What Game of Thrones taught me about "Japa".

A couple weeks ago, I was rewatching GOT. The first time I watched the series, I was in undergrad. This time, almost 7 years later, I was watching with a different lens and maturity than the first time. 

I got to the scene where Arya and Sansa reunite. Shortly after the initial pleasantries, they are arguing and Sansa tells Arya “you never would have survived what I’ve survived”. 

Now, those of us watching know that both of them suffered greatly, albeit in different ways. 

Half their family was dead, their home had changed, they had become women who experienced the gruesome realities of life. And yet, the bone of contention when they reunited was about who had suffered more. No conversation, no debriefing, just the feeling that the other person had it “easier”.

As I watched them, I immediately thought that the scenario was a simulation of what happens to relationships as a result of japa. One person leaves another behind. Distance, time and life happens. And then one day, you realize that you no longer know the person on the other side intimately. Trials and tribulations of life abroad stare you in the face and you hide the stories because you assume that the people on the other side of the line cannot possibly understand your “suffering”. And this is true in some ways. 

Sometimes however, this bias we hold is readily confirmed. For example, the first time I shared that I was unhappy in the US, my friend scoffed at my audacity to complain. And the second time, my friend listened but did not understand me. At least not in the way I wanted to be understood. And so, I stopped sharing and we know that relationships are built on mutual sharing and caring. I don’t share, they don’t share, we don’t care, therefore the relationship is lost. 

I was thinking today about the number of times I have heard, “no matter how bad it is there, it cannot be as bad as it is in Nigeria”. This statement immediately makes me hold my tongue because to say otherwise feels pointless. To say that I cried today at the bus stop because I felt alone would be to complain about “my good life” and to some people, this is just unacceptable. 

And the longer I stay in the US, the more I realize the complications. 

When I was younger and I saw people say “I just reunited with my mother after 10 years”, I used to judge them because why would you go so long without seeing your family. Or why would you abandon that best friend of yours? But now? I get it. I see how 1 year can easily become 10. How at first, it’s the lack of funds, then it is the busyness then it is the fear. The fear that only a person on a visa knows, a fear that is compounded in light of the new rules that are ever changing. 

To make matters worse, the emotional and mental weight of these things are worsened by the concept of “black tax”. The idea that it is just “$20”, that you have a “duty” regardless of your situation. That I have to take care of you even though I have no idea how I will pay my next rent. 

Like the Stark girls, I have felt that many of the relationships I had from NG have become a you vs me. And sometimes, I wonder secretly, “if I return to Nigeria, would I still “know” anyone?”. I think about my role in all of this, the calls I should have made, the questions I should have asked and the ways I should have shown up. And tbh, it is easier to “move on”, to focus on the grind because if I’m lasered focus on the hustle, my eyes don’t have the time to collect water. 

Tbh, I could record a 2 hour podcast and I will still feel that I have not said it all. I wish I could share more openly without fear of judgement the two sides that exist here. That many of us love the life we are living but also struggle with the challenges of immigration and sometimes we wish you would step over the line and ask “do you have 8 minutes to talk?”

Breathe In. Hold for 3 secs

Breathe Out. Hold for 3 secs.