Why my Nigerian father never said goodbye

After Camilla Balshaw‘s father disappeared, she spent years trying to forget him. But then a meeting with a cousin she never knew existed led to a series of very odd phone calls – and a new understanding of her heritage

I had been warned by my cousin about the strange telephone habits of Nigerians so, as I prepared to speak to my father for the first time in 30 years, I thought I was ready. But I wasn’t. The conversation lasted four minutes. Not the way I had expected to strike up a relationship with the man I had last seen when I was 10.

My memories of my father are sketchy. I have no photographs of him, but I remember he was tall and thin and always wore expensive cologne. He smoked, too, a forgotten brand now relegated to empty packets on eBay.

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