My Minority Story

I'm tired of many things, tribalism has gotten the better of us, we turn stereotypes to comedy.

I'm Edo, the first comment I get when someone finds out is, you have strong juju somewhere, I go to Benin, many of you won't understand, but there is more than one ethnic group in Edo state, I'm actually esan. In Benin I'm immediately looked on with scorn an hatred by a Benin person once I say my name with the right inflections. The aura of negativity I'd get is immense.

Little wonder why an esan person is quick to identify as Benin, or is haste to leave Edo state for a better life.

In the search for a better life in a more conducive environment, which is the nature of man and animals, to do better in favourable conditions,  the esan person would take his certificate and personal items to another state, my dad chose Port Harcourt, Rivers state. 

Here you begin to struggle with the "indigene tag" where an ikwere or calabari person is more entitled to a position because he's an indigene, the son of the soil. A parcel of land is placed at a higher value to my father because he isn't an indigenous person. Slots are reserved in blue chip companies for indigenous people, children of the soil, as far as they meet the bare minimum, while my well ceriftified dad has to get into the rat race for a job or contract where the sons of the soil will pick Thier own first as far as they meet the bare minimum.

With grace we overcame, I'm proud say that I'm a Port Harcourt boy , cause things are better and I have my roots here, but I know I'll never win a political seat because I'm not a son of the soil.

Picture credit: timkay, Locke Sector.