No One Warns Immigrants About the Silence
When people move to the UK, everyone says, “You’ll be fine.”
But no one warns you about the silence.
The kind that fills your chest when you come home from a 12-hour shift …too tired to cook, too broke to order food …and the walls don’t answer when you talk.
Back home, in Africa, there was always noise …neighbours arguing, radios playing, kids laughing outside, boda guys shouting across the road.
Here, even the air feels like it’s watching you quietly.
At first, you think you’re strong.
You smile through the cold, through the confused looks when you don’t catch the accent, through the “where are you really from?” that hides behind polite smiles.
But it’s the small things that wear you down.
Having to repeat your name until it doesn’t sound like you anymore.
Being called “love” but never truly seen.
Hearing your qualifications don’t count because they’re “not UK standard.”
You start from scratch. Again.
Washing dishes. Cleaning houses. Sending money home like it doesn’t ache.
Telling your family you’re fine, even when you cry at the bus stop because your card declined.
Still… there are moments.
Catching the eye of another African on the bus and sharing a silent smile.
Hearing an Afrobeats song in a corner shop and feeling your heart breathe again.
Cooking familiar food in a cold kitchen and, for a moment, it smells like home.
And slowly, life rebuilds itself.
Not the way you imagined, but piece by piece ….quietly, stubbornly, beautifully.
Because being an immigrant isn’t just about survival.
It’s about learning to belong in a place that never expected you to stay… and still daring to call it home.
First time using Air peace two weeks ago, flight was delayed for 2 hrs, I was like not bad. Coming back the next day, it was delayed from 2pm till 1am. We got to Lagos by 2am and I got home by 3am, my parents could not believe it.
For your peace of mind, avoid Air peace.