With salons, eateries and boutiques, the African community is slowly finding a footing in Delhi. Their businesses might yet be small and the challenges big, but they are convinced that India is inextricably linked to their future



On a chilly evening in December 2011, William, a 22-year-old Congolese student, sat in his apartment in southwest Delhi's Dwarka, holding an invitation to a wedding. He was in a quandary: should he go or not? He had already bought a gift for the bride though - a big white clock. William had met the bride, Priya, an 18-year-old born into a Punjabi family, a little more than a year ago at an English language class in South Extension. Their meetings continued for some time, until Priya's parents found her a groom. Priya had hoped for a future with William, but given his skin colour the two didn't stand a chance. After her wedding, Priya found, among the wedding gifts, a big white clock. William did go to her wedding after all; it gave him a sense of closure. And it gave Richie Ronsard, William's roommate at the time, an idea for a movie.

This movie is the first project of CineAfrica, a pan-African film-making venture launched in July this year by the Congolese Community of India. The community is the unofficial arm of the embassy of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. And this movie is an attempt to clear the air between the locals and the fast-growing community of Africans who visit India for education, business, medical treatment, and asylum. Most of them are Nigerians, while others hail from Congo, Uganda, Kenya, Somalia, et cetera. According to official estimates, nearly 40,000 Nigerians obtained Indian visas during 2012; in fact as many as 4,000 Nigerians live in Delhi alone. Ronsard says there are 5,000 Congolese in India.

Dressed in a natty dark suit, with carefully pruned sideburns, pencil moustache and a wispy beard, Ronsard has the demeanour of someone who wants to make it big in politics. And India is his stepping stone towards that ambition. The 23-year-old from Kinshasa is pursuing a bachelor's degree in politics, philosophy and economics at Amity University, Noida. Various degree courses and job-oriented diploma programmes in networking and hardware are hugely popular among African students. "A degree in IT from India is preferred to an equivalent degree from our country. So when we go back, it's easier for us to find a job," says David Elisha, a 34-year-old from Nigeria who is doing BSc in hardware, networking and digital communication. Ronsard and Elisha belong to a small section of urbane African natives whose occupation requires them to spend much of their time inside their multicultural campuses. It's when they leave their classrooms and walk down Indian streets that they are met with curious - sometimes inimical - stares because of their colour. But the two men have found ways to fend off questioning eyes. While Ronsard bought a car to avoid travelling in the Delhi Metro, Elisha managed to find a place in a plush residential area after much struggle. They think nothing of such small adjustments; their stay in India, after all, is tied to their educational courses. And one day they'll go back. But quite a few have come prepared to stay for long. They are here to earn a living.

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On one side of a busy thoroughfare in south Delhi stands the Select Citywalk mall. On the other, a muddy lane runs through overgrown weeds and heaps of garbage. It branches out into narrow streets cramped with closely-packed houses. This is Khirki Extension, an unauthorised neighbourhood where low- and middle-income Indians share space with African migrants. At the far end of a narrow street, under a roadside tent, Vimla, a middle-aged woman who earns her living by ironing clothes, whips out her no-frills phone to make a call. The screen flashes a name: "Habsi 1" [a derogatory term used originally for Abyssinians]. "Bhaiyya aap turant aa jao. Koi milne aaya hai [Come immediately. Someone wants to meet you]," she tells the person on the other end. A few moments later, a tall, unassuming man in a black and blue-striped T-shirt and denims appears.

Chuks Aghede, 34, is the CEO - and the only employee - of a firm that goes by the name, African Laundry and Dry-cleaning Services, and the tag line: "Try once and you will convinced [sic]". He is quick to offer his business card - white text on plain black background - and requests: "Don't lose it. It's important." Aghede used to work as a salesman for a Lagos-based food and beverages company. In August 2009, he was one among the many who were laid off by the loss-making company. Finally, in January 2012, Aghede left Lagos for New Delhi, hoping to find work. For several jobless days in New Delhi, Aghede lived off a friend. One day, the friend noticed that Aghede was good at washing clothes. Aghede lost no time in selling off his mobile phone to print some business cards, even before he could buy a washing machine. Four months later, he got himself a washing machine. He was in business.

On the top floor of a part-brick, part-concrete tenement, Aghede's workplace is a one-bedroom apartment, for which he pays Rs 8,000 a month. It's with much pride that he opens the door to a room full of clothes - some sprawled across the floor, on the couch and the chair, and some stuffed inside the shelves. He now plans to grow his laundry business and exchanges ideas with Vimla regularly. Clearly, he will not go back soon. His only quibble: "The locals sometimes mispronounce my first name, especially the last two letters. It's not a difficult name; I wish they called me Chuks." The neighbours aren't too welcoming towards the Africans. "They overstay their visas and some of them engage in illegal activities. The women don't dress properly. It's a conservative area. There are kids around," says a real estate broker. But practical and economic considerations have trumped concerns over cultural differences. With the arrival of African migrants in Khirki Extension, the rents have climbed as much as 30 per cent.

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The migrants are not without complaints either. At the right-hand corner of a busy crossroad in the area, a short flight of steps leads to a modest cabin. It's a barbershop that serves only Africans. Inside, a stocky Nigerian man in an overlong red T-shirt, with fading tattoos up his arms, runs a hair clipper through his customer's hair. On a settee, two men are awaiting their turn for a haircut. "So, is staring part of your culture? Why does everyone stare at us wherever we go?" asks the younger of the two men. But others have greater things to worry about. "The other day, somebody in the neighbourhood dropped an egg on my friend's head," complains the other, a strapping man who goes by the name of CJ. The barber now takes a moment off to disclose that the shop was vandalised one night by a group of locals.

It's easier for those working at the barbershop to openly voice their concerns; this little-known temporary utilitarian structure will run as long as its owner doesn't draw the attention of immigration authorities. But others who have spent a fair amount of money on their businesses are careful not to speak of their troubles. It is, after all, not easy for a Nigerian to set up shop in India. Much of this has to do with the alleged involvement of Nigerians in organised crime across the country. According to the Nigerian High Commission, more than 500 Nigerians are lodged in various jails across India. "There are at least 125 Nigerian nationals in Tihar jail, of which 10-12 are women [the jail has 13,000 inmates]. Ninety per cent of the cases involving Nigerians is related to drug trafficking and the rest include cyber-scams, credit card fraud et cetera," says Sunil Kumar Gupta, the jail's law officer.

Gupta discloses that exporting clothes and other items from India may sometimes be used as a front for drug trafficking; at other times, it's purely business. Clothes bought for Rs 300-500 apiece from Tirupur and Coimbatore sell for as much as Rs 1,800-2,000 across Nigeria. Some have put their entrepreneurial skills to another use. This is evident in the many African hair salons that have sprung up in several parts of Delhi.

"India is not a bad country. You must know how to conduct yourself," says Destiny Achonam, a 26-year-old Nigerian who works at Nija Barber's Shop, a salon owned by Antony Nweke at Arjun Nagar, a teeming Punjabi neighbourhood in Safdarjung Enclave. The glass-fronted salon, painted black, white and red, is small but chic. Its clients are fashion-conscious Africans who have a hard time maintaining their hair in India. Unfamiliarity with Afro-textured and coil-prone hair makes it difficult for Indian salons to style their hair. The five hairdressers at the shop, which mostly caters to men, do their clients' hair in a number of ways - the two most popular of which are the Gallas cut (which is a variant of the Mohawk hairstyle worn by French footballer William Gallas) and Bob Marley dreadlocks. Apart from African clients, who number 25-30 on weekends, the salon is frequented by Indian women who pay Rs 500 to have their hair braided.

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The lack of homegrown food too has created opportunities for business, on the sly, of course. Down an uninviting backstreet in south Delhi's Krishna Nagar, the basement of a residential building is guarded by a black barred gate. The gate opens to a large, dim-lit, squeaky-clean room that has lounge-like character: chestnut walls, huge black couches, an LCD television and strobe lights. This is an "African kitchen", one of the many such informal eateries that nestle quietly in small apartments, bear no shop signs and are frequented by Africans who want to eat, drink and make merry. This one is run by Jack Ogbonna, a brawny 30-year-old Nigerian. The place opened just two weeks ago, after Ogbonna rented a fixer-upper for Rs 17,000 a month and renovated it. The kitchen serves, among other things, Nigerian goat meat pepper soap, smoked crayfish, and plantain cooked in palm oil. Most of the ingredients have been sourced from Delhi's INA Market.

On the music player, a track by a South Indian artist is playing to reggae beats. "I got this song from my Indian neighbours, and remixed it," Ogbonna says, as he points out that the only Indians to visit this kitchen are from north-east India. It is not uncommon for African men in India to strike up a friendship with women from the northeast. Like George Christopher and his Mizo wife. A few chat sessions on Yahoo messenger across two different continents brought the two closer. The cyber friends finally got married in 2009, when Christopher came down to Mizoram. His marriage to an Indian woman also made it possible for Christopher to gain an X (entry) visa, which is available to a foreign national married to an Indian citizen and can be extended on a year-to-year basis for a period of five years. They have two children - a daughter and a son. "In 2015, I'll take my family to Nigeria for the first time," he says. Not far from Nija Barber's shop in Arjun Nagar is Manny's Square. This humble diner, owned by Christopher's wife and run by him, has been serving Nigerian food since 2010. Inside, the rules are taped on the wall: "No fighting or settling any issues here."



Some names have been changed on request. Read the longer version at: mybs.in/7cfe3

Most African businesses in India have come up primarily to serve their compatriots. But Diamond Ark is not one of them. "I want to be recognised as a Nigerian-born Indian designer," says Hillary John Uche, who runs the boutique in Arjun Nagar. The 32-year-old from Nigeria grew fond of India's diverse textile tradition while on holiday in 2007. In 2010, Uche returned to India, studied fashion design at JD Institute of Fashion Technology in Delhi, won the Best International Student award and launched Diamond Ark in September 2012. It is an unpretentious store packed wall to wall with evening gowns, dinner jackets, shirts and bow ties with polka dots and stripes. "I plan to spend at least the next 50 years in India," says Uche. "I look at my colour as an advantage. It announces my presence, and helps me get noticed."