Once I sat with a friend from Hungary over lunch. We got talking about places and cities to visit in our lifetime. Being from Africa, I told him of the cultural richness of Africa, and more specifically, about the Ohafia people of Eastern Nigeria from where I originate.

He listened to my stories of warriors, of a people deeply rooted in traditional beliefs of deities, from those who ensured each farming season yielded great fruits, to those for fertility and successes in battles. He was enthralled by tales passed down to us children at the feet of our grandparents and village elders, under the Mango tree, light supplied by lanterns and the moon, with insects buzzing all around. I literally relived those moments when the parents took myself and the siblings back to the village, leaving our urban lives, to celebrate festive periods.

Having listened in awe, he suggested we plan a visit to Nigeria, to my village, so he could experience for himself this wonderful place.

Then he started talking about his country, about growing up in rural Hungary. I was equally catapulted to this friend’s village and at that moment, it dawned on me how very different we all are, yet the same.

He remembered his very first visit to Budapest, the capital city, how all the stories he had heard of the capital suddenly came alive.

I was excited and swore someday I must visit this beautiful historical city. Definitely on my bucket list this year!!!

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