By the time I moved back to commence a 10-week internship at the Miami Herald this past May, I had become a stranger in my own land. Somewhat of a tourist. It just wasn't the same feeling I had as a 16-year-old, leaving my native country Nigeria for the first time. Then I was eager to discover all the trappings of Miami Beach. But this time, I hardly left my apartment on weekends. Before I knew it, I was approaching four weeks left at the Miami Herald and hadn't experienced anything new. Staring out the huge window of the fifth floor ladies restroom in the newsroom, I could see my old apartment where life outside of Nigeria had begun. Still dressed in the same colors, everything about my first home in the U.S. was still the same, but everything around it had changed. My life in Miami was just the same. A lot about me was still the same, but seemingly everything around me had changed.
I decided to make the best of my last four weeks, and fortunately, had more than enough events in the city to occupy my time. My high school senior and friend Oyinkan came into town with some friends for the American Black Film Festival. We had dinner at Philippe Chow on Collins Avenue and met Robin Thicke--who I am a huge fan of--and his wife, actress Paula Patton, at Eden Lounge.
I met up with friends Tee and Idy the following week for a social night out in Fort Lauderdale, a city just north of Miami. I have to say these two really provided a good support system.
As I reflect on those last four weeks, my only regret is not taking advantage of all that my backyard had to offer. Still, I managed to make up some ground in my exploration of my adopted hometown. In reality, I doubt that I'd ever really call Miami home again. But I know that I'll continue to drop in occasionally to pay my respect to this southern city with the most diverse cultures in the U.S. It's been five years. Five years too long.
To be continued...
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