The future? I got it.
Sunday, 4 December 2022 By Kareem Abiodun Giwa
Kareem Abiodun Giwa
I arrived in Miami, Florida, on a Swiss-Air flight on September 24, 2002, for a seven-day business conference. I departed Miami on an Amtrak Train to New York on October 1, Nigeria's Independence Day. The link here is that Nigeria gained independence from Britain in 1960. I was running to be free from the political, economic, and social rots there. Leaving the country for a business in Miami marked the beginning of an effort to abandon a life without the expected outcome for me.
Getting off the Amtrak somewhere in New York City and stepping into a number 2 train for a ride to Flatbush, where my host was waiting, was momentous. My host, Godwin Ukueju, noticed my sapped lips and asked a question about the cause. I lacked an immediate answer because I did not know, at that moment, there were answers to dry lips. Godwin went across the street and returned with a lip balm. The weather was about getting cold. We drove from Flatbush train station to Canarsie, where I awaited a new struggle for the future.
"Can we stop at this Carwash to find out if they are hiring? I asked Godwin on our way back from Church worship the first Sunday after I arrived in the Big Apple. "What? You want to work in a Carwash?" Godwin queried. He said he felt I was too big to work in a Carwash. Godwin's opinion about me was the first challenge to crush for me to move forward. I was insignificant, anyway. Godwin's knowledge of me in Nigeria was about life in Nigeria. He needed to understand the change in my situation after he departed from Nigeria.
Later, I realized Godwin was serious that he felt I was too big to work in a Carwash. First, he told me I needed to return to Nigeria and visit for business from time to time since I carried a multiple business visa. He said America has changed since the September 11, 2001 terror attack. Secondly, Godwin wanted me to join the business of taxi operations. I told him I tried it in Nigeria, but it did not work for me.
My immediate response to get off Godwin's entrapment and get his cooperation was I needed to earn money as quickly as possible to send back home to my wife and children. In other words, I was broke. I needed money no matter the nature of the work I could get but not taxi operations. And that I was not here for a trial-and-error play.
Godwin left the house the following day on his taxi business. He later called me and said he spoke to a manager at a Carwash on Pennsylvania Avenue for me. "You can go there and make an application," he said. I quickly dressed up and went to the Carwash. Unfortunately, the manager needed more time to be ready to add a new employee. He promised to call.
I was not ready to wait. I left Pennsylvania Avenue and took a long trek to another Carwash at Church Avenue on Kings Highway, where I had sighted the Carwash while we were returning from the Church. An old but chubby guy in the vehicle repair shop in front of the Carwash ushered me before Bill, the Carwash owner.
"Can you do this work?" Bill asked. He sighted me up from my head to the feet. "Yes," I responded." "Alright, come back on Saturday when the Carwash will be busy for me to test you." I knew what Bill meant. I thanked him and left. I passed the test three days later after Bill watched me doing a run wiping cars coming out of the wash.
It was my first job in New York. No legal papers for me to work, but my business visa still needed to expire. $5.00 hourly pay and under the table without any deduction at all. The weekly pay was encouraging. The customers' tips shared every evening added an attraction.
I worked with Bill for about three months. I left after three months to avoid the uncouth attitude of some of the guys in Bill's Carwash. I spent two months in another Carwash on Utica Avenue. The manager wanted to make me a supervisor, but I rejected his offer. I wanted a job in which I would pay taxes and has benefits that would lead to a retirement package in the future.
It was the turn of events that I had a choice, having received legal papers to remain in the country. I got information for security training from a passing truck while I worked at the Carwash in Utica. The security training led to a job with Sotille Security for $6:00 per hour. It immediately struck me to plan to acquire the education that I lacked the opportunity in Nigeria as an indigent.
For two years, I remained on an hourly income of $6:00 while I worked for Sottile at various Duane Pharmacies all over New York City. Finally, a break came one Saturday when a couple arrived at a store on Avenue D and Nostrand Avenue, Brooklyn. I opened the door for the woman to enable her shopping cart through the door without hindrance. The husband watched and showed interest in me. He gave me a telephone number that connected me to Mulligan Security.
My hourly pay doubled at Mulligan Security. And for upward 13 years, I remained on the job at Goldman Sachs, where Mulligan had me as a security officer. Then, two years after joining Mulligan, I got a flat and went to college. I graduated from Mercy College as an honor student in 2012 with my wife, who joined me here in 2010, by my side.
The path to the future has begun. I had so much that I wanted to achieve, but I needed to prioritize. With my wife here, our children's immigration was well on the way. I wanted to ensure all plans for my children's migration went well. At the same time, I needed to avoid my registration at Hofstra University for a master's degree in Journalism was not abrupt. My mother's welfare was also in my mind.
I visited Nigeria in 2012 to see my mother and my children. My mother saw me and exclaimed an optimistic note about my height and stature. It was the most attractive word any man would hear a mother say about him. We talked about my past. She regretted my lack of education. But she became excited when she saw my graduation photos. She still could not believe I had overcome the pitfalls of poverty and had earned a life's education.
We shared secrets that would forever remain between the son and his mother. We hardly knew it would be our last meeting on earth. Six months later, I got word about my mother's death in 2013. I was happy I had seen her six months earlier. The pain of her death was it was my first year at Hofstra. I could not fathom college standing between me and attending my mother's funeral in Nigeria.
I still traveled to Nigeria for her burial eight months after the earlier visit. She was a sweet mother, and she deserved the attention. She loved and exhibited unrivaled strength for her children. Although, her death and travel for her burial affected my studies, manifestly rubbing on some of my class grades. She earned the sacrifice given what she gave, selflessly bringing her children up. I overcame the shock and graduated. Sure she would be glad in heaven of my future strides.
My children eventually began to arrive in the U.S. in 2016. I had moved from Brooklyn, New York, to a quiet neighborhood in East Rutherford, New Jersey, in readiness for their arrival migration. Younger ones arrived ahead of older ones. And four of the eight came in 2016. Two arrived two years later. So I had only my first son and one of his siblings left in Nigeria at the end of 2018. The movement was the crowning of all efforts of a struggle.
I was still working on schooling. I registered at Rutgers University, Newark, for Public Administration to pursue an additional body of knowledge. A study in Public Administration was necessary. Journalism was no longer so reliant, considering what the internet had caused the profession. I love journalism, but I would not be a tool politicians use to achieve their ends. I have no intention of holding anyone a prisoner, and I would not be anyone's captive. I needed an edge to be competitive and above manipulation.
I graduated from Rutgers in 2021 with an MPA degree. Born free and remain free. I have chosen to continue working outside journalism while seeking money to pursue the goal of a free journalism enterprise. It is the future, and I got it - A free Journalism enterprise without constraints of any political ideology. Public Administration will serve as a valuable tool to tackle politicians' game-playing. It will help to put the governments on a path of serving the community with public interest towards justifiable outcomes and improved humanity.
After twenty years in the U.S., I cannot forget days of running in frigid cold weather and wiping cars coming out of the wash. Security work is a lowly paid job and least respected. Yet, people do these works in a struggle to survive, a reminder of U.S. culture - "You got to do what you got to do." My father taught me hard work as a child. My late brother, a Journalist of note in Nigeria, in his 1979 American story, wrote to survive in America, you must work hard. Perseverance learned from my mother steadied me.
Working as a security officer enabled me to study. Now working as a Lead-Based Paint inspector - helping to save lives from exposure to Lead-Based Paint, my immediate family is nearly out of Nigeria, which marks a turning point worthy of celebration. American Society is complex, with different people and cultures mingling. Migrants learn to start a new life. Resultantly, people engage in all forms of work, no matter how menial. A good education enables the pursuit of a good income.
A good income is a path to a better future. It is considered an outstanding achievement to settle down, acquire a good education, and for one's immediate family to migrate, joining the struggle. Nigeria is always in my mind, but I don't feel the pull to return, but I plan to begin some investments there.
Getting off the Amtrak somewhere in New York City and stepping into a number 2 train for a ride to Flatbush, where my host was waiting, was momentous. My host, Godwin Ukueju, noticed my sapped lips and asked a question about the cause. I lacked an immediate answer because I did not know, at that moment, there were answers to dry lips. Godwin went across the street and returned with a lip balm. The weather was about getting cold. We drove from Flatbush train station to Canarsie, where I awaited a new struggle for the future.
"Can we stop at this Carwash to find out if they are hiring? I asked Godwin on our way back from Church worship the first Sunday after I arrived in the Big Apple. "What? You want to work in a Carwash?" Godwin queried. He said he felt I was too big to work in a Carwash. Godwin's opinion about me was the first challenge to crush for me to move forward. I was insignificant, anyway. Godwin's knowledge of me in Nigeria was about life in Nigeria. He needed to understand the change in my situation after he departed from Nigeria.
Later, I realized Godwin was serious that he felt I was too big to work in a Carwash. First, he told me I needed to return to Nigeria and visit for business from time to time since I carried a multiple business visa. He said America has changed since the September 11, 2001 terror attack. Secondly, Godwin wanted me to join the business of taxi operations. I told him I tried it in Nigeria, but it did not work for me.
My immediate response to get off Godwin's entrapment and get his cooperation was I needed to earn money as quickly as possible to send back home to my wife and children. In other words, I was broke. I needed money no matter the nature of the work I could get but not taxi operations. And that I was not here for a trial-and-error play.
Godwin left the house the following day on his taxi business. He later called me and said he spoke to a manager at a Carwash on Pennsylvania Avenue for me. "You can go there and make an application," he said. I quickly dressed up and went to the Carwash. Unfortunately, the manager needed more time to be ready to add a new employee. He promised to call.
I was not ready to wait. I left Pennsylvania Avenue and took a long trek to another Carwash at Church Avenue on Kings Highway, where I had sighted the Carwash while we were returning from the Church. An old but chubby guy in the vehicle repair shop in front of the Carwash ushered me before Bill, the Carwash owner.
"Can you do this work?" Bill asked. He sighted me up from my head to the feet. "Yes," I responded." "Alright, come back on Saturday when the Carwash will be busy for me to test you." I knew what Bill meant. I thanked him and left. I passed the test three days later after Bill watched me doing a run wiping cars coming out of the wash.
It was my first job in New York. No legal papers for me to work, but my business visa still needed to expire. $5.00 hourly pay and under the table without any deduction at all. The weekly pay was encouraging. The customers' tips shared every evening added an attraction.
I worked with Bill for about three months. I left after three months to avoid the uncouth attitude of some of the guys in Bill's Carwash. I spent two months in another Carwash on Utica Avenue. The manager wanted to make me a supervisor, but I rejected his offer. I wanted a job in which I would pay taxes and has benefits that would lead to a retirement package in the future.
It was the turn of events that I had a choice, having received legal papers to remain in the country. I got information for security training from a passing truck while I worked at the Carwash in Utica. The security training led to a job with Sotille Security for $6:00 per hour. It immediately struck me to plan to acquire the education that I lacked the opportunity in Nigeria as an indigent.
For two years, I remained on an hourly income of $6:00 while I worked for Sottile at various Duane Pharmacies all over New York City. Finally, a break came one Saturday when a couple arrived at a store on Avenue D and Nostrand Avenue, Brooklyn. I opened the door for the woman to enable her shopping cart through the door without hindrance. The husband watched and showed interest in me. He gave me a telephone number that connected me to Mulligan Security.
My hourly pay doubled at Mulligan Security. And for upward 13 years, I remained on the job at Goldman Sachs, where Mulligan had me as a security officer. Then, two years after joining Mulligan, I got a flat and went to college. I graduated from Mercy College as an honor student in 2012 with my wife, who joined me here in 2010, by my side.
The path to the future has begun. I had so much that I wanted to achieve, but I needed to prioritize. With my wife here, our children's immigration was well on the way. I wanted to ensure all plans for my children's migration went well. At the same time, I needed to avoid my registration at Hofstra University for a master's degree in Journalism was not abrupt. My mother's welfare was also in my mind.
I visited Nigeria in 2012 to see my mother and my children. My mother saw me and exclaimed an optimistic note about my height and stature. It was the most attractive word any man would hear a mother say about him. We talked about my past. She regretted my lack of education. But she became excited when she saw my graduation photos. She still could not believe I had overcome the pitfalls of poverty and had earned a life's education.
We shared secrets that would forever remain between the son and his mother. We hardly knew it would be our last meeting on earth. Six months later, I got word about my mother's death in 2013. I was happy I had seen her six months earlier. The pain of her death was it was my first year at Hofstra. I could not fathom college standing between me and attending my mother's funeral in Nigeria.
I still traveled to Nigeria for her burial eight months after the earlier visit. She was a sweet mother, and she deserved the attention. She loved and exhibited unrivaled strength for her children. Although, her death and travel for her burial affected my studies, manifestly rubbing on some of my class grades. She earned the sacrifice given what she gave, selflessly bringing her children up. I overcame the shock and graduated. Sure she would be glad in heaven of my future strides.
My children eventually began to arrive in the U.S. in 2016. I had moved from Brooklyn, New York, to a quiet neighborhood in East Rutherford, New Jersey, in readiness for their arrival migration. Younger ones arrived ahead of older ones. And four of the eight came in 2016. Two arrived two years later. So I had only my first son and one of his siblings left in Nigeria at the end of 2018. The movement was the crowning of all efforts of a struggle.
I was still working on schooling. I registered at Rutgers University, Newark, for Public Administration to pursue an additional body of knowledge. A study in Public Administration was necessary. Journalism was no longer so reliant, considering what the internet had caused the profession. I love journalism, but I would not be a tool politicians use to achieve their ends. I have no intention of holding anyone a prisoner, and I would not be anyone's captive. I needed an edge to be competitive and above manipulation.
I graduated from Rutgers in 2021 with an MPA degree. Born free and remain free. I have chosen to continue working outside journalism while seeking money to pursue the goal of a free journalism enterprise. It is the future, and I got it - A free Journalism enterprise without constraints of any political ideology. Public Administration will serve as a valuable tool to tackle politicians' game-playing. It will help to put the governments on a path of serving the community with public interest towards justifiable outcomes and improved humanity.
After twenty years in the U.S., I cannot forget days of running in frigid cold weather and wiping cars coming out of the wash. Security work is a lowly paid job and least respected. Yet, people do these works in a struggle to survive, a reminder of U.S. culture - "You got to do what you got to do." My father taught me hard work as a child. My late brother, a Journalist of note in Nigeria, in his 1979 American story, wrote to survive in America, you must work hard. Perseverance learned from my mother steadied me.
Working as a security officer enabled me to study. Now working as a Lead-Based Paint inspector - helping to save lives from exposure to Lead-Based Paint, my immediate family is nearly out of Nigeria, which marks a turning point worthy of celebration. American Society is complex, with different people and cultures mingling. Migrants learn to start a new life. Resultantly, people engage in all forms of work, no matter how menial. A good education enables the pursuit of a good income.
A good income is a path to a better future. It is considered an outstanding achievement to settle down, acquire a good education, and for one's immediate family to migrate, joining the struggle. Nigeria is always in my mind, but I don't feel the pull to return, but I plan to begin some investments there.
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