The India we don’t want to see


Onyeka Nwelue points out what Nigerians in Nigeria won’t like about Nigerians in India

Urban Café is a club in Gurgoan. Gurgoan is very close to New Delhi, the capital of India. So, the DJs there all play Naija songs. They know the lines very well and can even sing them better than any Naija pikin. Here all Nigerians gather, almost every night. To dance. To wine. To scream. To show their Nigerianness. Both the legal and illegal immigrants. But who cares? Urban Café protects and respects everyone. You don’t even have to be screened or searched. Just go in and have fun. This is a different part of India most people have not seen. It is worth experiencing.

GB Road is very famous. You say that to an Indian and he raises his eyebrows: “GB Road? What you doing there?” “You wan go fucking prostitute?” “You wan doing jigijigi?” “Oh, don’t GB Road me now!”

Now that scares! But hell, GB Road is famous because a lot of people go there.

I’ve been there. Not to do what others do. I’m no saint, biko. But I went to actually feel the pulse of its busy nature. You know, after Kashmiri Gate, you start looking at the highrise houses where sex-workers are waiting. Waiting for the Next Big Black Thing from Africa. Not that Africans are the only ones that go to GB Road, they are considered to be BIG and DARING! What to do?

City Walk is a mall in the south of Delhi. One day, after sitting around like a lost child, I asked myself question: “What’s with black boys and fez caps and sunshades in the night here in Delhi?” I don’t know about other cities around the world; how they parade themselves in the evenings, but I feel in Delhi we have more Africans who love fez caps and sunshades in the night than anywhere else.

This is what they do: they dress up properly, in snickers (shinny ones) and baggy trousers, with expensive shirts and they always wear nice perfumes and then they head directly to KFC (Of course, you get to start hearing Igbo in that KFC because they are usually Igbo guys and sorry, I heard that KFC just got a branch in Nigeria recently, so they’ve been missing a lot) and they heavily order buckets of chicken, chicken, chicken, burger, chips and you must hear this: “Ketchup please!!!” What is that? They are in Yankee of course!

That is not all. They hang around City Walk while the lights shine and they will be seen with North East Indian girls that they call ‘Chinkos’. Oh my god, the Chinkos love African men and African men love the Chinkos because they are the ones who are readily available, the ones who can accommodate their craziness. So, they show their Bollywoodic love to the whole of India. Freely.

Pahar Ganj is a slum in Delhi. Yes, I lived here in 2006 for 3 months, writing my first book. You won’t believe it: Africans hate Pahar Ganj. They don’t get to live here. Europeans, South Americans and Middle Easterners have made Pahar Ganj their home. People peddle drugs here. If you saw a Nigerian on a street in Pahar Ganj, he didn’t live there. Why? Nigerians hate poverty and they don’t want to be associated with it. In Pahar Ganj, you could get a hotel room for Rs200 (N600). You see? So, Britons and Israelis prefer here and they are just comfortable staying here, where they don’t get to bathe or even brush their teeth, because you can’t imagine staying with someone for 2 weeks and she is still stuck in one dress!

Priya Cinema is where they arrest most Nigerians who engage in drug-peddling. Oh yes, last time I was in India, Nigerians had already started cultism there at Priya, using bottles to break some Indian heads. How do you see that? Interesting, huh? They say they belonged to different fraternities in Nigeria and now, it’s time for expansion. You know, the Indian Lodge of so so cult! Not only that. Nigerians have started kidnapping Indian kids in India too. It was in the papers, although I didn’t see. But I believed.

INA Market is an African market in south Delhi and yes, some Nigerian youths are beggars here. They are stranded and they know what to do. So you know what they do? When they see a brother, they rumple themselves into pidgin and start asking for money. Last time, I dressed to be seen as South African, but you know what I heard? No? Listen: “Nwanne, abeg help me with some money make I carry chop!”

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