POETRY | 47 PAGES
The first couple of poems in this debut offering by Ololade Obadina establish a surprising setting, distinct from the title, across the ocean from the United Kingdom. “Raised by Time” is an origin story that takes readers on a personal chronological tour. The poet persona was raised mostly by their grandparents and only visited their birth parents periodically. Tossed between Ibadan and Abeokuta, a young child searches for identity. It is safe to assume that the author is the persona in her poems, as they are deeply personal and autobiographical.
For this UK, I Go Dey Okay focuses on identity, resilience, and the Nigerian diaspora experience in the United Kingdom. The poet espouses an intimate, internal-monologue tone. The poems are conversational and lyrical, prioritising emotion and rhythm over storytelling. The verses are grounded in code-switching between English and Nigerian Pidgin. Ololade’s voice is honest and pensive, at times weary yet assured, operating at the intersection of cultural bewilderment and survival.
For literature heavily invested in code-switching, the author should be proficient in both languages. The Pidgin in the first two lines of the opening poem contains a structural flaw that appears to create grammatical issues. While Nigerian Pidgin doesn’t necessarily use tenses, certain words distinguish it from English. Without these words, expressions struggle to find identity.
Ibadan pikin, that’s where my story begin. Grandparents’ house, where I learn to grin
There is no place for ‘that’s’ and ‘grin’ if the expressions were to pass for pure Pidgin. It is clear that the poet is trying to maintain the rhyme scheme, which is important for poetry made to excel on the stage. The standout moments in the collection come when the poet steps away from strict, sometimes strained, end-rhymes and leans into haunting, vulnerable imagery.
‘The Arrival’ arrives sharp and witty, telling a tale relatable to every immigrant.
I landed with two suitcases and a prayer I came with nothing but name and faith
Code-switching is an art. Li-Young Lee calls learning a second language ‘survival strategies’ in his poem, Immigrant Blues. Ololade confesses, I’m fluent in two worlds and tired in both… I am Naija / I am Manchester/ I am both, and both are true. The poems ‘Ash and Stillness’, ‘Invisible Victories’, and ‘The Waiting Season’ express intense, viscerally unbridled realities of relocation. The author delivers outstanding imagery in these pieces. She employs simple language and leans into music and audacious metaphors. The speaker’s anxieties pulsate on the page. Frantic heartbeats reverberate in the lines.
There were days I wanted to be ash To stay there, quiet and done — Ash and Stillness
The ache in these lines is bone-deep. Consequent burnout after a long phase of an unsuccessful job search, unabating bills, and piling rejections. Resilience, according to the poet, is the whistling kettle at dawn, the whispered prayers, the next job application, coping with invisible struggles. A typo can echo for hours. Resilience is in turning noise into focus, and chaos into a list.
There is a stretch of uneasy quiet, a season when the immigrant folds and unfolds hope. Nothing happens but constant introspection.
My mind turns into a courtroom Where I’m a witness and judge at the same time — The Waiting Season
One strength of this collection of seventeen poems is its use of concrete, mundane images and its investment in catharsis over performance. The author consistently shows that “dey okay” is a process rather than a state of being. It is not an arrival but a perpetual journey of discovery and survival. In the eponymous poems, she realises that peace does not come with a payslip; hence, she learns to budget hope.
I drink tea to stay warm I drink hope to stay calm — I dey UK, but I’m not okay (part 2)
Hope is a small light in a big room It isn’t big, but it chases gloom — Hope
The immigrant swings between culture and climate, learning to loathe and embrace loneliness at the same time. Because everything is both friend and foe, and rejection is a breath away. Then stability comes, silent like rain.
I build walls because I’m weary of doors That open halfway, then close once more — Loneliness in a Crowd
Sometimes the poems feel repetitive, with overlapping themes and little contrast. The poems would be much stronger if the experience were more specific rather than generic. Diasporic experience and identity matters are identical, yet peculiar. It takes courage to undress before critical eyes and lay innermost thoughts bare on the page, yet that is the meat of poetry; that is when art becomes an encounter.
The poems in For this UK, I Go Dey Okay take you through the full range of emotions, from nostalgia to euphoria. This is a successful first book, tender, full of candour and particularly relatable.
Jide Badmus is an engineer and poet inspired by beauty and destruction. Author of six books, including Love & Antidotes, Obaluaye, and Dawn Is An Open Wound, his poetic exploration extends to curating anthologies. Amongst other things, he is the founder of INKspiredng and CỌ́N-SCÌÒ’s Poetry Editor.
