I, Michael, had left my hometown fifteen years ago with nothing but a small suitcase and a head full of dreams. Life abroad had been a whirlwind of long hours, hard work, and constant struggle to survive in a foreign land. Every day I thought of returning home, imagining the familiar streets, the market where I used to buy maize, and the dusty playground where I had spent endless hours as a child. Yet each time I felt I had finally made enough money, I postponed the trip, convincing myself that “one more year” would make all the difference. But finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I booked my flight. I was going home, ready to reconnect with my past.
The plane touched down just as the sun dipped behind the hills, painting the sky orange and gold. Stepping out, I was struck by the familiar smells—smoke from charcoal fires, fresh earth from nearby farms, and the scent of the warm wind that carried memories from my childhood. Driving through the narrow roads in a taxi, I saw both change and continuity: children ran barefoot along the streets, women carried baskets of produce on their heads, and elders still sat under trees, quietly observing life. My heart raced with a mixture of excitement and unease, though I couldn’t explain why.…CONTINUE READING
