The IJGB Experience in Nigeria

Note: This was largely based on the overcrowded experience in Lagos when I visited in Dec. 2016, but loosely relates to Abuja as well. I wrote this in Jan. 2017, but never published it.

"Hey girl, I didn't know you were around. When did you get back?"

That's how most of my conversations begin whenever I run into someone for the first time when visiting Nigeria.

"Really, you just got in, and you're already out...Na wa oh! You're rocking. Na you dey enjoy!"

Out at Zenbah, the same Thursday night I arrived

The IJGB phenomenon, also known as I Just Got Back, was coined in reference to the return of scores of Nigerians living in the diaspora; usually visiting during the Christmas holiday period or relocating back home. What started out as a sarcastic, but humorous way of distinguishing us from our counterparts with local addresses, has become a term used with disdain. In a lot of cases, with good measure.

The 2016 holiday period was particularly special because virtually every local I encountered assumed I came back to flenjo, a slang that indicates one's intent to flaunt your wealth, goodies or whatever it is that is sure to identify one as someone of esteem.

"Hmmm...you guys are not playing this year oh! See how all of una (all of you) just pack yourselves come because you want to come and oppress us with your dollars and pounds."

Amid economic and political issues in Nigeria, the Naira has significantly plunged in value to the current black market rate of N480 to $1 and N590 to £1. And the Christmas holidays are notorious for a major spike in prices, not just because it is the holidays, but with so many people back home with cash to spend, vendors are willing to take advantage of our [presumed] cluelessness for the value of local products and services. So it's no wonder that locals abhor our coming back. Did I also mention that the already insane traffic hold ups in Lagos seemingly quadruples with the influx; particularly around the Lagos Island axis?

I've never liked being referred to as an IJGB for many reasons, but this year was even more annoying to be tagged a returnee. For one, it was my second trip to Nigeria this year; something I have never done before (and hope to never do again.) As much as I love my country, I am not fond of flying home every year because of how expensive it gets. When you're flying from the U.S. compared to Europe, ticket prices can sometimes climb into the $2,000 range for an economy seat. That's pretty insane to me considering as an avid traveler, I have so many countries I'd like to visit; and can visit for much less. And that includes my hotel, food and entrance fees to tourist attractions (none of which I typically have to pay for in Nigeria.) Both trips were to attend the weddings of close friends, which skipping would have come at a steep penalty (say the loss of a friendship.) Needless to say, I definitely wouldn't have made two trips if I didn't have to.

Traditional and white wedding in Lagos

There's also the superficial accent you're expected to return with. Everyone MUST know I don't live in Nigeria, as if this somehow establishes my level of wealth or status in Nigeria. I've watched too many returnees perpetuate this myth that because we've been gone for so long, we inevitably lost our ability to communicate with our original accents. Even people I know who left Nigeria barely two years ago are guilty of this crime, and I don't want to be associated with this generalization.

So hot and humid even my hair suffered

But the biggest reason I hated coming back this year is that I despised benefiting from the deplorable value of our currency. While I can't deny that having more money at my disposal felt nice, as a Nigerian, I could never derive pleasure in knowing that our currency is slowly becoming as worthless as the Zimbabwean dollar. It is shameful celebrating the fact that I'd have a lot more money than on previous visits. Never mind that this didn't encourage me to spend any more or less than I normally would.

 





Most of us spend about two weeks on average in Nigeria, and then everything goes back to the way it was. This holiday period, I chose to come in earlier than I ever did, and stay longer than I ever have. In nearly a month, I have come to realize that despite the raised eyebrows we draw from the moment we join the custom's arrival queue at Murtala Muhammad International Airport in Lagos or Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport in Abuja, IJGBs are essential to the Nigerian holiday experience. You feel our presence everywhere: from the countless concerts and parties in Lagos to the Eastern Shores, which are a must-go for Igbo indigenes. And as much as our local brethren might hate to admit it, we bring a different, but much needed kind of excitement to this struggling country, no matter how short-lived the excitement is. For me, I may complain about everything from the excess heat to the rude customer service, but nothing beats going home. Going back gives me a chance to reconnect with all the things I grew up on: going to the market, eating tasty (and real) food, and hanging out with my friends. Nothing in the U.S. beats that. Which is why I know I'll be headed back again sometime soon!

Do you have any stories to share about the IJGB experience? Share it in the comments.

Private beach house party with friends

Falz performing at the Rhythm 93.7 Christmas concert

Oando Christmas party

Post blog update: I returned to Nigeria in Jan. 2018 for yet another wedding; this time in Abuja. See, I told you I couldn't stay away!