Day 19: Travel and Experiences – Places You’ve Been That Changed You
I’m deeply grateful for the life my parents gave me. Their careers meant we were constantly on the move, and that came with the privilege of traveling across different parts of the country. Because of that, I saw and experienced Nigeria in a way many people never get to. I was 13 when I started traveling alone, and every journey since then has been a story, a lesson, a mirror, a teacher.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned from traveling, especially long road trips with random strangers — is never judge anyone by their appearance, accent, or behavior. You might be sitting next to someone who looks completely unassuming, only to find out they’re a high-ranking military officer or a respected leader trying to blend in.
I’ve seen it happen. You’ll be in a vehicle with someone who says very little, until you get to a checkpoint where a soldier/police tries to extort the driver for ₦500. Suddenly, the quiet man steps in with authority, and just like that, the entire tone of the situation changes. You realize this person has weight and influence. And in that moment, you’re reminded that appearances mean nothing.
My time in Kebbi, especially during what I often call my journey through the valley of the shadow of death, taught me three priceless virtues: faith, patience, and trust.
Sadly, in today’s Nigeria, we’ve lost so much of that. We no longer trust ourselves, let alone each other. We’re impatient with people, with systems, and even with our own growth. And worst of all, we’ve allowed religion to divide us so deeply that we no longer see each other as human beings first. We’re either Christians or Muslims, until something threatens all of us. Only then do we suddenly remember our shared humanity.
I remember vividly, sometime in November last year, I traveled from Abuja to Sokoto, then onward to Kebbi. I have this weird thing I do when traveling: I intentionally don’t speak Hausa at the parks or in the vehicles, even though I’m from the North. I dress in a way that gives no hint of my background.(Good thing is that I don't even look like a northerner) It’s like a social experiment, I always want to see how people treat someone they assume isn’t "one of them."
Predictably, I was treated like an outsider. The cold stares, the distant tone, I didn’t take it personally. I kept calm. Somewhere along Zaria–Funtua axis, we got to a military checkpoint. The soldiers weren’t in a good mood. Apparently, something had happened in that area earlier, so tensions were high. Our bus was filled with young Northern men, classic profile for suspicion especially when you're traveling through funtua-tsafe-gusau route.
The soldiers insisted on a full search. Our driver tried to “negotiate” with them, offering a little “something,” but they weren’t having it. Everyone in the bus began cursing under their breath, no one dared speak out loud, of course. (Dem no born them well! 😂💔)
At that point, I got out and calmly walked up to one of the soldiers. I introduced myself as a corp member serving in Kebbi State. I used military slang, joking that I had gone on a short "AWOL" to sort out something back home and needed to be back in Kebbi by morning or my LGI would have issues. He laughed and said, “Oboi, you get mind oh.” Then he waved us on.
The mood in the vehicle changed instantly. The same people who earlier gave me side-eyes and called me “yaro” (boy) were now calling me “OGA.” The energy shifted — respect had replaced suspicion. I was no longer a stranger. I was the guy who “saved” them at the checkpoint.
When we arrived in Sokoto, I turned to the driver and, in fluent Hausa, asked how to get to Kebbi.
The look on their faces was pure gold. That moment was for me, just to feel good. 😅🥱
Looking back, that entire experience taught me something profound: people are quick to divide, to exclude, to stereotype, until a moment of need brings us together. Then suddenly, we’re “one.” We chant unity only when it benefits us, but in ordinary times, we go right back to our corners.
If our togetherness only shows up when the journey is smooth, or when the danger is mutual, then we’re not truly united. We’re just co-travelers pretending to be a community. The illusion of "one Nigeria"
Real unity is shown in discomfort. Real character is revealed when you think no one’s watching.
Travel continues to be one of my greatest teachers. Not because of the places I’ve seen, but because of the people I’ve met, the identities I’ve observed, and the truths I’ve had to confront within myself.
All written and compelled by Phekwalayan Lemuel.
Check out our previous publishing for Day 1 - 19 Tab here.
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