Calabar is not a tribe: a case of mistaken identity?

I am one of those Lagosians by birth. I was born and raised in Lagos, and so were my parents. So I’m a 2nd-generation Lagosian. The fact that I cannot speak my dialect - Ibibio irks me to no end. But I’m tired of blaming my parents for weaning me on the English language from an early age.  

Once I met an Ibibio man and he accused me of losing my identity because according to him, I wasn’t answering my native name. Again is it my fault that my parents gave me an English name? Is it also my fault that my last name sounds more Brazilian than Ibibio? Is it also my fault that I look more Ibo than Ibibio?

I’m painting a picture here. I’m sure you can see how I could be accused of losing my identity. 

• English name
• Brazilian sounding last name 
• Light Ibo- looking skin
• Can’t speak her native language - Ibibio
• Can’t remember the road to her village (what’s a village? I’m from Lagos...*kidding*)

Yeah so you get it now.

I argued that I had a middle (native) name which was included in every national and international document I owned. This didn’t seem enough for this man. He blamed me for the gradual extinction of our language. I almost cried. Someone just accused me of killing culture. I wasn’t a culture custodian. I was a culture murderess. 

Anyway, I don’t blame him. We are what’s wrong with the world.

Even we don’t know who or what we are.

I was making my hair the other day, only for my hairstylist to realize I was from Akwa ibom. 

His name was Tomorrow. The moment he told me this, I knew it had to be a translation. No one names their child Tomorrow. I also knew that Tomorrow was translated as Mkpong in Ibibio (Trust me it sounds better than it looks).

Why translate such a beautiful name to English? I asked him.

People can’t pronounce it, he argued. 

Hmm, you don’t see Yoruba people changing their names because people can’t pronounce it. 

Sigh. You see my point. 

Anyway, someone in the salon commented on my features and called me pretty.

Only for Tomorow (Mkpong) to say: Yes now, Calabar girls are always fine. Na my people be that.

I’m not Calabar. I corrected. I’m Ibibio. 

Ibibio?. A confused customer repeated. Where’s that? Where are you from? 

Akwa ibom.

You’re Calabar now. The customer argued.

Sigh. Again you see my point. 

It reminded me of a conversation I had with a guy who was chatting me up one time. Lemme replay real quick:

Me: I’m from akwa ibom.

Him: wait, lemme guess you guys speak, ikom? No, anang. No, efik.... or is it Ibo? You guys are Ibo right?

It took all my willpower to refrain from a snarky remark. 

So yeah, I may be a lost cause. I know enough of my native language to get by. But I’m determined that my children will be better than me. 

They will have native Ibibio names and visit the village (if I can find it) once a year. If they can learn French then they can learn Ibibio. I will not be responsible for killing culture. No no. Not me. 

There are over 520 languages spoken in Nigeria but over 50 have gone extinct. 

Calabar is not a tribe. There are more languages and tribes in Nigeria besides Ibo, Yoruba and Hausa. So it would be nice if we stopped trying to fit everyone into these nice little boxes called “the tribes I know”.

How are you killing your culture? Can you speak your native language? Can you write in your native language? Do you even know what your native language is? Do you know any songs in your native language?