LifeSightsSound

There’s something special about the place where your soul first learned to sing. For me, that place is Nigeria, a land where the mornings awaken with the rooster’s proud crow, ushering in a new day. It’s a sound that once seemed mundane but now feels like a call to return, a reminder of simpler times when life moved to the rhythm of nature and human connection.

I miss the chatter of children walking to school, their voices rising with excitement and mischief, filling the streets with a melody of innocence and possibility. Their laughter echoes the hope that lives in the hearts of Nigerians, no matter the challenges they face.

Do not get me started on the yellow and black Danfo buses with loud conductors blocking the road to pick up passengers and the loud honking that just says, “Welcome to Lagos.”

I miss the way neighbors genuinely say hello. Not a perfunctory nod or rushed wave, but a warm, heartfelt greeting that could easily evolve into a conversation about family, life, or just the weather. It’s in those simple interactions that I felt seen and rooted, like I belonged to something greater than myself.

In Nigeria, it truly takes a community to raise a child. I remember how aunties, uncles, neighbors, and even strangers would look out for you, offering wisdom, discipline, and love in equal measure. There was always someone ready to lend a hand, share a meal, or celebrate your wins as if they were their own.

And oh, the colors! I miss how people wear their vibrancy on their sleeves—literally. Bold, radiant patterns of Ankara and Aso Oke that tell stories of culture, heritage, and pride. Nigerians are not afraid to laugh out loud, to dance with abandon, or to turn an ordinary moment into a celebration. It’s as though joy is woven into the very fabric of the land.

Most of all, I miss the hope. The land itself feels alive with it, lush greens after the first rains, bustling markets filled with determined traders, and the resilience of a people who believe tomorrow will be better. There’s a spirit in Nigeria that refuses to be dimmed, no matter how tough things get.

Being away from my homeland has taught me how much it is a part of me. I carry Nigeria in my heart, the sounds, the colours, the laughter, the hope. It’s a bittersweet ache but also a reminder of where I come from and the strength that lies in my roots.

To my beloved Nigeria, I miss you. Someday, I’ll return to hear the cock crow at dawn and feel the embrace of a community that never truly lets go.