Can we try again?

Seventy-eight

Samira

The Christmas and New Year celebration was soon over. All the hype eventually died down. The holiday was over, the decorations were out, Christmas songs stopped playing in shops and on the radio. Kids were back to school. Adults were back to work, brooding over and complaining about how much money was spent over the holidays.

January is usually a long month. Long and dry. And now that I was here in England it was cold and dark too. As the first month of the year, there was so much to look forward to, yet so little happening. Everyone just lives by, seeking to get the sheer will and determination to stick to all the New Year's resolutions made. And some people desperately trying to recover from all the money spent for Christmas, clawing out of the hole of debt they've dug for themselves.

Work was going as good as it could go. I knew what I was doing now, which felt good. I'd gotten into the routine of things. I was a fast learner, always have been. Sometimes though, I did struggle. I struggled with getting some things done. It wasn't because I didn't know what I was doing, but I just found it difficult to communicate with or understand my fellow colleagues. It was a bit disconcerting when I said something to someone and they didn't understand or they'd have to clarify and vice versa.

And times like that I begin to compare being in England with my time in Nigeria. In Nigeria, at work, I was a big fish in a little pond. Majority of the people knew who I was and although I tried not to let it get into my head, it felt really good. I felt like an important person, known, loved and well respected by nearly all my colleagues.

Here in England, it was different. It was as if I'd morphed into a little fish in an ocean. There were very few people who knew who I was or even cared, to be honest.
I felt lost on most days. I put it down to the fact that I'd just started working there, but deep down I knew it was more than that. Things were different here. People would say something and I'd have to clarify because I was having problems understanding their accent or slangs.
I sometimes felt inferior to them. I don't know what it was, but it was as if their accent and skin colour, and 'Britishness' had somehow put them above me. Sometimes, it was the sublte way they acted towards me.

"Trust me, you're having the same problem everyone who migrate here for the first time has." Bernie said to me.

"I don't know how to stop feeling like that though." I admitted. "I just don't like it. It's knocking back my confidence."

Bernie put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry babes. It's a phase that'll pass. Once you've lived here long enough and begin to see that these white people ain't shit you'll then start to see them as humans like you and me. There's nothin' special about them, you know, just remember that. They're just . . . many shades lighter than you and I. I tell my kids that all the time. They're white chocolate, you're milk chocolate, some people, dark chocolate, all of which are chocolate." She came closer and then said. "And you can say, white chocolate isn't even real chocolate, huh?" She chuckled. "We. . .the milk and dark chocolates are the real deal, they're not. They ain't shit."

I laughed at her analogy. "White chocolate. Milk chocolate. Dark chocolate. I love it."

"Yeah. And always remember that whenever you start to feel inferior because of their light skin. They're no better than you because they're white, or because they're British, even though they might sometimes make you feel like that. It's what in here," she pointed her index finger to her temple, "that matters. And you gotta show them that."

She carried on. "And don't worry, with time you'll begin to understand the British humour and slangs."

Bernie was right. They're not better than me just because of the colour of their skin. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with my work. I souldn't really expect to be well known by everyone already just in the few months of me working there. It'd take a while. I just had to be patient, be myself and continue to do my work well.