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In exile, I missed
my mother and as I confronted the reality of life in America once it
dawned on me,I knew that it would be a long time before I would hear
her voice, not to talk of seeing her face again. The tyranny of
Nigeria’s telecommunication company’s ineptitude did not help matters.

Exile was a
physical and spiritual absence from home. When I first came to America,
I could not afford a telephone, there was a Nigerian in our apartment
complex that owned one ,he also owned a car. He charged us to make and
receive calls and also charged to give us a ride to the grocery store.
That was new to me, the concept of charging someone for doing them a
favor ,I couldn’t understand it, I am a bush man. I will live in
America for hundred years and not understand some of her customs.

My first telephone
was a baby blue affair that I leased from the telephone company. In
those days you couldn’t just buy a telephone, you have to lease it, my
family did not have a telephone in Nigeria too and so on some dark days
I would clutch the receiver wondering what it would be like to hear my
mother’s voice on the other end. It is a long way since the early
eighties, I have had an Internet account since 1993 and I joined the
first ever Nigerian list-serve ‘Naijanet’ in 1994. Dayo Ogunyemi, who
was then at MIT founded Naijanet in 1991. I still have goose bumps when
I remember some of the exciting and brainy things Nigerians did on
Naijanet and its dozen or so spinoffs, some of which became powerful
vehicles for pushing the agenda of the prodemocracy movement during the
Sani Abacha years of darkness. We now have the democracy years of open
looting and darkness but that is another story.

I am a digital
native. If it is not on the Internet you really have to pay me to go
get it. I have made some of the best friends on the Internet and
whenever I meet with someone in flesh for the first time, I am reminded
of the power of the spirit. It never fails; it is always as if we have
known each other for ever. Technology also makes it easier to be in and
out of relationships because people have more options and you have to
work harder to earn their attention. The world is suffering from an
attention deficit disorder because folks are suddenly finding out that
they don’t have to be with each other when they can simply reach out to
others with their fingers. I always half-joke that when I am driving
around with my children, the car is usually overloaded with their
friends coming in to the car via their cell phones’ monitors. They are
texting nonstop. They are on Facebook constantly. There are now 500
million people on Facebook – the equivalent of a subcontinent. It is
said that all Nigerians is on Facebook and from my perch, I think it is
only a slight exaggeration. I am amazed at how much Facebook and Skype
have empowered Nigerian women and children and offered them choices and
opportunities to express themselves in ways that they never could
imagine a few years ago. It is a good thing.

What the Internet
has done for Nigerian literature is phenomenal. I am enjoying myself
immensely. Traditional Nigerian publishing is virtually comatose, its
sole purpose being to trash the dreams and aspirations of talented and
gifted Nigerian writers. It just seems that all these “publishers” do
is staple together raw manuscripts without as much as editing a single
sentence. There are bright spots like Cassava Republic but I am almost
tempted to urge Nigerian writers to stop patronizing Nigerian
publishers. The products are mostly atrocious and unreadable. Do not
judge the writers until you have seen their true works on the Internet.
On the Internet, they shine. Many scholars wax eloquent about JP
Clark-Bekederemo’s classic 1960s poem, Ibadan: “Ibadan, running splash
of rust and gold – flung and scattered among seven hills like broken
china in the sun.” I have seen Facebook status pieces that would give
that great piece a good run for its money. Word for word, Nigerian
literature is being rescued from ineptitude thanks to technology and
the great efforts of some really passionate, visionary and hard working
Nigerians and friends of Nigerian literature. Collaboration among
Nigerian writers and artists is unprecedented thanks to technology. The
world seems to be one little globe sometimes.

Most evenings our daughter and her friend do their homework in our
kitchen. They chat about things teenagers talk about. Her friend’s head
stares at us from inside a laptop on the countertop, her voice filling
the house. Skype. I wish our daughter would ask our permission before
inviting friends over. At times like that, I almost miss when I did not
have to check laptops before changing into my pajamas.