Nigerians: Loud and Proud

Being of Nigerian heritage, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not actually my fault my voice is apparently ten times louder than the average 22 year old. I’ve inherited the vocal chords I’m sure Frank Bruno would be proud of and it’s all thanks to my dad Michael “the shouter” Akindele.

I love African people, they are my homeboys, but in all honesty, even I feel like I’ve been caught stealing the crown jewels or something when addressed by well-meaning Nigerians. The voice levels go up a notch when in the company of each other, and the enunciations of words are exaggerated with every facial feature it's possible to use in the space of a word. The diaphragm plays an important role in this type of exercise as you can imagine.

So I’m on the 250 bus, and the only seat available is between two African 50 something ladies, innocently talking about how their grandchildren are learning the alphabet, or baby panda’s or something quite sweet (yes, I have a modest understanding of the Yoruba language!) but the 100 decibel conversation sends the windows of the generously sized vehicle quivering in the frames and everyone on the lower deck running for cover unfortunately.           

And this phenomenon does not stop in public, o no! Many a nights when turning the corner into my Thornton Heath road trying to sneak back into my home after a alcohol induced night “just at Amy’s”, I have been greeted by the sound of my sister and dear father’s conversation, his signature mighty voice booming from the  constraints of our DOUBLE GLAZED windows 70 metres away as if he were competing with Pavarotti in an MC battle. My dad would win obviously…

But filled to the eyeballs with Gene’s special Strongbow and vodka Sombrero’s, my careful steps to the front door and laboured ring of the doorbell would be answered to a bellow of “Hello Gene, did you have fun?” that sends my on-coming hangover reverberating through my body thus ending the earlier pleasures of this carefully mixed drink.

I’m not guaranteed a quiet night, but It’s good to be home.