`I remember the dead bodies on the street. And being sick, always sick. I was sick in the sense of being starved most of the time. Crying for me was a form of daily contemplation." Eugene Nwosu (40) is talking about his childhood in Nigeria and his memories of the civil war in Biafra. "I was more confused than frightened," he says, confessing that it is a period in his life he tries not to think much about now.
Nwosu was eight at the time war broke out. His mother was dead; there were seven other siblings. There was very little money. His father sent the children out one by one, to the houses of better-off families, where they worked for their keep.
"I always insisted that I went to school," he says. "I went to school in the evenings and then I studied outside on the path with a candle or a lantern. I had to go outside because the houses were one-roomed, where everyone lived. On the nights it was raining, I didn't get to study."
After finishing school, Nwosu found work with the civil service in Lagos. But he was itchy. "I've always wanted to be moving forward, moving onwards, perhaps because my upbringing was so traumatic. When I was in Lagos, I wanted to go overseas and study accountancy or commercial management."
Together with two other Nigerians, he was offered a scholarship to the Institute of Commercial Marketing in England. "But I couldn't accept it in the end because I didn't have enough funds for a flight or to live when I got there. It was the dream I had wanted, and then when it came, I could not take it up."
In 1984 the death of his father, together with the disappointment of having to give up the opportunity to study in England, made Nwosu feel "both lonely and challenged". At his father's funeral he met an old school-friend, home on holiday from Ireland. She encouraged him to explore the option of studying in Ireland, and sent information on to him when she returned to Dublin.
"I decided to save all my money for a passport and a return flight. At that time, you could get a three-month visa. I thought I would study as many classes as possible when I got to Ireland. I could always come back if it didn't work out."
Things worked out for him. He enrolled at the College of Commerce in Rathmines and now runs his own management consultancy company. He met his wife here and they have an 11-year-old son. His first book, a guide to positive thinking, has just been published. After almost 13 years in Ireland, he feels "half Irish".
In 1985, there were not many non-Irish citizens living in the State, then in severe economic recession. Nor was there anything like the current levels of generic aggression and suspicion towards non-nationals.
"I was a novelty, I suppose," Nwosu remembers. "People were very friendly and welcoming at that time. This attitude has definitely changed. I feel a lot of resentment now. For instance, I now feel paranoid about certain situations which would never have bothered me before. I'd think twice if I saw someone staring at me on the street. Before, I would have smiled at them. Now I'll look straight ahead. That person might have more aggressive intentions than curious ones."
He shrugs. "It's a fact of life, isn't it? Nothing stays the same." Has he suffered racist harassment? "Oh, yes," he says quietly. "But only quite recently. It is very degrading."
Nwosu is alarmed about recent sensational media stories about non-nationals. "Irish society," he points out wryly, "should be better equipped to understand the plight of foreigners." He is anxious that the differentiation is made between genuine asylum seekers and illegal refugees. "I feel very angry about the illegal entrants. These people are not falling from heaven. Someone is passing them through. There's a racket going on somewhere."
He keeps a sheaf of newspaper cuttings in his briefcase about immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers. There is one recent cutting from a well-known Irish Sunday newspaper with the headline: 200 Nigerians Lifted in Huge Fraud Probe. He is very upset about this particular article, which he is actively following up, in his role as secretary of the Union of Nigerian Citizens in Ireland.
"My views on Ireland and its people have not changed overall," he says. "But yes, they have been somewhat altered in the last couple of years. Altered by the minority of Irish people who are feeling insecure by more people coming into their country, whose cultures are unfamiliar to them."
Cut Your Own Firewood: The Ultimate Power To Succeed by Eugene Nwosu is published by Collins Press. Price £6.99.