Travel stripped away my assumptions and revealed a pattern: humanity shares an ancient instinct to protect what is precious from unseen harm. From Igbo traditions to Hebrew scripture, from Indian weddings to Mediterranean amulets, the symbols differ but the message is the same, attention is powerful, envy is real, and vulnerability invites both love and hostility.
Why is food so confusing today? As a nutritional therapist, chef, and world traveller, I’ve seen how rapid changes in what and how we eat have outpaced our biology. Growing up in 1980s Nigeria, meals were fresh, simple, and nourishing, sugary drinks were special treats, not everyday staples. Our diets mirrored the whole, seasonal foods described in the Bible. Today, processed convenience foods dominate, and chronic diseases rise. Maybe remembering the past can help us find clarity.
A chance encounter in Edinburgh led me to a village wedding in northern India and to an experience that felt both sacred and familiar. From fire-lit Hindu wedding rituals and quiet Jain temples to the ghats of Varanasi and the stillness of Sarnath, India unfolded as food, faith, hospitality, and memory. I went alone, but I was never lonely. India didn’t just welcome me, it reminded me of something my soul already knew.
I was explaining my journey through India when someone confidently told me Varanasi was satanic, dirty, dark, and full of floating corpses.
I listened quietly. I had been there. He had not.
What struck me most wasn’t the accusation, but the fear behind it. We visit Roman ruins soaked in pagan blood, name our planets after ancient gods, celebrate Halloween without question, yet struggle to respectfully observe another religion’s sacred space.
Standing by the Ganges River, watching life and death coexist with reverence, stripped away my fear. It reminded me that faith is not threatened by understanding, and that open-mindedness is one of the greatest gifts travel can offer.
Laos completely surprised me, a landlocked gem of Southeast Asia filled with mountains, turquoise waterfalls, peaceful spirituality, and vibrant culture. From swimming in the Kuang Si Falls to joining the sacred Tak Bat ceremony at dawn, climbing the Nam Xay viewpoint, cruising the Mekong, exploring animist traditions, and surviving the great train-ticket drama, every moment was an unexpected adventure. Affordable, lush, gentle, and deeply cultural, Laos made one of the strongest impressions on my Southeast Asia tour, and I know I’ll be back.
Myanmar wasn’t originally on my Southeast Asia itinerary, but curiosity and a friend’s invitation led me there. Between golden pagodas, red betel-stained smiles, and the gentle kindness of its people, Yangon revealed a side of beauty few travelers get to see. From the glittering Shwedagon Pagoda to circular train rides through rice fields, I discovered a country scarred by history yet rich in spirit, flavour, and grace.
When Hendrie and I started dating, people warned me to “make sure he was going to marry me”, because apparently, no decent Igbo man would marry a woman who had “frolicked with an Oyinbo.” I laughed then. I laugh now.
From Bonny Island to Dubai, Cairo to the Netherlands, and back to Nigeria, my journey as an expat wife has been anything but ordinary. I’ve navigated infertility, long-distance love, passive-aggressive playdates, expired snack diplomacy, and that dreaded word, “spouse”.
Now, nearly 40, I’m done biting my tongue. No fake accent. No pretending. No apologizing for who I am.
I watched the expat life first through childhood eyes, polished women throwing lavish parties, multilingual kids, and a lifestyle that felt beautifully out of reach. But as I grew older, I saw the cracks beneath the glamour. Affairs, loneliness, secret vasectomies, and the quiet desperation of trailing spouses began to surface. Expat life was beautiful, yes, but also chaotic, and sometimes painfully complicated. What I didn’t know then was how those early glimpses would help me navigate the journey when I eventually became an expat myself…
At 13, I was called a husband-snatcher. But I was just a girl, tall, curious, full of life, trying to make sense of a world that misunderstood and mistreated me. The predators were protected, and I was punished. Years later, I returned to Bonny Island, not as the shamed teenager they once gossiped about, but as a healed, empowered woman with five children and a mission.
This is a story of enslavement and empowerment, shame and redemption. It’s about what happens when God sends you back, not to punish the past, but to reclaim it for His glory.
Sri Lanka surprised me in the best ways. From the misty train rides through tea country to cooking with locals in a tiny village near Sigiriya, it was a journey full of warmth, discovery, and unexpected flavors. Traveling with five kids (and our Sri Lankan nanny who reunited with her family after two years!) made it even more special and sometimes an extreme sport. What I found most unforgettable wasn’t just the beauty of the landscapes or the spice-laden meals, but the kindness and hospitality of the people. Sri Lanka touched my heart, and I know I’ll be back.
