The Glasgow skyline was still new to me when I climbed into a taxi, expecting nothing more than a routine ride to my next assignment. But as the driver turned and offered a friendly greeting, my assumptions were immediately challenged. “My name is Saeed. I’m from Iraq,” he said with a smile that disarmed any lingering tension.
Growing up in Nigeria, my knowledge of Iraq was shaped almost entirely by history books and television news. The name Saddam Hussein dominated those narratives, leaving little room for the complexities of a nation and its people. So, for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of uncertainty. Should I stay and engage, or come up with an excuse to end the ride early?
A Brief Moment of Uncertainty
For a few seconds, my mind raced through possibilities. The history books had painted Iraq in stark, unflattering strokes, and the 24-hour news cycle had reinforced that image. Yet, as I looked at Saeed’s face—open, friendly, and clearly proud of his heritage—I knew that common sense had to prevail. I relaxed into the seat and let the conversation unfold.
Thankfully, I did. What followed was a 14 to 16 minute taxi ride that turned into one of the most pleasant journeys I have had in Glasgow. Saeed was warm, cheerful, and full of stories. We spoke about football, and he told me he supports Celtic Football Club—a team that had a Nigerian player on their books the previous season. That piece of trivia became a bridge between Iraq, Nigeria, and Scotland, and soon we were chatting like old friends.
14 Minutes That Changed My Perspective
The ride was not just about football. Saeed shared details about his life in Glasgow, his family back in Iraq, and his experiences navigating a new culture. He spoke with pride about his roots and with gratitude about his adopted home. In those brief minutes, I realized that social media and news headlines often reduce people to single stories, but real life is far more layered.
By the time Saeed pulled up to my destination, I had gained a new friend. The encounter reminded me that we should never judge a country by one famous person or by what we see in the news. Every country has good, hardworking, and kind people who are simply trying to make a living and take care of their families. Iraq is no exception, and neither is Nigeria.
The Trap of Stereotypes
This is a lesson that resonates deeply with me as a Nigerian journalist. Too often, Nigeria is judged by the actions of a few individuals, while the achievements of millions go unnoticed. But whenever you travel, you encounter Nigerians doing remarkable things as doctors, teachers, engineers, journalists, athletes, business owners, and in countless other professions. We have intelligent, talented, and hardworking citizens spread across the globe, contributing to every sector of society.
Meeting Saeed showed me once again that every country has a story much bigger than its stereotype. The Commonwealth Games, now underway in Glasgow for the 2026 edition, is a perfect example of how people from different backgrounds can come together to celebrate excellence, culture, and friendship. It is a reminder that our shared humanity is far more powerful than our differences.
Nigeria’s Parallel
As a nation, Nigeria understands the weight of negative perception. We see it every day in international media reports and in the assumptions people make when they learn where we are from. Yet, the Nigerians I have met abroad—whether in medicine, technology, education, or the arts—consistently defy those expectations. They are building a story that is rich, diverse, and deserving of recognition.
Saeed, in his own small way, did the same for Iraq. He replaced a generic, fear-based image with the portrait of a man with hopes, humour, and a deep sense of hospitality. That is the power of personal connection. It breaks down walls that no policy or lecture can dismantle.
Missing Glasses, Found Perspective
While Glasgow has helped me see people and cultures differently, I am still praying that my actual glasses find their way back to me. They went missing somewhere in this bustling city, and all my searching has not turned them up. It is a small inconvenience compared to the profound lesson I learned in that taxi, but one that keeps me on my toes.
So, if my glasses are reading this from somewhere in Glasgow, please come back home. Your owner is beginning to miss you. And if you happen to cross paths with Saeed on your journey, do tell him I said thank you for the ride and the reminder.
