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    Ijiti: Reflections of a Soldier
    Ijiti: Reflections of a Soldier
    Ijiti: Reflections of a Soldier
    Ebook103 pages1 hour

    Ijiti: Reflections of a Soldier

    By Femi M. Ijiti and Millicent N. Ugo

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    About this ebook

    Ijiti: Reflections of a Soldier presents a gripping memoir loosely based on the life of Femi Ijiti, a young US soldier of Nigerian ancestry. His story begins in Nigeria, where he first became acquainted with guns, power, and the Nigerian military. These early impressions formed the foundation for his active and long-term career as a soldier with the US Army. An honest portrayal of the military life, Ijiti highlights the hardships he faced immigrating to a new country as a young African. He talks about the challenges of making friends when you are an outcast by default and what it was like returning home from war in Iraq with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

    In addition to exploring the many facets of life as a deployed US soldier at war, Ijiti paints a raw picture of the destructive nature of PTSD and highlights the need for increased PTSD education in the army. Ijiti also considers the need for an increased presence of African Americans and Africans in the US military.

    Ijiti is an honest tale of an American and Nigerian soldier with ancestral origins far different from the usual American soldier, as well as the role that ancestry played in a distinguished military career.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTrafford Publishing
    Release dateJul 18, 2011
    ISBN9781426972232
    Ijiti: Reflections of a Soldier
    Author

    Femi M. Ijiti

    Femi Ijiti is an engineer for Honeywell, a business owner, a promoter, a soldier, and a father of Nigerian ancestry. He lives in Maryland. Millicent N. Ugo, MSC, is the owner and senior consultant at Association Management Professionals. She lives in the Washington, DC, area.

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      Book preview

      Ijiti - Femi M. Ijiti

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Being Part of Something Great

      Chapter 2

      The Reality of Brotherhood

      Chapter 3

      Deployed Little African Boy…

      Chapter 4

      PTSD: A Soldier’s Perspective

      Chapter 5

      The End

      I dedicate this book to my children:

      Kele & Bola Ijiti

      Know that I, always, will love you.

      Dad.

      I thank God for making everything in my life, including the initiation and completion of this book, possible.

      I would like to thank my parents for giving me the opportunity to leave Nigeria at a young age. They took the brave initiative to expose me to different ways and perspectives of life and for that, I am forever indebted.

      I would like to thank my siblings—Temi, Kunle, and Yemi—for their unconditional love and support. Most importantly, I thank them all for allowing me to always be myself.

      I would like to thank the mother of my children—Nana—for helping me create my legacy.

      I would like to thank my Uncle Moses and Aunty Funmi for taking in a total stranger when the choice was not mandatory.

      I would like to thank Millicent Ugo of Association Management Professionals, for helping me complete this project.

      I would like to thank Shaila Mentore for facilitating the completion of this project.

      I would like to thank Carl Wineburger for everything he has done for me personally and professionally. I especially want to thank him for encouraging me to see this book through to the end.

      I would like to thank Alpha Keita for the cover image.

      I would like to thank the U.S. Army for helping to shape the man I have become today and exposing me to the different experiences I have garnered.

      I would like to thank all my colleagues, associates, friends, and acquaintances that supported me in moving forward with this project. To those that encouraged me to keep writing, I thank you all.

      IJITI

      Reflections of a Soldier

      Chapter 1

      Being Part of Something Great

      I am many things to many people…

      My name is Captain Ijiti Benjamin. I am many things to many people—Nigerian, American, a son to my father, a brother to my siblings, husband to my wife, an engineer to my community, and a father to my children. Most importantly, I am a soldier to my country.

      As a young boy growing up amongst the people of Ondo State in the Southwestern region of Nigeria, I loved one man—my father Seun Benjamin. For thirty years, my father devoted his life as a Chief Operational Officer to a major Swiss airline in Nigeria. From a tender age, I knew my father was not an ordinary man. The perks my family often enjoyed as a result of my father’s employer or personal acquaintances were often above average. I can recall the luxury of being able to spend a year in London with my family, and trips to Paris, Germany, the U.S., and Switzerland before the age of thirteen. My parents raised three boys and a girl in the harsh territory of Nigeria and ensured our unequivocal safety.

      Every day of work, my father was required to wear the standard dark blue double breasted pilot jacket with three gold stripes sewn on the edges of the sleeves, a standard pilot’s cap and standard dark blue pilot’s pants. There was nothing standard, however, about my father’s uniform. Chika, our house help, was required to present a clean and sharply ironed uniform to my father every morning before his bath. The buttons had to be shined and the seams on the pants had to be ironed in. If my father could not see his own reflection in his black shoes, there would be a problem that morning. For many years of my young life, I would wake up in anticipation of seeing my father off to work and greeting him upon his return for the pleasure of being seen with him in his uniform. I revered and loved his uniform. Later on in life, I would learn to revere and love my own uniform, as I had my father’s.

      In a third world country laden with rampant and incessant political corruption and scarcity of resources, my father hobnobbed and networked with senior level executives and politicians to ensure that his objectives were met and that his family was fed. Despite the demands of his position, he ensured that there was always quality time with his family. I admire that quality in a man greatly. As I grow older and acquire more responsibilities in life, the leisure time available to devote to each responsibility adequately becomes less and less. I understand that family is important. I respect the man that strives to consistently make his family a priority.

      The American military is a family institution and I, unknowingly, fell in love with it. One of the few reasons I joined the United States Army, at the age of 18, was because I would be allowed to play with guns and I knew that I wanted to have power. My understanding, at that time, of what the military signified to both enemies and allies alike but also to my family had not yet even began to fully form. I was still a very young boy laden with opinions and perspectives on life that were shaped largely in part by my Nigerian upbringing. I just knew that, even at my young age, as my influential father’s first son—I already had a certain level of respect and power. It was the biggest high and I wanted to capitalize on it.

      Everyone wanted to be the president of Nigeria where I grew up. Sadly, because the Nigerian presidency meant money and power; two factors that can make any man king anywhere in the world. I grew up hearing stories of and, in some situations, witnessing acts of political corruption for the purpose of personal gain. From often being the silent young observer in the room, I learned to understand what it meant to have power. I witnessed how powerless people became without money. Most importantly, I learned that whoever has the guns and the most of them—rules and wins.

      When I was a young boy, Nigeria’s military regime controlled much of the power and the money. Without fully understanding what the military meant or even understanding that each nation had its own military unit, I knew that the military was for me. I knew that if I enlisted, I would learn all I needed to know about weapons and more importantly, I would get my very own uniform. My young mind thought that if I enlisted in the military and became super efficient at being a soldier, I could quickly rise to power and start a coup in Nigeria and perhaps, take over the presidency. I guess, I too, had the same dream as my peers, as I too, wanted to be President. I would later come to learn that being in the military was less about securing power and money at any means and more about being a part of something great, as well as securing a future for your family.

      Like most wealthy families in Nigeria, my parents sent me abroad to the United States to live with my uncle once I reached the age of 13. The idea behind this was to ensure that your Nigerian child got a solid and uninterrupted education as Nigeria’s educational system—like every thing else—had become too volatile. My uncle, Oluwaseyi Ekpan, was my mother’s older brother who had opted to search for his wealth in the United States rather than Nigeria. Thankfully, my experience of traveling outside of Nigeria from a young age allowed me to easily transition into my new life in New Jersey.

      I was the only one sent here to live with my uncle. My other siblings were too young to be without my parents, so I was to be the brave first son, a title that I have come to own, and pave the way for my siblings who would later join me. I was a typical awkward teenager. I loved the movies. I dreamed of money. I loved girls. I missed my family, but I wanted to make them proud of me. I lived with five people that I will never forget. I had a great relationship with my uncle’s wife—aunty Fidelia—who became my second mother. I would learn to become used to her eccentric ways and later, begin to

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