FROM KANO TO ANTARCTICA – KNOWING MY PLACE

I am an ordinary woman from a conservative middle-class family. No, I am not a dual citizen; I have always had just one nationality. I am also not “foreign-bred”. I was born and raised in Nigeria. This clarification is necessary to underscore the fact that foreign exposure or influence did not shape my aspirations, as many people are quick to assume. 

The most critical cultural expectation for a woman from my background is to find a husband from a reputable family and get married as soon as she comes of age. Within my circle, a woman comes of age right after secondary school. Soon after marriage, the woman should have children and dedicate the rest of her life to raising the kids, taking care of the home, and pleasing the husband. Any other ambition comes second to that and must never interfere with the responsibilities of the primary expectation.

I was a creative child with an active imagination. I spent significant time wandering in the backyard, hanging from the overhead water tank tower or the guava tree daydreaming, playing with cats, and riding my bike. I also had a couple of books in which I scribbled random musings and drew.

I dreamt about how I would one day change the world, end wars and suffering, discover something magical, or achieve something ground-breaking. Even though some of my aspirations seemed unrelated: singer, archaeologist, writer, astronaut, poet, supermodel, or astrologist, and changed constantly, they had one thing in common – they were all far beyond the lines of societal expectations.

As I approached my teens, society put me in “my place” in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. My mother started shopping for pots, dishes, and ornaments for my matrimonial home. Close and distant family conversations included the impending marriage of my sister and me, the big wedding ceremony, and the kind of homes we would make. And as I surrendered to the cultural take on my future, all my childhood dreams — once akin to jiggled soda bottles had their caps slowly untwisted and left outside.

After I completed secondary school, I secured admission to get a Law Degree at two reputable universities in cities outside my state of origin. Some relatives believed it was improper for me to attend any university outside the state before marriage and without permission from the husband. A family member even went out of his way to secure admission for me to instead, obtain a Diploma from the university in my state. 

Despite all the antagonism, and to the displeasure of many people, I went on to study Law at a university outside my state. I refused to succumb to the pressure to remain in “my place”. This was not out of recalcitrance, but because I did not want to end up like many women around me, who seemed unhappy and unfulfilled after succumbing to the same pressure. I always felt like there had to be something more out there for me, and I wanted to find out what it was. 

On the other hand, my older brother obtained his first degree from a university in Nigeria considerably farther than the one I attended. He then went to the United Kingdom for a postgraduate degree without an iota of antagonism. Mildly optimistic about being allowed to obtain a postgraduate degree overseas, just like my brother, I researched schools and started applying for admission. I had set myself up for disappointment. 

I was reminded about the most fundamental expectation once again. It was clear that I would never be allowed to study overseas without first getting married and obtaining the husband’s ever-so-elusive permission. I resigned to my fate and applied for a distance learning programme instead. 

Throughout the crisis and for several years thereafter, I sensed how torn my father was between letting me thread my path, knowing how much potential I had, and giving into the whims and caprices of what society wants him to expect from me. I sensed it in the way he downplayed my subsequent educational and career achievements, even though his eyes said he was proud of me.

By this time, I had let go of much-loved hobbies and lost my creative abilities. I became bitter, disconnected, and aloof, which affected my relationship with family members and long-term friends. I was frustrated by my inability to live up to societal expectations. Making a positive impact on the world was the least of my problems. How could it be when I could not even help myself?

As tumultuous as this phase was, in hindsight, it was probably necessary for the growth that I eventually experienced. The gradual disconnection from family and friends, meaningless interactions and routines forced me to spend time with myself and introspect. 

I began to read more books and articles and watched documentaries. I also took up writing, painting, and tinkering again. I paid more attention to my diet, became more spiritual, and started taking long quiet walks. I became more intentional with doing things I loved and interacting with people that helped me grow. 

These habits allowed me to ponder on my contributions to society and re-kindled the dreams of the 8-year-old girl who wanted to be a productive member of society. I worked, saved, and capitalised on opportunities to see places I had never been to and interact with people from all walks of life. 

Today, I have been fortunate enough to visit twenty-three countries, mostly solo. Travelling and learning about great civilisations that have disappeared humbled me and widened my perspective on life and its transience. It also ignited in me a passion for the rights of women and animals and the planet’s sustainability.

Exploring the world, including Antarctica, was one of those dreams I once thought I could achieve. I kept it on my bucket list even though as time ticked away, I told myself that it was one of those outlandish things I would never get to do — it was not “my place”. 

At the beginning of 2022, having finally convinced myself that the self-imposed limits and those placed by society were illusionary, I decided to strike one more item off my bucket list. In December 2022, that girl from a conservative middle-class family from the Northern part of Nigeria, supposedly destined for a mundane, unfulfilled life, embarked on an extraordinary expedition to Antarctica. 

I am unaware of how many Nigerians, much less female Nigerians, have visited Antarctica – I would like to imagine that I am in the top five. It is as humbling and fulfilling as it is surreal. I am now sure of MY PLACE. It is wherever I decide it is and in doing the things I am passionate about while contributing to society, whether in Aruba or Zaria. 

Staying close to home, starting a family, and pursuing dreams are not mutually exclusive. Many women find a lot of joy in staying at home and raising kids. But too often, many young women with dreams are told that their dreams are irrelevant and unrealistic. They are then forced to trade those dreams for other dreams that leave them unfulfilled and unable to share their unique value and passion with the world.

I look back and imagine what my life would have been if I had physically and figuratively remained in “my place”. I am glad I did not, and in the interest of society, I pray that more girls and women do the same.