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Things I used to could do without a phone. #BlackenAsiaWithLove

A Spoken Word poem for young people everywhere, esp Youth in Asia, who may never know WE LIVED before smartphones…and live to tell about it.

Walk.

Walk down the street.

Find my way.

Go someplace.

Go someplace I had previously been.

Go someplace I had previously not been.

Meet.

Meet friends.

Meet friends at a specific time and place.

Meet new people.

Meet new people without suspicion.

Strike up a conversation with a stranger.

Make myself known to a previously unknown person.

Now, everything and everyone unknown is literally described as ‘weird’.

Eat.

Eat in a restaurant by myself.

Pay attention to the waiter.

Wait for my order to arrive.

Sit.

Sit alone.

Sit with others.

Listen.

Listen to the sound of silence.

Listen to music.

Listen to a whole album.

Listen to the cityscape.

Overhear others’ conversations in public.

Watch kids play.

Shop.

Drive.

Share.

Share pictures.

Take pictures.

Develop pictures.

Frame pictures.

See the same picture in the same spot.

Read.

Read a book.

Read a long article.

Read liner notes.

Pee.

I used to be able to stand at a urinal and focus on what I was doing,

Not feeling bored,

Not feeling the need to respond to anything that urgently.

Nothing could be so urgent that I could not, as the Brits say, ‘take a wee’.

Wait.

Wait at a traffic light.

Wait for a friend at a pre-determined place and time.

Wait for my turn.

Wait for a meal I ordered to arrive.

Wait in an office for my appointment.

Wait in line.

Wait for anything!

I used to appreciate the downtime of waiting.

Now waiting fuels FOMO.

I used to enjoy people watching…

Now I just watch people on their phones.

It’s genuine anxiety.

Walk.

Walk from point A to B.

I used to could walk between two known points without having to mark the moment with a post.

Now I can’t walk down the hall,

Or through the house or even to the toilet without checking my phone.

I avoid eye contact with strangers.

Anyone I don’t already know is strange.

I used to could muscle through this awkwardness.

Talk.

Have a conversation.

A friend and I recently lamented about how you used to could have a conversation and

Even figure out a specific thing that you couldn’t immediately recall…

Just by talking.

I also appreciate the examples we discussed.

Say you wanted to mention a world leader but couldn’t immediately remember their name. What would you do before?

Rattle off the few facts you could recall and in so doing you’d jog your memory.

Who was the 43rd US president?

If you didn’t immediately recall his name,

You might have recalled that the current one is often called “45” since

Many folks avoid calling his name.

You know Obama was before him, therefore he must’ve been number “44.”

You know Obama inherited a crap economy and several unjust wars,

Including the cultural war against Islam. And

That this was even one of the coded racial slurs used against him: “A Muslim.”

Putting these facts together,

You’d quickly arrive at Dubya! And

His whole warmongering cabinet. And

Condi Rice. And

General Powell’s botched PowerPoint presentation at the UN. And

Big dick Cheney, Halliburton and that fool shooting his friend while hunting.

That whole process might have taken a full minute,

But so would pulling up 43’s name on the Google.

This way, however, you haven’t lost the flow of conversation nor the productive energy produced between two people when they talk.

(It’s called ‘limbic resonance’, BTW).

Yeah, I used to be able to recall things…

Many more things about the world without my mobile phone.

Wonder.

Allow my mind to wander.

Entertain myself with my own thoughts.

Think.

Think new things.

Think differently just by thinking through a topic.

I used to know things.

Know answers that weren’t presented to me as search results.

I used to trust my own knowledge.

I used to be able to be present, enjoying my own company,

Appreciating the wisdom that comes with the mental downtime.

Never the fear of missing out,

Allowing myself time to reflect.

It is in reflection that wisdom is born.

Now, most of us just spend our time simply doing:

Surfing, scrolling, liking, dissing, posting, sharing and the like.

Even on a wondrous occasion, many of us would rather be on our phones.

Not just sharing the wonderful occasion –

Watching an insanely beautiful landscape through our tiny screens,

Phubbing the people we’re actually with,

Reducing a wondrous experience to a well-crafted selfie

But just making sure we’re not missing out on something rather mundane happening back home.

I used to could be in the world.

Now, I’m just in cyberspace.

I used to be wiser.

Life in the UK: Nigerians migrating from the other side

Damilola is a 2017 graduate having read BA Criminology with Sociology. Her blog entry reflects on the way in which personal experience can inform and be informed by research. Her dissertation is entitled Life in the UK: The individual narratives of Nigerians living in the United Kingdom and the different problems they faced during their integration into the UK

 

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During my research on the topic of migration and integration, it was important to me, to make the individuals the focal point. This is because the majority of research in this area, depicts a holistic perspective. Therefore, understanding each individual story was vital during my research. It enabled an insight into the different coping mechanisms the Nigerian migrants used, to compensate for the sense of othering they often felt.

One of the most eye opening stories was that of a woman who had bleached her skin to become lighter. She felt this would encourage others to accept her and also, make her more appealing to prospective employers in the UK. Nigerian women bleaching their skin is not a new phenomena. According to the World Health Organisation, Nigerian women are the largest consumers of bleaching creams. This was a very important aspect because it highlighted that, Nigerian women both home and abroad often feel inferior because of the colour of their skin. These bleaching creams can cause serious damages to the skin, however these women and others alike are still willing to compromise their health because, they believe it will increase their likelihood of success.

Here is a blog post that goes into further details about the side effects of bleaching:

When migration is spoken about, it is almost always portrayed as an ‘issue’, something negative that needs to be dealt with. This is particularly evident with the campaigns during BREXIT of 2016. A lot of times, this encourages a negative stigma of migrants, both internationally and those from neighbouring European countries. This is not only damaging to the potential relationship between countries, it also creates a divide, a sense of ‘us against them’. Amidst of it all, are the most sensitive victims, the children of these migrants. A Participant during my research mentioned her children learning slangs such as “init” to fit in with the other kids at school. She also made mention of shortening the names of her children to accommodate the English tongue of their peers and teachers. For her the mental wellbeing of her children was more important, than a proper vocabulary or the right pronunciation of their names.

Moreover this also leads to another misconception about migrants. The common viewpoint proposed by earlier research is that the lack of understanding of the English language is the barrier that most migrants face. However the results from my research propose a different argument. I found that, it was the foreign African accent that most participants felt others had an issue with. For most participants their accent was the most difficult thing to loose. This often proved to be a problem. This is because it made them stand out and, was a universal stamp that highlighted “I AM NOT FROM HERE” in a country that encourages everyone to blend in.

Once again, this illustrates the real issue with migration, for many migrants the sense of belonging is never present. As a participant pointed out “even after getting my British passport, I am still not like them. I will always be Nigerian, I know that now”.

In relation to the interviewing of the participants, this proved to be the most difficult part of my research. This is because the women often drifted away from questions being asked and told tales of people who had similar experiences to them. Nonetheless it was also the most rewarding experience because these different tales were embedded with deeper meanings. The meanings that would later encourage a better understanding, of the way the women coped with integrating into a new country. Moreover, as a migrant myself it was interesting to see the changes that had occurred over time and, also a lot of what has remained the same. This is because despite coming to the country at a young age, I was able to relate to some of the coping mechanisms, such as the shortening of my name to accommodate the English tongue.

As a recent criminology graduate, my dissertation on migration and integration was one of the most eyeopening experiences of my life. I have learnt so much through this process, not only about the topic but also about myself. I am grateful for this experience because it has prepared me for what to expect for my postgraduate degree. A friendly advice from me, to anyone writing their dissertation would be to START EARLY!! It may seem impossible to start with but it will all be worth it in the end.

GOOD LUCK !!

 

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