Africans and Self Preservation

Ask a Nigerian if he's ever been skydiving and you will most likely receive an entertaining response. "Ah ah, you dey craze! What business do I have jumping from aeroplane?"

Falling 13,000 ft (3962m) above the Arizona Desert. The body soon reaches terminal velocity, which is about 124mph (200kph)Last week, I decided to do something I've wanted to for about a year. I went skydiving.

The responses I have gotten from fellow Nigerians since the jump have been a mixture of awe and disapproval, and that's from people my age. I am curious to hear the entertainment Nigerians over 30 years old could provide.

For most of my childhood and adolescence, I shared the same views as most other Nigerians. Skydiving just wasn't something I would consider doing unless my plane was about to crash.

On top of any any social stigma, being an only child didn't help, as most of my life I was kept sheltered and safe. Fortunately as a male, I still got my fair share of thrill and danger through athletics, and I gloriously broke my arm at the age of thirteen after falling down while trying to block the shot of an assistant coach during basketball practice.

I remember my grandmother was visiting from Nigeria at the time, and I was told that the news made her shed a tear or two. Had she seen my arm, which looked like an "L" she may have screamed. It worked out for me that the injury occurred while playing sports at an "official" basketball practice. Had it been anything else, I'm sure I would have had a stern interrogation from my parents about exactly what foolish thing I did to get myself hurt like that.

So, I constantly sensed a proclivity toward self preservation among my African friends that I didn't sense among my American ones. Also I knew as my fellow Nigerian friends did, that hurting myself in a serious way would result in a scolding from my parents before any sympathy would kick in, and maybe even a spanking later if the injury wasn't so serious, so as to keep our foolish childish minds from making the same dangerous choice again.

As I look at my country and my continent on a wider scale, I realize that most of us do not engage in anything remotely dangerous, and those that do are viewed as brutes, wild, or as "hunters" as my aunt would so eloquently say. It seems to me, that among many Nigerians, those that are in the military or police are almost looked down upon because of their profession. Simply put, what they do could get them killed.

I also have noticed that traditionally as Africans were are not know for exploration. I read about people like Christopher Columbus sailing into the unknown, simply having faith that the world was round. He had no guarantee that he wouldn't sail off the edge of the earth. From the limited knowledge I have of African history, it is safe to say that for the most part, we as Africans were very content, peaceful, and stayed put.

Preparation
It was an early Sunday morning when I departed for Eloy, Arizona. It was warm outside, but I dressed in a long sleeve and jeans since I knew it would be cold at high altitude. I was visiting my parents at the time, and did not want to worry them, so my plan was to jump at 7:30 in the morning and make it back in time for church at 11:00. After about an hour and a half drive, I arrived at the Eloy. When I finished signing up, I noticed that an elderly couple and their friend would be jumping with our group. They looked very old indeed, maybe even older than my grandparents, so I guessed their age to be somewhere around 80.

This put a paradigm shifting thought into my head. In Nigeria, men and women this age are reminiscing about "back when I was young and foolish" and living out simple lives, while this couple was about to jump out of an airplane for fun. I thought about my own grandmother, a Nigerian among Nigerians, an old and respected Esan woman and how she would react to jumping out of an airplane. It is almost so inconceivable, that my own tried and true imagination had trouble putting the images together. Although, the little I was able to muster made me grin.

To make matters even more interesting, they did not fit any of the descriptions ascribed to people who jump out of planes. They looked anything but rebellious, uncouth, or deranged. In fact, they looked quite regal, like a king and queen. They were well dressed, no tattoos, and no piercings on the man. So it was safe to rule out their being Hippies.

As time went by, we proceeded to watch a legal video, sign our lives away, and get suited up. During the ride to the airfield, I chatted a bit with one of the old ladies and she treated me as she would her own grandson. She didn't sound strange, but rather bursting with life, with her blue eyes keeping the door to a vault of wisdom that comes with age. Though I was jumping for many reasons: some spiritual, some natural, some entertaining, and even some laughable, having 80 year old people jump out of a plane with me made the whole event more relaxed I thought it would be.