Three months after receiving my Canadian citizenship, I received two letters – one from Martin Sheilds MP, my representative in the House of Commons, and the second was a letter from the Oppsition leader of the UCP, Pierre Pollivre.
I knew it had something to do with my recently aquired citizenship, but I had no idea what to expect.
So I read.
The first thing I noticed and felt was that it was addressed to me on a personal level. The letter addressed me by first and middle name. The tone was soft, the words were wooing, welcoming and emotive, drawing a brilliant picture of the rich history of this country and what being Canadian means – freedom is my nationality.
In one of the most masterful penmanship I ever read, it went on to draw a distinct relationship between how my decision to immigrate, my arrival as a permanent resident and acquiring my citizenship was similar to what makes the country what it is today.
In all my years as a Nigerian citizen, she never, in written or spoken form, addressed me by name or even acknowledged my existence as a citizen. In fact, I don’t even think Nigeria knows I exist – except probably for taxation purposes.
It was a touching moment. Here I was, a new citizen still being courted and wooed to patriotism by my new nationality. For the first time as a citizen of any country, I felt seen, seduced to an idea of the opportunities that lay ahead in this new land that I now call home, and the fervent enthusiasm to contribute my quota.
Obviously, I’m not getting carried away, but I can’t help it if I am. Having lived here for 4 years, I know life is not a walk in the park or as easy and painless as advertised, but it’s the next best thing compared to where I come from.
Suddenly, I understand those war speeches that can motivate ordinary men and women to do the extraordinary. The speaker is rarely ever saintly or without an agenda or bias, and sometimes it could just be a show: but if sincere enough, it yields the right results.
In all this, I am glad but sad. I would never be here if I had experienced this virgin wave of emotions that I can barely put in words: a sense of ownership, a sense of pride, a sense of belonging in a project of this magnitude, a sense of acknowledgment by the state. All I have ever known is citizenship by default, which may be likened to the heartbreak of unrequited love.
I only pray that Nigeria will one day rise to some semblance of governance that will improve the lives of her citizens and show a new sense of worth and meaning that values every life within its territorial borders.
Until then, I may be gone…in fact, I AM gone.
Malcolm's Blog 