The writers at The Nerds of Color discuss their favorite shows, shifts in the media landscape, and supporting inclusive entertainment.
September is race week in my little town Ireland.
For decades, people have been coming from all over the world to see some of the best horses (and jockeys) in Ireland come try their luck in North Kerry. Can I admit that I absolutely love my town during this week? Well I love it and I hate it just a teeny weeny bit.
The town heaves with the masses that week, lots of families pour in because of the amusement center set up and I must admit this is one of my favourite parts of the week besides seeing the horses. I spent Friday night walking around the amusement part with a friend who was determined to see me die on on of the rides. She did manage to get me on one of them but that won’t happen again. Nope. Not for me!
Ladies day is also a sight to behold. I loved seeing young teenage couples dressed out to the nines in both age appropriate and not so appropriate clothes. Young love eh? It’s my favourite day to go but I had to work so boo!
I did go to the races on Saturday
which is the last day of event. I backed a winner three times out of the eight races of the day (I only stayed for seven races tho). It’s my best record yet.
Night time is when it gets crazy during race week. The pubs are full to bursting and so are the sidewalks. The chippers are open till the wee hours of the morning catering to the ones who need greasy food to soak up all the alcohol drunk during the night time revelling. I don’t particularly enjoy the part of trying not to hit the drunks that stumble unto the road without a thought to their life or mine but that’s another rant i’m not ready to get into today. You should definitely try to attend one when you’re in Kerry.
A comforting creamy fall soup filled with spinach, artichoke, celery, mushrooms, onions, and carrots. This creamy spinach artichoke soup will be perfect for chilly autumn days. It’s fall! It’s fall!! It’s fall y’all! Fall is finally here! Ahhh! I’m soo excited. It’s officially fall now. As if you can’t tell, right? It’s time for pumpkin spice…
I have friends who like to go hiking but the very thought of it makes my bones ache and my lungs shrink back in terror.
About 5 years ago I went for a hike in Bray. My co-workers had been talking about it for months and how enjoyable it was. I decided to join in the 1.5 hour hike up the mountains from Bray to Greystones. I almost died. True story.
First of all we had to take the easier route because 2 mins into our very vertical hike up the mountain, I couldn’t breathe (asthma situation). How embarrassing! Then by the time we made it to Greystones, all I wanted was to curl up in a tank full of hot water and die slowly. That would have been heaven. Instead I had to sit through an hour of trying to eat chicken food at an organic vegetarian restaurant when all I wanted was a steak.
Lucky for me we took the train back to Dublin city instead of hiking and I never looked back again. I think there was an unspoken agreement between the organiser (fitness freak that he is) never to invite me ever again. We both remain very happy with the decision.
I’ve been feeling a bit down lately (read sorry for myself). One myth about living in a small town is that community feeling you’re supposed to experience living in a geographically small area where you’re bound to bump into the same people day in, day out. Wrong!
I’ve since discovered that living in a small town can be one of the loneliest experience ever. What do I mean?
Coming in as an outsider has it’s benefits. You’re not bogged down by historical social norms and can just be yourself. You can challenge the status quo and engage in discussions where you share your perspective gained from travelling the world. There is also the added bonus (or maybe not if you’re a bit of an introvert like me) of pretty much drawing attention wherever you go. Be it because of my Afrocentric hairstyles or my clothing, I tend to garner attention wherever i navigate in town.
Most people are friendly. A comment about your gele turns into an animated discussion about fashion around the world. A compliment about your braids may become an invite to coffee and a request to please please braid their own hair too. Because of these interactions, most people (read Le hubs) tend to think I know a lot of people and have a lot of friends. I thought so too in the early days only to find out that friendly as the small town residents may be, you are probably still considered an outsider. Great for small talk on the side walk or even in a coffee shop but not close enough to be invited home for the same cup of tea.
And here lies the cultural difference. Nigerians are by nature very friendly. We are friendly especially to foreigners and to each other especially in diaspora. To the average Nigerian, an invite to visit one at home even to a relative stranger or acquaintance is not unheard of. It is an invite to start a friendship. It means I think I like you, I’d like to get to know you more, pop by my house. To the average Irish, an invite to their home is reserved for family and real close friends. Although an introvert, I’m quite a social person. I enjoy having people over just chilling listening to music and having nibbles. I love nights in with friends as much as I enjoy going out to the cinema etc. Living in a big city means you tend to form relationships with friends with different interests. You know who to call to go out for drinks and who would drop everything for a night in with some vino and bad TV.
I’m finding that living in a small space that time may have forgotten can be limiting. It’s been a tough time adjusting my expectations of small town life here in arrghland. I’ll write more soon…