid at school in my country, but at least I had a decent amount of people to talk to, and almost everyone in the same grade as me knew me. However, here... I was nothing. I was air, no one would talk to me, I was always lost, I didn't even have a phone to keep myself company during lunchtime. I'd always wander around the entire school to keep myself busy. At one point, I met another girl from my country, she came to the United States way back before me, she didn't have a thick accent like mine which made her able to get along with a few people. Nonetheless, I guess even she was struggling to be part of the cool kids so she didn't bother to get along with me either.

This went on for a while, uncomfortable at home, uncomfortable at school, soon enough I started to lose myself. There was this other girl from an Arab country, she too transferred late and so I thought we could be friends since she seemed new and sat next to me in English class. Although that was my thought at first until I learned she too was being isolated. I guess I got so caught up in trying to be friends with everyone else, that I'd only make little to no casual talks with her. I'd also often get mad when she calls me "yo" instead of my name. To be fair she had a bit of a nasty attitude which made it hard to get along with her, but looking back at it now I guess she may have just been misunderstood just like me. I also found myself sometimes gossiping about someone just like the other girls. Time went on like this for about half a year until we graduated and it was time to move on. Prom came no one asked me to be their prom date and so I was stuck with this kid that kept staring at my boobs, and he may have been the one that tried to feel me up from behind with his little man down below while we were on the dance floor. I graduated with a 96% average overall score which was pretty good considering I came to the school late, but it's all thanks to the hard course given in my country. They give you a level 6 when you are just at level 2. Also, need it to be mentioned that on the day of graduation I cried. I have no idea why, maybe I got carried along with the flow, but I found myself thinking I was going to miss that place. Perhaps I was just scared of what comes next, or perhaps I was just one to not like change, who knows.

Winter 2016-2017. I was already in high school. It was a ways from my house, so I had to commute by taking the bus every day, thankfully the bus stop was a two-minute walk from the apartment. Things were still not looking bright for me and my family. It was getting worse in the apartment we lived in. We would always be accused of being food mongers, taking up space, staying at home doing nothing. There was even a time I had to listen to my mom get insulted by a relative way younger than her. "We aren't running a charity home" they would say, "You also have to contribute to the rent". They took advantage of us, I'd be the one cleaning their house, the bathroom, cooking for them sometimes, and going to the store that's miles away on foot in that cold winter. We tried to keep as much low profile as possible, so my mom upon coming back late from work would buy little snacks to fill her stomach on the way since the food in the house would be gone by the time she got back. That was a wrong move, because they got mad that she would eat in the room, and she got accused of being selfish and hiding food from them all the while eating their food.

Since things weren't exactly great at home, I thought maybe my new high school would give me the break I needed because it was going well so far, but apparently, the universe had other plans. High school kids being the little demon they are started a joke about my ethnicity. Sometime in the cafeteria, I was having lunch with the few friends I was able to make. We were all having talks about where we were from, and when I told time I was from Nigeria, and for that, I got asked the dumbest question I have by far heard in my life. A kid asked, "I thought you were from Africa?" I had to stop for a moment to double-check where am from exactly because the confidence that the boy asked the question in was outstanding. I replied that I was from Nigeria and that Nigeria was a country located in the continent of Africa, which made them even more confused. That was only the first draw. The second draw was when someone wanted to toss out a leftover pizza and was told to give it to me because people in my country needed it more than the trash can. I replied that while I was grateful for the thoughts, there were lots of homeless people blocks away from them, and they could start by giving them the food. Then came the third draw. A girl decided to speak up in all ignorance and asked if I got to the country by using an almost broken down boat, or if I swam across the ocean to get here. If it was a joke or if they were completely ignorant I couldn't decide, because of the early nonsensical questions. I told them I flew in a plane legally into the country, but they found it hard to believe and looked at me like I sold all my assets and house to get to the states. Now it is to be mentioned that in my country, my family is somewhat of a middle class. We had a fairly decent income and living style so I never considered myself poor nor did I think I was rich. However, to those people, I was the poorest being in the school, because I did indeed didn't have much after coming to the states.

From then onward came so many draws. They would often make up comments that I smelled bad and probably didn't have the liberty of taking a shower, they were always curious as to what kind of house I lived in. I didn't even know their opinion of me was so bad until the time I was added to their Facebook group chat by mistake and saw the things they said about me. They were false rumors that there was a cockroach on my bag, and that they may have also seen a rat peeking out. They would form a big deal of sitting anywhere around me, "she smells bad" they would tell the teacher. They treated the girl the same way as me saying she also smelled bad and would then proceed to group us. Things were so bad that I once stuck my cold wet hair outside the bathroom window in the freezing night hoping I would catch a cold that would keep me out for weeks if not a month. However, be damned my strong immune system, I never caught that sickness, not even once, and had to keep up with school. In class, I would always find myself wishing the ground opened up so I could fall inside, or some kind of emergency came up so I could leave school. None of those happened. My only saving grace during that time was that I was doing well at school, had my essays hung up in the hallways, received honor rolls, and great feedback from teachers.

Things kept up, it was already summer. Nothing was getting better I'd say it was far from getting better. We were getting kicked out of the apartment, I and my brother would go to the library every single day to not be in that house and stay out of their way. We went to the library and church so much that I became a volunteer at the library and started Sunday/weekday classes at church. It was from that church that we then met a woman who offered to rent us the top floor of her house that she was buying in Elizabeth, New Jersey. On a random day, we packed our things and moved away without giving them notice. We simply packed our things suddenly, said goodbye to those relatives of hours, and left. Our loads weren't that much so it could all fit in the lady's car. Although, she also had some of her things with her so it was kind of uncomfortable because I had to carry some things on my body all through the ride.

Upon getting to the new house, we were told that she'd only rent away one room - the biggest room- to us because her daughter would be moving in also together with her husband and her son. We would have to share an apartment floor, which meant the living room, kitchen, and laundry room. For the time being that her family didn't move in yet, I and my brother were able to enroll in schools. I was in high school, while he was in middle school. My school was 40 minutes away from the house, I'd always have to wake up super early just to get to school. I also gave up taking the bus so my mom could save as much money as she could since she barely got a job, and I'd always heard her cry herself to sleep in the night. We had no major qualms with our living conditions at the time, that was until her daughter moved out with her husband and son and the rooms were vacant. This gave the lady the liberty to come up with all kinds of excuses that it was hard to pay the mortgage, and so we either rent out the entire second-floor apartment or we move out. We were still new to Elizabeth so we couldn't possibly find a house off the bat, yet the lady was hell-bent on chasing us out. She did all kinds of things like tempering with the vent in our apartment, so we could neither use AC or heat. We spent almost the entire year of 2017 either wearing coats to sleep or taking four cold showers a day. She'd also make up lies about an inspection and that the people in charge of inspecting needed to check the entire building, and as such, we needed to take all our properties out of the house. It was all an attempt to get us to move our things outside the buildings so she could deny us access back. In that summer, We'd often go to church praying, while searching for apartments we could afford thereafter.

It was in one of those churches that we came across a church coalition for the homeless. They took us in, gave us an apartment for free, and assisted my mom in saving up so we could get our very apartment. This time we had an entire floor to ourselves. We lived in the attic, beds, blankets, kitchen utensils, and other living necessities were provided for us. It was a break from all the crazy things we had been through. The only down part was that we had to share the kitchen and living room with the other residents. We lived there for the time limit we were given, which if I could remember correctly was a maximum of two years. It was then summer of 2018, and we started our searching for a new house, to not run out on our time limit. I and my brother spent almost every day walking around the streets, and internet surfing for new apartments, my mom would also join us when she was back from work. Eventually, we found an apartment towards the end of 2018. We finally had an entire floor of the apartment to ourselves. No sharing of rooms or kitchen whatsoever, we were finally able to live in comfort. I even found a job at a mall after job hunting for a long. I had nice friends at school, and the distance to school was tolerable. I got to have my phone, my bed, we had tv and internet.

It was pretty good for a long while until we were asked to move during the summer of 2019. The excuse given was that the landlady's daughter is sick and they would like her to move into the house where they could watch her. It was then I came to fear the summer because it seemed that during the summer of every year since we came to the United States, we always had to move for some reason or the other. While others were having fun at the beach or vacation, I and my family were apartment hunting, and so since we moved out to our current place when summer was rolling around, I'd always clutch my heart and hold my breath hoping and praying that it isn't another trouble coming along.

Currently autumn of 2021, we haven't moved ever since our last move. My job is going pretty well, am even able to buy my things and my phone. I am currently in college, have great friends, extraordinary friends. Summer of 2021, we didn't go apartment hunting but instead, we got to go on a vacation back to our country. I got to see my family again and spend time with them. My mom has had a steady decent paying job so far, my younger brother also recently got a job and is on his way to getting his driver's license.

Within the span of these four years, we have visited all three places that sent us packing, and how all their visits went, was somewhat fascinating. We paid a surprise visit to our relatives in New York, they weren't too please with the surprise, because when we got there their house was a huge mess. They probably weren't pleased with the fact that we met them in that state, so they gave the excuse of pest extermination. The mother asked me why I was acting uncomfortable and that I should help myself with the food in the kitchen. Of course, I took half a plate of food; barely anything. Supposedly even after all those times, the eldest son who got married shortly before we moved out is still living in his mom's apartment together with his younger brother who neither goes to school and barely works. While their uncle was still jobless and they all had problems with him like they did to us. The second lady was having problems with her husband before we moved out and still didn't fix it yet, while her son barely came home. While the third apartment we moved out from, didn't have their daughter move in, and I know because when I went to collect our mails from there, I saw the sign that the apartment was on rent.

Now looking back on the timeline and everything that has happened made me realize that things always get better. It may come slow, but it will always surely get there. We went from having only one bed, to having only one room. to a shared apartment, moving to an apartment with two rooms, and finally a good, spacious apartment, with each of us having our rooms and a job. I also went from having no one to talk to, to having a tight circle of great friends. Which is proof that not everyone is mean, it may just be their teenage hormones acting up. The moral is that it always gets better, sure it may get worse in the future, but through my experience, I know that after the storm, comes the rainbow.