Look ma. I'm in the Diaspora now!

I have been away from Nigeria for 30years. Now before you automatically file me away as a geriatric ( I no get pipe, rocking chair or slippers oh). Hmm except the slippers wey the children give me for XMAS. Wait a minute, are they trying to tell me something? Me. Emi omo olowonla ti shilekun fole? (Me the son of a rich man that opens his doors for robbers?) Wait till they get back from school. Bear in mind I left at a very young age. In all these thirty years I have been convinced that I was living abroad and, at a push, overseas.

It now turns out however that I have actually been living in the diaspora. This sounds like a very lovely place, with fauna and flora, nubile virgins, blue skies and a certain je ne c'est quois. The sort of place where you can tiptoe through the tulips stopping every so often to smell rose, her friends chantel, angel, tiffany and any other delicacies that take your fancy. So why the hell have I not been invited? All this time I have been "abroad" studying and working my ass off, sitting in dull offices, with dull people, doing dull things to pay off dull bills when I could have been in the diaspora with nubile virgins with understanding ways. I am so mad.

Diaspora. What a lovely word. I can just picture myself in Paris whispering it into the ear of an innocent victim "would mademoiselle like to come back with me to the diaspora?". Bet she wouldn't say no. Now, let me be clear on this. I am well educated. My parents have ensured that I attended the best schools and got the best education. I have two degrees, I have edited magazines, I have worked in the newsroom of my local NBC station as an intern. So why in the hell have I never come across this word. Soliloquy. Yes. Ergo. Yes. Ipso facto. Yes. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Yes. Diaspora. Hell no. It has just passed me by. Other people have been enjoying it at their dinner parties whilst I have been "abroad".

Public service Announcement - I would hereby like to thank the Nigerian Govt. of OBJ for bringing it to my attention that my sorry ass has been abroad for 30 years when I could have been in the diaspora. If they achieve nothing else before the end of their term, I will forever hold them to my bosom for enlightening me. Taking me out of the darkness of life abroad and into the shiny bright Hollywood lights of the Diaspora. (ps - no I am not going to repatriate (another lovely word) any money home to help fill in the huge cracks left by the lack of social services. I beg leave me alone to enjoy my diaspora).

So that's one thing off my mind (hey you. where you dey go? I never finish. Tory just begin). Over the past nine months my company has very kindly sent me to Nigeria every month to do various business things which I will not bore you with. This is the most sustained amount of visits to Nigeria I have made since I originally left. It has been wonderful, exciting, eye opening, stressful etc. All the emotions that you would equate to being in Naija. It has also meant spending a lot of time with my people (Naijas). However story don get K leg oh. I don't know what it is but all of sudden I have rediscovered my long lost and buried "H"s.

As a Yoruba boy with my conk English accent I thought that the "H" was lost and gone forever but hmm it has begun to pop out of my mouth with alarming regularity oh. Picture this. We are about to go into a meeting in our HQ. There is a group of us and as we are entering the room when your boy utters the following three words. "Hon the light" Time stood still. As did my co-workers. Some of them were looking at me as if I was wearing wrapper , carrying spear and using chewing stick to brush teeth( I wasn't. I save that sort of thing for Fridays - dress down day).

Since then oh I have been firing my bullets in all directions. "Fry me some heggs" etc. On XMAS day, with video camera running (evidence for Iyawo to bring up in court. "So madam, when you cite unreasonable behaviour is the reason for the divorce, whatever do you mean?") I uttered the following "Hopen your presents". The children then start to look at me say as if I siddon there naked and they can see my roots for the first time thinking (this yeye man who has been pretending to be sophisticated, meanwhile he is just a conk Yoruba man. Ode! )

God help me. You learn something new only to rediscover something old.