One of my good friends was in town a few days ago, so we decided to have lunch at a local breakfast restaurant close to his house. We had a fantastic time together.
Being Nigerians, it didn’t take long before our conversation moved from food to Nigeria, and from Nigeria to Nigerians, and from Nigerians to the question of why Nigerians do the things Nigerians do!
We eventually started reminiscing about the Nigeria we knew many years ago.
My friend, ZD, reminded me that after doing poorly in his West African Examinations Council (WAEC) examinations, he was advised to travel to the United States. At the time, he had little or no chance of gaining admission into any Nigerian university.
How times have changed!
Back then, we agreed, Nigerian universities were excellent. In fact, going abroad to study was often considered a second option—something you did when you couldn’t secure admission at home. Today, the reverse seems to be the case for many people. A child gets 97% in an examination and the first question is, “Which country are we sending him to?”
My friend eventually travelled to the United States, studied Pharmacy and, soon after graduation, returned to Nigeria and established a successful pharmacy business.
At some point, he looked at me and asked:
“When are you returning home?”
“I don’t know yet,” I replied.
“When will you know? Perhaps when you’re in your 70s or 80s?” he asked, smiling.
“As the Spirit leadeth,” I replied, equally sarcastically.
Then I turned the question around.
“Why did you return home? And, honestly, do you regret your decision?”
He looked straight into my eyes.
“JB, I was a young man when I made that decision. I was single and had just completed my Master’s degree. I also had about a year of post-qualification experience. I had the whole world ahead of me.
“But I noticed something that made me decide I didn’t want to remain in the United States permanently.
“I was close to a few older Nigerian couples. I watched their lives. Work. Home. Television. Sleep. Work. Occasional parties. Childcare. Driving. Work. Sleep. It seemed like a revolving door.
“I told myself, ‘I don’t want that kind of life.’”
“Really?” I asked. “That’s the main reason?”
“Not entirely,” he replied.
“There was this particular Nigerian family I spent a lot of time with. The man was already in his 60s. I watched him doing his household chores. He would do his laundry, wash his car, do the dishes, iron his clothes and take care of other things around the house.
“His children were fantastic and brilliant young men and women. But they were still living at home. They would walk past him while he was doing his chores and simply say, ‘Hey Dad!’
“And he would happily respond, ‘Hey son!’ or ‘Hey daughter!’
“It was the same whether he was washing his car, doing the dishes, ironing or doing laundry. His wife was busy with her own chores too.
“I looked at that and said to myself, ‘I don’t think I want to go through life like this.’
“I wanted to go through life supported in my daily activities by my spouse, children and other people around me, just like I would support them.
“So I returned home.
“And honestly, I have no regrets.
“I have plenty of paid support at work and at home. I can’t remember the last time I personally drove a car. And whenever my children are home, I have their intentional support as well.
“The Western lifestyle is perfectly fine for some people. And that’s okay. But it isn’t for me.”
I burst out laughing.
“You said it all, bro. Different strokes for different people. Here, we are present for our families and enjoy the basic things of life without too much stress.”
He smiled.
“No doubt. Such is life. I like your definition of living, but I prefer my own definition of living. I think we are both correct because, ultimately, we are all trying to answer the same question: What does a good life mean to me?
We both laughed.
But the conversation stayed with me.
It reminded me that there is no universal definition of success.
For some people, success is living abroad, earning in dollars, having a nice house, driving a good car, and giving their children opportunities they never had.
For others, success is living close to family, having people around them, enjoying community, receiving help with everyday life and being able to call on someone without booking an appointment three weeks in advance!
And neither person is necessarily wrong.
The important thing is to choose your life consciously.
Sometimes, we spend our lives pursuing things simply because society tells us they are important. We chase money because everyone is chasing money. We move abroad because everyone says “abroad is better.” We return home because everyone says “there is no placelike home.”
Meanwhile, very few people stop to ask:
“What kind of life do I actually want?”
My friend’s decision also taught me something else: the best decision for one person may be a terrible decision for another.
He looked at a particular lifestyle and knew it wasn’t for him. Someone else might look at exactly the same lifestyle and say, “This is heaven!”
And that is okay.
In fact, marriage teaches this lesson very quickly. One spouse says, “Let’s go out.”
The other says, “Let’s stay home.”
One says, “Let’s have children.”
The other says, “Let’s have a dog first.”
One says, “Let’s move abroad.”
The other says, “Nigeria is home.”
And suddenly, you discover that “different strokes for different people” is not merely a proverb—it may be the secret to surviving marriage!
But there is a deeper lesson.
We should not only ask where we want to live. We should ask how we want to live.
Where do we want our children to grow up?
What kind of relationship do we want with them?
How important is family to us?
Do we want independence or interdependence?
Do we want a busy life or a slower life?
Do we want to accumulate things or experiences?
And perhaps most importantly:
When we are 70, 80 or 90, what will make us look back and say, “I lived well”?
My friend answered those questions for himself many years ago. I am still answering mine.
And perhaps that is perfectly fine.
Because life isn’t an examination where everybody must arrive at the same answer.
Different people. Different priorities. Different journeys. Different definitions of success.
We both agreed that perhaps the real wisdom is not in convincing others that our definition of a good life is superior.
It is in knowing ourselves well enough to discover what matters to us—and having the courage to live accordingly.
Then we laughed again.
After all, we had spent almost two hours discussing the meaning of life over breakfast.
It was a deep conversation. It was very Nigerian too. And, thankfully, somebody else was paying for the coffee.
Such is life.
To each his own. Different strokes for different people. But whatever stroke you choose, make sure you are the one holding the paddle!
Johnson Babalola is a Canada based lawyer
jblawyer2021@gmail.com
@jbdlaw
@jbandthings
www.johnsonbabalola.com