‘Even before the dust and smoke of slave raids and the accompanying inter-tribal  wars had settled down, Nigeria, as well as the rest of tropical Africa, was agitated by happenings the repercussions of which are with us today.’    

         One of the repercussions of the abolition of slave trade implied by Nduka Otonti in the quote above was the race to acquire western education by the African elite following the impression that the technological base of indigenous education was weak and therefore could not keep pace with its western counterpart. Again, the indigenous brand of education did not brandish the liberal sophistication upon which the fecundity of western pedagogy was based. Perhaps the most basic reason for the search for western education was the inadequacy of tertiary schools in the colonized regions to cater for the intellectual thirst of the black elite.  So, immediately he was weaned in the secondary school system in Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Gold Coast (Ghana) or Nairobi an average black hopped in a ship and off he went to Britain or America searching for a degree in Law and allied professions. This class of Africans returned home and, in consonance with their training and political experience while abroad, the agitation for self-rule was set in motion. However, following the near collapse of the economic base and structure of most African nations, resulting in decaying social infrastructure, insecurity and robust directionlessness, the trend changed: not only do African youths and professionals want to leave the continent in search of a more clement environment, but unlike their progenitors, their inclination to return home and help rejuvenate the continent becomes justifiably dull.

              Deprived of the true picture of life abroad but daily assailed with the opulence and economic prosperity displayed by those who have traveled abroad and who are    home on a short visit, the average African who is still in the throes of obtaining a visa has his instinct sharpened to the dimension that ‘the streets of Europe and America are paved with dollars, pounds and euros.’

          It is the untold experience, the quotidian uncertainties of the legal immigrant (I hope somebody will tell the experience of the illegal immigrant one day) that Awoshakin has graphically painted in Lost and Found in America, so that the aspiring immigrant like myself can pick a copy of the novel and avail himself of the nature of racism, linguistic dichotomy indeed, the whole gamut of culture shock that awaits him in the land of the white man.

             Employing implied comparison, dialogue mixed with a sprinkle of proverbs, the author laid bare the stark realities of the pains and gains of migrating; the shattering of dreams, the actualization of ambitions, and the dynamism of the unknown which can only become a pulsating insistence in the life of an immigrant who ‘must not return home without achieving anything.’    

          The story of Lost and Found in America, a one-hundred and fifteen page novel divided into twenty-six chapters, revolves around Akobo the son of Akinde who won a green card lottery, a euphemism for official permission to permanently live and work in America. Akobo, a Nigerian, in the first two chapters is depicted as a man who is moderately successful because, ‘…he had a good job, a nice car, a new apartment and lots of friends.’ So what could such an individual, obviously comfortable in his country, be going to do in another man’s country? The answer lies in the protagonist’s earlier reflections on the gains derivable from his adventure: ‘He would get more education; he could send money to his parents; he could finally get married; his children will be American citizens; he would return one day and build a big house.’ The intrigue is: can’t this immigrant achieve these feats without traveling out of his country to face the unpalatable consequences of an immigrant? While pondering the poser, we realize that our protagonist has a dose of a revolutionary in his vein. Completing the list of his expectations is: ‘…and help strengthen democracy and good governance in his country.’                        The puzzle is moderately resolved: it is the pains of obtaining the basics of life compounded by bad governance wobbling democratic operations, and the most significant the exchange rates that drive people like Akobo into the waiting hands of the likes of Uncle Sam.

        Subsisting in an unfamiliar environment without a reliable guide is tantamount to a toddler learning walking without the helping hand of an adult or a contraption. This discomfort is resolved for Akobo by his friend Adio who is on student visa. And it is in the course of their search for an apartment that, a sharp distinction between the nature of policing Akobo is used to and an aspect of what to expect in Akobo’s new environment is unfolded.

         On his arrival in the US, Akobo put up with Adio in his one room apartment. Not long after, Adio’s younger brother also jetted in into the US making three gentlemen to share a room apartment; needless to affirm the going must be cumbersome. So the three Africans chose an afternoon to search for ‘ROOM FOR RENT sign’. A police car smothered them in a corner and ‘two armed men jumped out. They were cops.’ What followed was a study in police investigation: apparently a white man has been robbed and assaulted by three black men and since the three room-searching Africans fitted the description the robbed gave, the armed cops had very good reasons to conduct ‘a suspect line up.’ The victim cleared the three Africans and they were released to continue their search.

           Neat and clean, one is tempted to say but what would have happened if the incident were to have occurred in a place like Lagos where Akobo resided before journeying to the US? I am convinced that the three young men would have been arrested, taken to the police station and forced to part with some bribe which the police would have called bail. So, for the prospective African immigrant especially from Nigeria, the fear of certain indices of insecurity is milder but it may not be so mild, if the immigrant is guilty, even slightly, as Akobo’s experience was when he drove a car at speed 37 when he should be doing 35.

           After several months of his arrival in the US, Akobo was still to secure a job. He needed to get one fast, and since he was a graduate of a Nigerian university his search, he thought, should be limited to the classified sections of the newspapers. It was his friend, Adio who opened the lid on the can:

                    ‘You have to go out there and look for help wanted sign.’ He had admonished his friend. The advice to which Akobo naively responded: ‘Go out, but the agency said interested applicants should send a resume.’ Adio must have been amused at his friends level of ignorance for his response was: ‘ Ha! What resume?  Adio sneered. ‘Your experience in Africa does not really matter. You have to start afresh.’ Akobo did not need any further encouragement because the following day saw him paddling the streets of New Jersey looking for job. He was lucky. He got the job of a security guard with a security firm-- City Guards: The Trusted Security Firm-- on $7.50 an hour, 9 pm-9am daily. The lesson could not be clearer for the immigrant: your African certificate is worthless in America; so be prepared to subsist, at least for a while, on incommensurable employ.     

                    Although, he now had a job in the kitty, he could clothe himself, Akobo was still lacking the remaining of the basics of life- shelter. So it was at Irvington, in New Jersey that he was able to trap down a one bedroom apartment for $600 a month and a $100 security deposit. The leasing condition did not end there: The rent was due on the 3^rd of every month; lateness would attract a $5 charge for every day of lateness. Heat was ‘included in the rent’ but Akobo was to be responsible for electricity. He was advised to call a company that would ‘set-up your electricity cable and other utilities.’ Easy life compared to what the hapless immigrant Akobo was used to in the process of securing accommodation in any of the parts of the developing life of Africa. Such things as provision for ‘heat and cold signing papers and a company setting up electricity cable and other utilities’ are a luxury which may manifest maybe in the turn of another millennium. Only God knows where America and other developed countries of Europe will be then? Living in Mars, I suppose.

               For whom much is given very much should be expected. So in the course of formalizing the rent agreement, Awoshakin brought us to the reality of one of the indices of the reason for America being dubbed a developed nation—Social Security number. Hear him invoking the authorial comment device: Akobo soon  realized that without having the number, it was impossible to get a job, open an account, rent an apartment or do almost anything in America.’  One may not be able to literally visit the restroom in the US without the SSN! Immigrants like Akobo should find the practice so odd, since his country of origin, in spite of spending several billions of dollars on the project; common national identity card project is yet to see the light of the day. So any Tom Dick and Harry of shady character may lay claim to being a Nigerian to perpetrate any diabolical tendencies.