Can we try again?

Sixty-four

It took me nearly a week until it completely dawned on me what was happening. I was still in a daze. Still in shock. Still trying to process the whole situation. It was until I started filling out the endless reams of application forms. That's when I knew it was real.

Really real.

Unbelievable.

I was going abroad. 

This was truly happening.

When I first told my mum the news, she screamed so loud that Jameel ran to us and asked if we were okay. She picked me off the floor and spun me around. She planted kisses on my cheeks and my forehead, reminding me over and over again how much she's proud of me.

The excitement was real.

She danced around, threw her hands in the air, singing songs of praises.

Jesus, you've been so good to me . . .

"Oh my first lady," she held my hands, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm so happy for you. Chai!!! After everything you've been through eh, and now God has decided to smile on you. Oh, Samira!!! My beautiful girl! God, I thank you."

We might have shed some tears together. It was a moment in my life I wanted to be able to pause. The look on my mum's face said it all. It was one of pure joy, pride and satisfaction. I wanted to relish this moment. To record it even, so I could play over and over again whenever I was down and needed cheering up.

Well, at least one of my parents was ecstatic for me.

I wouldn't say my dad was over the moon when I told him the news. Maybe he was, but he definitely didn't show any form of excitement. I'd shown him the letter, explained everything to him, eagerly expecting him to throw his hands around me and congratulate me.

He was sat on the sofa, his glasses wedged on the bridge of his nose, his legs crossed on the table. He nodded slowly as his eyes scanned the words on the letter. I couldn't decipher the look on his face. I think it was a cross between surprise, disbelief and nonchalance. He was shocked, I could tell. It was kind of like I'd proven him wrong or something. There was a little twitch on the corner of his mouth. Possibly a smile - which he tried to hide.

"Hmm," he made a sound as he continued to read, nodding his head. When he finished, he handed the paper back to me.

"That's very good." He muttered. "Congratulations." His tone was dry, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Then he turned to face the TV.

'That's very good.' Seriously? That was all I got? No jump for joy. No scream of excitement. No hug. No 'I'm so proud of you my daughter.' Instead, a simple 'that's very good.'

I thanked him, only out of respect and walked away, anger bubbling in my insides. It was official. There was nothing I could do to appease my dad and make him happy. I knew that now.
If he couldn't be pleased for me with the news I've shared with him, I don't know what could.

Apart from my dad, everyone else was pleased for me and had shown it. My brother, my sister, Oma. A few family friends which my mum had told. So I decided not to let the issue with my dad weigh me down. I wouldn't be bothered by it at all. If he chooses to ignore me, ostracise me, that would be his problem. I'd be leaving soon anyway.

Oma cried when I told her. She held me so tight and sobbed. Telling me how she was proud of me, of how far I've come. Reminding me of past memories where I'd disclosed to her that I couldn't cope anymore and I wanted a fresh start. Then she went on to say how much she'd miss me, which made me burst into tears too. 

"I'll miss you like crazy Oma, but please let's not talk about that yet, okay? I'm not leaving just yet," I told her. "We still have some time to spend with each other."

It was surreal. Just the thought of leaving Nigeria. Having a new start. A fresh start. A clean slate; what I'd wanted ever since the breakup with Kenny. My prayers were answered.

I was even lucky enough to have three countries to choose from. Wherever I wanted to go.

Canada was my first choice. An easy choice for me. Not only because I'd been there before, but we had family members and friends who lived there that I thought it would be an extremely easy transition for me. With the support I'd get from them, I would be able to settle in quicker.

My choice was made. Or so I thought.

It turned out that the maximum limit for the applicants for Canada was full already. That was many people's first choice too. I guess it was done on a first-come-first-serve basis. 

It wasn't the end of the world anyway.

In the end, I settled down for the U.K. I had no one there. No family members. Just a couple of my secondary school mates who I wasn't very close to. But that wasn't going to be a problem for me. I'd survive nonetheless. Anywhere but Nigeria to have my new start.

And so it began.

Firstly, there were the trips to and from Lagos, trying to sort out an international passport for Jameel.

Although, this was just a sponsor for one person. There was no way I was going abroad and leaving him behind. I involved him in the application process too. He was coming with me no matter what.

I had to get him an international passport so we could begin the visa application process together. Some days I took him off school for some days so we can embark on these trips.
And the young man wasn't all too pleased with the decision.

"Mummy, why am I not going to school today?" He'd asked me. I didn't want to tell him what was going on, at least not yet, because I knew he would broadcast it to all his teachers and friends in schools and all the neighbours. I'd just explained to him that we had to get some important document and he had to be there because they had to take his photo.

He seemed content with my response. 

A couple of weeks passed and we got Jameel's passport - which took longer than I expected and longer than necessary. I then proceeded to send the application for the visas. I knew it wouldn't be as hectic and there wasn't going to be a problem of getting rejected because the company had my back - as long as everything was done that needed to be. 

The forms were sent. Everything was completed. All I could do was wait for them to process it and get back to me. I was not given a set date but told to expect a reply within 21 - 30 working days. 

And so, the countdown began for me.