Why Is America The Greatest Country In The World?

Because it knows how to reward dopamine.

There’s a common misconception dopamine is released in the brain as a result of engaging in pleasurable activities like sex, eating a nice meal, having a drink etc.

But hold on to that thought for a second.

In which other country would an immigrant from Mexico, Italy, India or somewhere in Africa move to, start a business or get a job, see five of their kids through college and then one of them goes on to build a Silicon Valley startup worth $ 7 billion.

I don’t know whose family history this is exactly, but if you drew a line across the stories of immigrants, and even people of colour (despite the depths of institutional racism reported across the country), America rewards dopamine.

America rewards hardworking people.

Which takes us back to the third sentence in this post.

The misconception surrounding dopamine.

We commonly believe dopamine is only attributed to activities that can be termed as natty and time-wasting like Netflix & gaming.

But where else can a gamer (regarded as deadbeat in other cultures) go on to become a reality star, stack bundles of cash and even build a business off such natty behaviour?

Yet another reward for dopamine.

But this isn’t even the misconception of dopamine.

The bigger misconception is we believe dopamine only comes as an end product. We don’t even know dopamine is also tied to the process.

The process of building a business and racking small wins like your first order, your 10th sale, your 50th customer and then onto bigger things.

Dopamine hits like waking up everyday to Nike adverts and seeing these NBA players in the flesh and knowing that if you could put in work, chances are you could make it.

Dopamine hits like seeing Serena Williams on TV and being able to relate to her because her cousin was your classmate in high school.

Dopamine hits like walking down the Hollywood Boulevard and bumping into your favourite actor.

That kind of dopamine hit.

The one that assures you that everything is possible if you keep striving.

There’s a win around the corner.

Success isn’t far away.

This week there was another conversation again concerning the Yahoo menace in Nigeria.

I recall a friend sharing this story on Twitter:

“I just had one of the most unnerving  experience of my life.

So this woman on my street called me to help her to talk her child that’s been moving with Yahoo boys and apparently started doing it too, the woman started the conversation by saying I’m an example of someone the boy should emulate and see as a mentor, seeing how I’m nicely dressed going to work everyday and I how I keep my life off drugs and going about things the right way.

So I told the boy, why old fashioned hard work pays and how there are legit ICT skills he can learn.

The part that blew me away, boy started by saying no disrespect to me but looking good in shirt and tie or being unproblematic doesn’t pay the major bills, that he doesn’t see me driving a car, but bro Tunde who didn’t even finish secondary school but does “G” drives a nice car.

Boy said he can’t waste the next ten years of his life just to become a guy that wear shirt and tie to fly bike to work or wait for office bus.

I tried to tell him that I have responsibilities and buying a car is a luxury I can’t afford right now that there are guys who are like me who can actually “ball” and that I enjoy life in a different way than spending money on call girls and alcohol.

Boy said he got an iTunes gift card of $200 within 2 days of asking and no work can guarantee him that..

At that point I just kept mute and told the mother to pray for him or find someone he respects to talk him out of it.

Kids these days see Yahoo boys as mentors than regular hard working guys because our society worships money and we live in a country that rewards greedy politicians than Doctors, teachers and co.”

This tweet is over 1 year old.

But it still lives in my head.

I remember writing “We need role models in our community. But we don’t just need role models, we need RICH role models with legal means” as a response.

But I don’t just think that’s enough.

Rich role models are great.

But people want to also feel like their efforts matter.

People want to believe their work can bring them success. Not get snuffed out by a system that rewards the guy who can break the law and get away with it.

In this fast paced Indomie world we live in today where instant gratification reigns supreme, we also need a system that rewards dopamine.

But not dopamine as we know it.

But as Americans & American immigrants know it.

I have a feeling this is why comedy, skit making & social media influencing are on the high nowadays.

With the exposure, monies, sponsorship & endorsement deals, it’s the closest thing to a reward system.

A dopamine reward system.

I could stay in this house for weeks and no one would knock on my door unless I’m expecting them.

Sometimes when I hear someone knocking, I’m genuinely surprised. Other times, people have knocked and left because they didn’t get a response.

Truth is, it wasn’t on purpose. I either didn’t hear them or I heard and thought it was on someone else’s door.

And as much as I love the privacy this way of living affords me, a part of me feels like this is a dangerous way to live.

I’ve heard stories of people who’ve died and left rotting in their houses unbeknownst to their neighbours.

Back in the day, people would sit outside their houses in the evenings with their friends and neighbours hashing out how their day went, laughing, chatting and catching up.

Nowadays, our apartment windows are so tiny, it sounds idealistic having a backyard or even front porches/verandahs where people can come outside to sit and say hi to their neighbours.

Maybe we should blame it on the stress that comes with city life.

Or maybe we should blame it on fucked up housing and badly designed buildings.

Or maybe we should blame it on ourselves.

We claim to have left the village for the city in search of a better life.

However, it seems we instead left our humanity and community behind.

It’s fucked up, this modern living.

A lot is going on in the world right now, and I’m rife with emotions this morning.

Chelsea won the Champions League last night.

But today is #BiafraRemembranceDay

At this moment, I don’t know if I should talk about my father who was born in the middle of the war.

Or I should talk about the constant persecution of the Igbos.

Or I should talk about the time when I was in Primary 3 when Igbos in Ikom, Cross River State were attacked, people maimed, their shops burnt, goods destroyed, families separated, people killed, lives never to be the same again.

This happens all over Nigeria every year.

But today, I’ll talk about Mr Laz.

In 2016, I was an intern at VON in Abuja when I met Mr Laz.

I was living with a relative who attended the same church as him. He came for oil prospecting and we all stayed in the same house for months.

I keep a lot of notebooks, jotters and diaries where I write about a lot of random stuff I’m thinking about.

Even my mother insists on taking jotters as souvenirs when she attends weddings, just so she can give them to me. Lol

Mr Laz was probably bored one day, and he started reading some of them.

I have no idea why.

I come back home from work one day and he tells me he has been reading some of my stories. I’m so embarrassed!!!! 😆

But then he starts lavishing me with compliments and telling me they are quite good, and he had no idea I had an artistic side. I start blushing ☺️

Over time, we bonded over stories and then one day he tells me a story about his childhood. A story about Biafra.

Mr Laz was born in the North (can’t remember the exact state). But he told me he was a child, say between 5 and 7 when the war broke out.

His mother was able to smuggle them out and they managed to get on a train headed to Igboland.

They thought they were safe and everything was behind them as they arrived Benue.

Benue is in the Middle Belt, and those who travel to the North from the Southern part of Nigeria know it’s a gateway to Enugu and Cross River.

But what they saw at Benue was unbelievable!

People were lying in wait killing every male that stepped out of any train coming from the North.

Imagine escaping the North and reaching Benue, only to be hacked to death. I mean, you can smell the okpa they sell at Enugu from Makurdi.

You could smell your home, but you’d never reach there. Onwu ejituogi n’uzo.

So, how did Mr Laz survive?

His mother had to dress him up like a girl.

Oh, it was easy.

Mr Laz is a very handsome man. You can only imagine how he looked like a child.

Add a dress, eyeliner and scarf, and you have a beautiful girl.

They hacked down every male – old or young.

Who knows, they might have found him out if some Biafran soldiers who heard about what was going on didn’t pull up at Benue with automatic weapons and dispelled the murderers.

That was the only way the rest of the Igbos running from the North could pass into Igboland.

Imagine a child living through these horror stories and having to remember and retell them every time?

They’ll tell you it was a civil war, but don’t let anyone fool you.

What they did to the Igbos was a GENOCIDE!!!

They didn’t kill you because you were successful or domineering or diligent or hardworking or an overcomer.

They killed you because you were IGBO.

They killed you because an Igbo is all of the above and more.

And even though I have certain reservations about the current state of the Biafra Movement, I choose to know my story.

Know your story too.

Because one day we’ll all tell our stories.

Maybe yours truly might even make a movie.

#Ozoemena But until then… #Echezona

PS: Who knows, maybe my father or Mr Laz might have been one of the children in this picture.

“Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.” – Chinua Achebe (Things Fall Apart)