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My uncle picked me up in his arms as soon as I got off the van and carried me onto the verandah. “I welcome you today like a chief. Your feet may touch the ground when you lose your chieftaincy, which begins now,” my uncle said, laughing, as he set me down. I smiled but was nervous. My four cousins—Allie and the three girls, Matilda, Kona, and Sombo—took turns hugging me, their faces bright with smiles.

“You must be hungry; I cooked you a welcome home sackie thomboi,” my aunt said. She had made cassava leaves with chicken just to welcome me. To have chicken prepared for anyone was a rarity, and it was considered an honor. People ate chicken only on holidays like Christmas or New Year’s. Auntie Sallay held my hand and made me sit on a bench next to my uncle. She brought the food out, and my uncle and I ate together from the same plate with our hands. It was a good meal and I licked my fingers, enjoying the rich palm oil. My uncle looked at me, laughing, and said to his wife, “Sallay, you have done it again. This one is here to stay.”

After we washed our hands, my cousin Allie, twenty-one years old, was called to the verandah and asked to show me where I was to sleep. I took my plastic bag and followed him to another house that was behind the one with my uncle’s bedroom. The passageway between the houses was like a pathway with stones carefully placed on each side of the walkway.

Allie held the door for me as I entered the clean, organized room. The bed was made, the clothes that hung on a post were ironed, the shoes were properly lined on a rack, and the brown tile floor was shiny. He pulled a mattress from under the bed and explained to me that I would sleep on the floor, as he and his roommate shared the bed. I was to fold the mattress and put it back under the bed every morning. After he was done explaining how I could contribute to keeping the room clean and in order, I went back to the verandah and sat with my uncle. He put his arm around me and pulled on my nose.

“Are you familiar with the city?” Uncle asked.

“Not really.”

“Allie will take you around sometime, if you like. Or you can venture out there yourself, get lost, and find your way. It will be a good way to get to know the city.” He chuckled. We heard a call for prayer that echoed throughout the city.

“I have to go for prayers. If you need anything, ask your cousins,” he said, taking a kettle from the stoop and beginning to perform ablution. After he was done, he walked down the hill to a nearby mosque. My aunt came out of the room, tying her head with a cloth, and followed my uncle.

I sighed, sitting alone on the verandah. I was no longer nervous, but I missed Benin Home. Later that night, when my uncle and aunt returned from prayers, all my new family gathered around a cassette player on the verandah to listen to stories. My uncle rubbed his hands, pressed the play button, and a famous storyteller named Leleh Gbomba began telling a story about a man who had forgotten his heart at home when he went traveling around the world. I had heard the story in my grandmother’s village when I was younger. My new family laughed throughout the telling of the story. I only smiled and was very quiet that night, as I was to be for a while more. But gradually I adjusted to being around people who were happy all the time.

A day or two after I had started living with my uncle, Allie gave me my first pair of dress shoes, a dress belt, and a stylish shirt.

“If you want to be a gentleman, you have to dress like one.” He laughed. I was about to ask him why he had given me these things when he began to explain: “This is a secret. I want to take you to a dance tonight so you can enjoy yourself. We will leave after Uncle goes to bed.”

That night we snuck out and went dancing at a pub. As Allie and I walked, I remembered when I used to go dancing back in secondary school with friends. It seemed so long ago, but I still recalled the different names of the dance nights: “Back to School,” “Pens Down,” “Bob Marley