Homecoming Part III: Arrival

It resembled a place she once called home. Nostalgic memories flooded her mind on the drive from the airport.

The streets were familiar. She could trace the route home in her sleep. Not much change. Just dilapidation.

Everywhere she looked, the city was painted with struggle, hopelessness. People missioning to and fro for very little. Money was scarce. Needs were many.

Arriving at their destination, the joy of home filled her. How she loved the large garden and warmness of the house. But she was sad too. Sad to see the house standing – no longer in its former glory, but a stagnant replica of what was.

In spite of it all, she was relieved to be home. A place she could call home and be welcomed with open arms.

The heat bore at her. When the rain came, she welcomed the breeze it brought. The hot earth had always been a metaphor of the struggle of her homeland. Scorching, unforgiving, uncomfortable, tiring and in desperate need of a cooling balm.

Mother lightened her spirit. She’d bought all her favourite local foods and made sure she was comfortable. So typically her. Always wanting to make sure others were alright. It felt good to be taken care of.

She was amazed at how quiet she became. Referred to as the ‘loud one’ in the family, she didn’t have much to say. She was an observer. Doing as told. Adhering to cultural norms. Realising she needed to take care of the parents and the home.

Was this what life was going to be? A constant state of wander? She needed to get a game plan in order. And fast.


There’s no place like home!

“I mean no place child!”

That was the theme song for the 1985 hit series ‘227‘. Mama Dubes introduced us to this TV series and it became a family favourite for us all. We had it on tape and watched it over and over again with no complaints. It brings back such heartwarming memories of precious moments spent with family.

Speaking of family and home, I was fortunate to go home this past December. My other travel plans fell through and I made the journey back home. They say things happen for a reason and they sure do. My trip home led to a series of full circle moments that reminded me just why I needed to be there.

During my time at home we went to visit my grandmother at our homestead AKA kumusha in Lower Gwelo. It is the rural part of Gweru where my father was raised. My roots lie in that remote part of the world. Living in the diaspora can often be lonely and unnerving. It felt good to head back home and reconnect with loved ones.

There is something about going back to your roots that is grounding and puts everything into perspective. It reminds you that all will be well in this world. That you are loved and cherished in spite of what the world seems to throw at you. There is no place where I feel safer, more secure and solid in myself than when I am at home with my family. A place where we talk about any and everything; where we reminisce on days gone by; where we eat our fave home cooked meals; where we laugh and lean on each other. A place where we just bask in each others’ presence. It is like bathing in sunlight after a miserable European winter.

There really is no place on earth like it. I am so grateful to have this place that I can call home.