The Afro hair and platform shoes are the two of the most memorable fads of the seventies. Flared trousers were in but were not as outstanding as the afro hairdo. Sideburns and wide colorful ties were the in thing for men. I loved my afro and had it up to the late eighties, though not as pronounced as the seventies puff.. This picture was taken at the first Igbo party I attended in Boston after I came. I was very homesick at the time even though I had family. The lifestyle was different. Everybody was on their own.
On September 27, many many years ago. Too many years to count. Actually it was 1976 and America was still glowing from the their bi- centennial celebration. I had just missed it by weeks.
Two hundred years of nationhood with a rich vibrant history, America was still celebrating in little ways. There were reminders of the bicentennial everywhere. America the beautiful signs were still up on street corners and in the trolley, streetcar, subway which were all the names of the public mass transit I rode everyday to Northeastern University down the street on Huntington avenue.It was a ten minute walk to school and on days when I left the house on time,I walked to school and saved the money my sister gave for the trolley ride. I did not have a job yet. I had applied for a work permit and was anxiously waiting for it to come. When I finally got my work permit, I landed a job in the library for $2.40 per hour. I loved working in the library.Before long, with the few hours a day they gave me, it became clear that the library job will not do even with living with my older sister and her family, school expenses had to be taken care of. If tuition lagged behind one was usually withdrawn per action from the bursar's office as they described it. Very few Nigerians in those days had parents or relatives who sent them their school fees from Nigeria in the days when one Naira was about one Dollar and sixty five cents. I remember that clearly because I had a friend who received funds from her father and I would accompany her to the bursar's office to pick up her money. For those of us who had nobody to send them money had to find work and pay our way through. After weeks of looking, I landed a job in a nursing home in East Boston on the 11-7 shift as a nurse's aide. The pay was a mind boggling $3.65 per hour. I was very happy. My sisters popped my balloon when they wanted to know how I would be getting to East Boston at 11 pm at night. I refused to give up the job since I could not find any close to where we lived. I had no experience and this people were willing to train me.
Thus started my working days in America. I bought my uniform and went for training. Being
an Italian neighborhood, most of the residents and workers were Italian. The training was one of the first nightmares I lived through in America. My first nightmare was ending up in the hospital a few days after I arrived with a bout of malaria. I did not understand the American accent so well at the time and it was tough for me. I thought I was dying because of all the tests they were doing and all the questions I was being asked. I later found out that some of the interviewers were students, some residents and they were intrigued by my disease. I wrote a short will and left it under my pillow in which I asked my sisters to make sure I was taken back to Nigeria if I died. My sister was alarmed when she discovered the note and she thought I was depressed, which I was because America was not the bed of roses people have in mind when they are in Nigeria. The next thing I knew, I had nurse's aides staying in my room all the time. One intern would bring me magazines to read and sit and chat with me about Nigeria and his experiences in peace corps in West Africa, I forgot which country. An igbo nurse in the hospital would tease me ----anyi arakwa anu ndi ocha. I thought it was absurd for her to even go there. I was in the hospital for seven days. It felt like seven weeks. On my sixth day, my intern friend came to say goodbye because he was going on to another rotation.
Thus started my working days in America. I bought my uniform and went for training. Being
an Italian neighborhood, most of the residents and workers were Italian. The training was one of the first nightmares I lived through in America. My first nightmare was ending up in the hospital a few days after I arrived with a bout of malaria. I did not understand the American accent so well at the time and it was tough for me. I thought I was dying because of all the tests they were doing and all the questions I was being asked. I later found out that some of the interviewers were students, some residents and they were intrigued by my disease. I wrote a short will and left it under my pillow in which I asked my sisters to make sure I was taken back to Nigeria if I died. My sister was alarmed when she discovered the note and she thought I was depressed, which I was because America was not the bed of roses people have in mind when they are in Nigeria. The next thing I knew, I had nurse's aides staying in my room all the time. One intern would bring me magazines to read and sit and chat with me about Nigeria and his experiences in peace corps in West Africa, I forgot which country. An igbo nurse in the hospital would tease me ----anyi arakwa anu ndi ocha. I thought it was absurd for her to even go there. I was in the hospital for seven days. It felt like seven weeks. On my sixth day, my intern friend came to say goodbye because he was going on to another rotation.
I was very happy to go home. I was very homesick for Nigeria. What I was seeing in America was not what I had bargained for. My sisters, brother and cousins who I was lucky to have were too busy with school, work and everything else to worry about me. It was getting chilly and I complained and was laughed at. I later understood why I was laughed at when winter arrived.
I started school a few days after leaving the hospital. Realizing that I had covered most of what they were teaching us, I mentioned it to my sisters and learned about something called CLEP. With CLEP, I took care of freshman Chemistry, Biology and English. I got my credits for very little cost and saved thousands of dollars in tuition and hours sitting in boring classes. I could have clepped more classes, but I was afraid I would fail. My sister was upset with me that I did not at least try. Months later, I understood where she was coming from. The money and time I would have saved, but I was worried about failing which would not have mattered. Nigerian mentality, I guess---ITK. I spent hard earned cash later to pay for freshman French, freshman physics which I could have also taken care of with CLEP.
I started school a few days after leaving the hospital. Realizing that I had covered most of what they were teaching us, I mentioned it to my sisters and learned about something called CLEP. With CLEP, I took care of freshman Chemistry, Biology and English. I got my credits for very little cost and saved thousands of dollars in tuition and hours sitting in boring classes. I could have clepped more classes, but I was afraid I would fail. My sister was upset with me that I did not at least try. Months later, I understood where she was coming from. The money and time I would have saved, but I was worried about failing which would not have mattered. Nigerian mentality, I guess---ITK. I spent hard earned cash later to pay for freshman French, freshman physics which I could have also taken care of with CLEP.
My job at the nursing home in East Boston started on a Friday night. It was designed that way so I could sleep on Saturday morning. My cousin drove me there that first night and
showed me the subway route to East Boston. I took the green line to downtown Boston where I changed to the blue line to East Boston. Then I had to walk across the railroad down a deserted road to the nursing home. That proved risky during the summer months when teenagers hung around the subway station and they would sometime call me names like the N word and wonder what I was doing in their neighborhood. With my uniform, they knew where I was going that time of night.
The training was an experience I will never forget. I shadowed the experienced nurse's aides
who started teaching me how to turn patients, how to roll them over and give them bedpans. The worst was having to clean those who had soiled themselves with feces and urine. I thought I would die. I was nauseated by the sight, the smell and the wiping action. I thought I would throw up and the ladies kept assuring me that I would get used to it in no time. I did get used to it after a while and was even able to wash up and eat in between patient rounds. Weighing under 130 lbs, turning, lifting and moving patients was a challenge. The other aides taught me how to manage on my own but would still come to help me turn very big patients.
Welcome to America------ to be continued-------
showed me the subway route to East Boston. I took the green line to downtown Boston where I changed to the blue line to East Boston. Then I had to walk across the railroad down a deserted road to the nursing home. That proved risky during the summer months when teenagers hung around the subway station and they would sometime call me names like the N word and wonder what I was doing in their neighborhood. With my uniform, they knew where I was going that time of night.
The training was an experience I will never forget. I shadowed the experienced nurse's aides
who started teaching me how to turn patients, how to roll them over and give them bedpans. The worst was having to clean those who had soiled themselves with feces and urine. I thought I would die. I was nauseated by the sight, the smell and the wiping action. I thought I would throw up and the ladies kept assuring me that I would get used to it in no time. I did get used to it after a while and was even able to wash up and eat in between patient rounds. Weighing under 130 lbs, turning, lifting and moving patients was a challenge. The other aides taught me how to manage on my own but would still come to help me turn very big patients.
Welcome to America------ to be continued-------
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment