My name is Ike Nnaebue. I am a filmmaker and a cultural
entrepreneur from Lagos, Nigeria. I’m about to embark on a journey
to retrace my coming-of-age. To reflect on my own youth, I will meet West African
youth migrating today and try to understand
their challenges and hopes as well as the choices they make. The story I tell will be
like a switch of timelines. It seems like a lifetime ago. 26 years ago, I came to this
Mile 2 bus park in bustling Lagos along with my friends
Uche, Francis and Martins. Our plan was to cross West Africa
through Benin, Togo, Burkina Faso, Mali, Mauritania and Morocco. Our goal was to cross
the strip of Gibraltar and make our fortunes in Europe. Armed with an atlas,
a few hundred dollars, a backpack load of
dreams and enthusiasm, we left Lagos on what was going
to become a journey of our lives. I still remember how it
felt to leave the familiar, the excitement as we took
the plunge into the unknown. We also felt a bit
of apprehension. We felt a tinge of fear with
every passing village and town. But a young man has got to
do what a young man has to do. Once again, the unknown beckons. We were looking forward to
reaching the coast of Spain, to begin working in the farms. We were made to believe that there
is always a job waiting for anyone who was ready to work. I was ready to work. Interestingly, Cotonou was
a major port during slavery and in this modern times, this
coastal city is still a take off point for African youths trying
to migrate to Europe. Across the beer parlors
and 'Nkwobi' joints of Nigeria, you would often hear tales of
people who travel to Europe by road. “It’s just seven days from
Lagos to Europe ", they say. “You cross the Mediterranean
and arrive very quickly in Europe.” You get so many dubious testimonies
of the geography, logistics and timelines of this adventure. But nobody says anything
about the many days of waiting in taxi and bus parks. No schedules that work. Here time freezes. Waiting is a very huge
part of this journey. Well, waiting is a huge
part of life. So we wait. Once we left Nigeria, me and my
friends each had to choose a moniker and come up with a cover
story for where we were going. Of course, you can’t be
telling every gendarme and every stranger that meet that
you are going to Europe by road. So you cook up a story and
you create a new identity. Uche chose to be called Pretty
Chommy, Martins chose Bull, Francis, Nof, and
I was called Junior. In a way, this journey might be more about
identity crisis than any other thing. The search for self, perhaps. Music has always been
a very special part of me. Music has a special
place in Africa. Like food, music connects
people everywhere you go. That night, I left
on my first journey. I had no moon to guide my path, when I took to the road unknown. With eager feet and curious
mind, hope was my only compass. Untested, but with my
life, I had to trust completely. The unknown was calling my name. Like the sound of Ikoro,
the king of wooden drums. I heard the echoes
across many lands. Like the unclad
little feet of a child, chasing after Elo, the teasing bird, my Chi urged me on. For the unknown road is a pathway, leading to wherever
the Gods will for me. A new kind of ima mmanwu,
the great coming-of-age ritual, where young Igbo men follow
their elders under the moonlight into the village square, where the mysteries of
masquerades are finally revealed. For like in the ima mmanwu, the unknown road is a pathway
leading to wherever the Gods lead. On a lazy evening in my
home village, Ojoto, 1988. My mother, a young widow, and my younger brothers
are having ukwa for lunch. My mother then broached
the subject of me leaving school and taking up an apprenticeship. I was only 13! Having passed my primary school
leaving exam with flying colours, I was looking forward to continuing to
secondary school like all my friends. Our mother was struggling under the
pressure of looking after all of us. At that young age, life
put me at a crossroads. On one side my dreams of
education and a possible future realizing my potential
lay out there before me - but in our poverty it
would be full of turmoil. On the other hand,
my duty beckoned. As the eldest son, I had to make a personal
sacrifice to take care of my family. I had been raised to be an
obedient son, so naturally, I agreed to enter an apprenticeship
in trading on auto spare parts... For the first time, I looked my
mother in the eye, when our eyes met, my mother turned her face away and wiped her eyes with
the hem of her wrapper. When I went on this
route as a young man, it was rare to see a
woman traveling on her own. These days you hear about
women traveling on their own to work across the borders. What are the story of these
women crossing the borders throughout West Africa and how is
the trend of more women migrating shaping the societies they come
from and the communities they land in? Women confronted with
scarcity in their communities, make the tough
decision to cross borders. Their small earnings from menial
work, feed families back home, often lifting them out of poverty. These women travelling
through these perilous roads, keep hope as their
constant companion. That hope, like the moon, sometimes full in its abundance
and often waning to a mere nothing. When I was six years old returning
from my grandmother's house I contemplated the
moon for the first time She looked so
beautiful in the Twilight. It was one of those evenings
when the moon comes out early to dance with the sun. Wait a minute, I thought. Was
the moon following me. I wondered... I started running and the
Moon started running with me. Right there and then I knew
I had found a new friend. And as I grew older, hope became
an ever-constant companion, too, guiding me through
the path of life. Africa is such a vast continent, producing a lot of resources
extracted by the world. We have a lot to offer the world.
Gas, oil, metals. And also people. This fact gives me
a tragic kind of hope. But the present reality
makes me so sad - For most people on these roads,
Europe represents a life dream. A dream that is way beyond
just a geographical location. This is an existential dream. This is not really
about Europe, the place. It's about opportunity and
a chance to self-actualize, contributing to their society. What can we do to ensure that people
can dream in their own countries? Why is it unrealistic to
dream of a comfortable life in a continent of abundant resources? Hello Bamako. We meet again. The last time I saw you I
was a slender young man with no beard on my chin. I was a vessel on the move,
trying to take my impressions and in search of a
place in this world. I only spent one night with
you after two weeks on the road. One night, but you have
stayed with me ever since. When Uche, Martins,
Francis and I reached Bamako, we met an Igbo trader
who took an interest in us. He was able to see
through our cover stories for why we were on the road. He sat us down and
told us of his experiences and what he had seen
travelling through these borders. For the first time, we heard about
the human trafficking, robberies, slavery and other
forms of exploitation that we were risking
on our adventure. Uche and I started
having second thoughts. Martins and Francis
were of two minds, but Martins was more
determined to continue. The next morning, we
met another Nigerian, who on hearing our story and how we
were hesitating to continue to Europe, recommended we try
our luck in The Gambia, the only nearby
anglophone country. So, I ended up in The Gambia. The country that
taught me resilience, gave me the first taste of paid work and led me to a career in filmmaking. But, hey, Bamako, I love you. I will always be thankful
anytime I hear your name. For it was here that I switched
lifetimes. Here I made a life detour. Thank you, Bamako. Thank you. The Igbo apprenticeship system
commonly known as igba odibo, imu ahia or imu olu is a framework
of formal or informal agreement that facilitates growing
entrepreneurial communities within the Igbos. At the end of the
apprenticeship, the master settles the apprentice with
seed capital for his own business. I had finished my agreed
6 years apprenticeship and it was time
for me to be settled. But sadly, I fell
out with my master. My master’s business was
also struggling at this time and he could not “settle” me. This meant there was
no startup capital for me. My hope of starting my
own business was dashed. I was confused and in despair. Then a little hope
appeared on the horizon. People are travelling to Europe with
little money and no visa I was told. Just like the saying
goes, anywhere you go and you don't see
an Igboman, run. I feel a lot relaxed right now. Just like Chinenye, Bamako seems
like a very big blockade point for me. Here we go again, Bamako. Why is it
so difficult for me to get past you? Both times I travel this road,
I am interrupted in Bamako. The first time, it was from the
fear of danger that lay ahead. I had not known about
these perils, because in 1997, there was no social media So I made a detour. This time it is the pandemic.
Morocco has shut down its borders. Crossing to Mauritania
will lead to a dead end. Now I must wait. Because this time,
there shall be no U-turn. Images of dangers of the road through
the Sahara and North African countries on the front line to
Europe are shared widely on social media and in the news. The people I am meeting
on the road have reminded me of the hope that keeps
one on the road of life. I want to continue on this route
to understand this kind of hope, which transcends fear of danger. Finally in Morocco. It was
impossible to film in Mauritania. They would not let
us enter the country. So I had to bypass
Mauritania and fly to Morocco. Now I must begin make my
way all the way to Tangier, to the strait to Gibraltar, where
I was told I could see Spain across the narrowest
part of the sea. For me Morocco represents
an uncharted territory. For many years, I wondered what could have
been if I did not change my mind. I still can’t help but wonder what lay
on the other side of that decision. When you make that choice
to leave your world behind, you hope there is
something better out there. First you leave your country, but most
importantly, you leave your society, your culture, your way of life. Everywhere people go, they always try to recreate
home or at least something close. Something that reminds them
of what they have left behind. So interesting to find a huge West
African community here in Morocco. Shops that sell
poundo yam, egusi, uli. Nigerian food joints where the
debates are in pidgin English. People are migrating and building
lives in other African countries too. To migrants looking
for a place to dream, Africa does have
something to offer. His story is not so
different from mine. Like me, he changed his
mind and tried to find out how to build a life without
leaving the continent. Apparently, what is at stake
for every individual is different. But for many young people
who choose to stay in Africa, how is the continent ensuring
they can realize their dreams? For me, the next stop is Tangier, to
the shores of the Mediterranean sea. With many kilometers of
road and desert behind them, migrants at this
point of the journey have used every form
of capital to reach here. The way over the sea,
however, is not an easy one. It requires even more
sacrifice and determination. It’s the day after
the great feast of Eid. And like every religious ceremony,
it’s always a time for family. For the first time on this trip, I
miss my family in a very special way. This makes me wonder
how it must be for Laura, who has been away from her
mother for almost three years now. And for Sandra, who left
her 11 years old daughter back in Nigeria since 2019. And for all the migrants
who have left their families for such a long time
and have no idea when they can
reunite with them again. So many migrants in Morocco seem
to depend on street begging to survive while they wait for a
chance to make the crossing. For Laura, it better to
be a beggar in Morocco than to be a
hairstylist in Nigeria. She cannot go back to Nigeria, but she also has no intention
of staying a beggar in Morocco. For her, this is a transitional phase
that must end as quickly as possible. She must do whatever it takes
to reach her ultimate dream. A life in Europe. Laura and Sandra
represent a level of tenacity I may never really comprehend. For many people the idea of
returning unsuccessful is unthinkable. This shame of returning
without achieving your goal is a crucial part
of the identity crisis which grows out of
the dream of migration. In many ways, the
reason for migrating is that the countries of
our birth do not allow us enough opportunities to dream. So we cross to the next border hoping there will be
space for our dreams there. For me, the story
was slightly different. I found my way home after The Gambia
was able to make room for my dream. Having traveled on
this route again now and having listened to all
the stories of young people from all over West
Africa and Nigeria, I have to ponder whether Nigeria
has changed over the last 26 years. Does it make room for
the dreams of young people or is hope still mostly on
the other side of the border?
