Village People (noun | Nigerian slang)
/ˈvɪl.ɪdʒ ˌpiː.pəl/
The imaginary or metaphorical group of people, spirits, or “monitors” believed to be secretly watching and causing misfortunes, setbacks, or inconvenient surprises in one’s life. Often referenced humorously in Nigerian storytelling to explain why things go wrong at the worst possible moment.
Dear Journal, I Japa’d……
I’m sure many immigrants can relate to that waiting period between when you submit your application and when you finally hear back from immigration authorities.
Pure hell.
It feels like nothing else in your life is moving forward, like everything feels frozen because you’re waiting for one response that will determine the direction of your life.
That was exactly how it felt for me.
I was frustrated. I was anxious. I prayed a lot and joined almost all the online morning prayers I knew of…..NLP o, NSSPD o……you name it! I did everything I could think of while waiting for that response.
And then one day, it finally came.
My application got approved, I submitted my passport and it was returned to me with my visa stamped inside.
I was overjoyed, it felt like I had just won a long battle against my village people because yes, the delay I experienced must have been their ‘handwork’, lol. I mean, anyone who has gone through that process will understand the feeling.
The wait was over and my new life was about to begin.
So naturally, I started preparing.
Shopping. Packing. Saying goodbye to friends and family. Doing all the things people do when they’re about to Japa and of course before I knew it, the day of my trip had arrived.
My flight to Canada was with Lufthansa airways, and my travel route looked like this:
Abuja → Frankfurt
Frankfurt → Montreal
Montreal → Vancouver
Everything started off smoothly.
My friends dropped me at the airport, again I was so excited, hopeful, and honestly just ready for the new life waiting for me on the other side of that journey.
Security checks in Abuja went fine. No issues. No delays. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Everything was going exactly as planned.
Until I got to Frankfurt.
When I landed in Frankfurt, I followed the usual routine for connecting flights.
You know how it is, you follow the crowd, pass through the checkpoints, go through security again, and then find your next boarding gate.
I was doing exactly that.
At the security checkpoint, I placed my hand luggage & backpack on the conveyor belt and walked through body check.
On getting to the other side, I was waiting calmly for my bag to come through.
Then I noticed something.
From afar, I could see that my hand luggage had been pulled aside.
My heart immediately dropped.
Why are they pulling my box aside?
The security officer monitoring the X-ray scanner had flagged my bag and called over a few other officers. They were speaking to each other in a language I didn’t understand, and I was just standing there trying to figure out what was happening.
Eventually, one of them asked me if the box was mine.
I said yes.
The next thing they asked for was my international passport.
At this point, I was already confused.
Then they told me they had found a contraband item in my bag and asked me to open it.
Contraband?
I was genuinely shocked.
First of all, my bag was locked with padlocks. I knew no one could have slipped anything into it during the journey.
So I was completely confused.
Still, I took out my keys from my backpack and opened the luggage for them.
They started going through the bag, digging around and checking everything.
Then finally, they pulled something out.
A pair of scissors.
And honestly?
When I saw it, I actually let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Oh! It’s just scissors.”
But apparently, it was not just scissors.
They took the scissors and placed it on a measuring device right there.
Then they looked at me and said it was not allowed.
I said, “Oh, okay. No problem. You can just take it.”
But that was when things got more serious.
They explained that because of the length/weight of the metal blade, it was considered a felony-level item to have on a flight in Germany.
Felony ke?
At that moment I was like, wait… what?
It’s just scissors. Take it and let’s all move on with our lives.
But no.
That was not how it worked.
They told me I would need to come with them to the police station.
Ha! Police station bawo?
Before I could even process what was happening, they had already collected my passport, my boarding pass and started escorting me to the police station.
At this point, my heart started racing.
Police station? For scissors?
The worst part?
I had no WiFi connection, so I couldn’t even message anyone to tell them what was happening.
I just disappeared into a German police station because of scissors.
When we got there, they started asking me a lot of questions.
Where was I coming from?
Where was I going?
Why was I traveling?
After answering everything, they told me to sit and wait behind the counter.
So there I was.
Sitting in a police station in Frankfurt airport.
Terrified.
All because of scissors.
While sitting there, I noticed a man beside me holding a Nigerian passport and a few other documents. From the way he was dressed, I assumed he might be a diplomat.
So I greeted him and explained my situation.
I told him they found scissors in my bag and said it was a felony.
He listened and then calmly told me not to worry.
He asked how long I had before my connecting flight.
Luckily, I had about five hours.
He told me to relax and cooperate with them and that it probably wasn’t as serious as it sounded.
Hearing that honestly helped me calm down a little.
After some time, the officer returned and told me that I had the option of contacting the Nigerian Embassy in Germany if I wanted to inform them that I had been detained at the station.
That statement made me even more nervous.
Detained?
All of this because of scissors?
My mind immediately started racing. I began asking him questions one after the other.
Was I going to be arrested?
What exactly was happening?
Why was this such a big issue?
I kept trying to explain myself, my voice shaking and my eyes already beginning to fill with tears.
“It was just a mistake,” I kept saying. “I didn’t know the scissors was in my bag.”
I was practically babbling at that point, trying to make them understand that I hadn’t done anything intentionally.
The officer then tried to calm me down and explained that he only mentioned the embassy because it was my right to inform them that I was at the station. If I wanted to contact them, I could…..but it wasn’t compulsory.
So I told him that if it wasn’t necessary, then I didn’t think I needed to contact them.
He simply nodded and left again.
At that point, I wasn’t sure whether he didn’t fully understand all my questions or whether he was deliberately avoiding answering them. Either way, I was left sitting there, confused and scared, with no real idea of what was going to happen next.
After some more time passed, the officer returned again.
He told me that they had logged the item in their system and handed me a paper with details of the case and contact information to follow up.
Then he said the most beautiful words I had heard all day:
“You can go.”
They returned my passport and boarding pass.
But just before I left, they told me that I would need to go through the security checkpoint again, and warned that if they found anything else in my bag, I would actually be arrested.
At that point, I opened my bags right there in the station and checked everything again.
Everything seemed fine.
So I went back to the checkpoint.
And Then… It Happened Again
I placed my backpack and hand luggage on the conveyor belt and walked through.
This time, my hand luggage passed.
But my backpack was pulled aside.
At that exact moment, I wanted the ground to swallow me.
The officer asked me to open the backpack.
They searched through it.
Then they pulled out…
Tomato paste.
And toothpaste.
And a few other liquid items that weren’t allowed.
At that point, I didn’t even argue.
I just looked at the officer and begged…..
“Please… just throw it away.”
Thankfully, she agreed.
She removed the items, closed my bag, and handed it back to me.
When I finally walked away from that checkpoint, I wasn’t even thinking about my boarding gate anymore.
I had only one mission.
Find the nearest restroom.
Because the kind of fear that had entered my body during that whole ordeal?
Let’s just say my stomach had been holding a very serious emergency meeting and the moment I found the restroom, I released the most stressful airport dump of my life.
After that, the rest of the journey went smoothly.
I eventually made it to Vancouver.
People often say that once you leave your village, you’ve escaped your village people.
But let me tell you something.
Sometimes it takes a little extra prayer to fully escape them.
Because the way Frankfurt airport tried to test my destiny that day…
Hmm.
Anyway, that was the chaotic beginning of my japa journey.
And officially the first entry in The Japa Journal.
If you’ve ever had a wild travel experience while relocating abroad, I’d love to hear your story too.
You can share it in the comments or send it to me directly.
Who knows?
Your story might become the next entry in The Japa Journal.
With love,
Beks 💜
#TJJ
The Japa Journal 