Remaining Nkechi: The Migration Story

The beginning

I was born in Delta State, one of Nigeria’s 36 states and an oil-rich region. Nigeria is of West African origin and Africa’s most populous country. Names like Ngozi Okonji-Iweala, Director-General, World Trade Organization (WTO) and renowned economist and the first African to serve as Director-General, Uzo Aduba from Orange Is the New Black, Nigerian-American making waves in Hollywood, Jidenna, Nigerian-American pop musician, Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, renowned Nigerian writer and Novelist might ring a bell and give you a clue to the awesomeness that is the extent of Nigerian talent in the diaspora.

My name is Nkechi! A name of the Igbo dialect loosely translated in English to mean: “What God has given or God’s gift.” Where I come from, every birth and naming has a story to it. I have never really asked about the narrative of mine. But if I went with the meaning of my name, I would say I came as a gift from the almighty.

I love my name. I recall confronting my Mum once to ask why I was the only one of five kids who never received an “English” name at birth. My siblings all have first and second names. One English and one traditional name. There must have been a sense of urgency to fill out my birth certificate.

Ancient folklore tells the tale of female children of Igbo origin from Nigeria, called Nkechi. They say it is a name given as a sign of gratitude to the almighty, even though a male child would have been most desirable by some. Don’t get me wrong, before the advent of ultrasounds and scans, our forefathers loved the element of surprise with birthing! However, expectations are usually built in anticipation for a male child, “an heir to the throne” (literally) the one who would carry the family name and continue the lineage to Timbuktu. If the first child was female, the anticipation outside of science and the world of chromosomes would be that the next should be the heir, to continue the family tradition. It is no wonder that the narrative of Nkechi, goes to the second consecutive female child (or mostly my own interpretation…)

Somewhere in the Middle

When I moved out to North America last summer from West Africa, it wasn’t for a vacation. In fact, what sort of vacation would it have been right in the middle of a global pandemic! Corona played a hard one on us and still is. I digress! This was not a vacation, it was a leaving, to cleave to a new home! The way it is referenced in the bible, that a man leaves his family to cleave to his wife.

I was cleaving to a new world, a society that would provide me a space to fuel my creative juices, a land of opportunities and I mean this figuratively, one that would provide me that global platform to kick ass (literally). One that was for free spirits!

My current reality signaled a do-over! Unlearning everything I had come to accept and love. My first reset came in the form of realizing my “Nigerian-ness.” First, from my name and then to the recognition that I had “an accent.” I have always been intrigued when I get the accent remark, especially since I have spoken mainly English all my life.

English is the official language of Nigeria and one transcended to us by Britain, Nigeria’s historical colonial fathers. My life as a post-graduate student in the United Kingdom somewhat prepared me for the “accent” reactions, but I do say having to learn the nuances of corporate conversations can sometimes make you wonder how even as a native English speaker, I would worry about how to pronounce the number “zero” or the word “theme.” Then, was the peculiarity with pronouncing my name. I must give credit where it is due though. One of the greatest gifts so far has been the genuineness of people I have met both personally and professionally, eager to learn the right pronunciation of my name.

The Reset

To break into the corporate world when I first arrived, meant a possibility of toning down my “Nigerian’ness,” starting with my name. But for one with an official traditional first name, this was a tall order. The goal was to minimize possible recruitment biases, especially as most of my well-earned work experience was “foreign.” Anything to make it slightly easier to break into the job market, like a repackaging! But that meant adopting a moniker or a “preferred” name. But what moniker would be most adequate for one with just a traditional first name?

I realized that to tone down my identity in the spirit of “properly” integrating into my new home would be to derive an entirely different meaning from the word in its traditional state. One that does not show gratitude, one that does not revere.

My name is N.K.E.C.H.I. Pronounced as – “In-ka-chí”

What’s your migration story? I would love to read about it in the comment section.