There’s a certain serenity that comes over me when I’m visiting my home country. It sounds corny but being there really helps contribute to my mental wellbeing. And that’s not to say everything is peaches and cream but there’s an obvious calmness.
I always enjoy going home. The journey, not so much. When you have to make a total of approximately 18 hours travel time, a fight for the armrest can become an important one. Both the departure and returning do not do well for my emotional wellbeing as I am plagued by anxiety during the former and mildly depressed on the latter.
I’ve always been eerie of death.
Growing up, I had a lot of people pass away and watched my parents attend funerals as often as they did weddings.
Gun shots, fires, children running scared, crying, hungry, dying, women screaming, men fighting. I am plagued by these images, which are passed on as fact representing my home. I am not naïve though, I know my home is not without its faults but that does not make me love it any less. Am I scared? Yes. Do I want to run away? Sometimes. But ask me if I love you and my answer is yes. Do I miss you? Of course.
The ideology that in order for a child to succeed in life, academics come first and everything else is secondary was a firm principle throughout my childhood.
It’s an exciting time to be in Zambia after a successful, peaceful and poised exchange of power from the MMD (Movement for Multi-party Democracy) to the PF (Patriotic Front).
It must’ve been ’99 and Macy Gray had just released her album ‘On How Life Is’ and that title and album have stuck with me since.
Every year I’ve told myself I’ll attend a TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival) movie and every year comes and goes, excuses, excuses. This year, I buckled down after learning the documentary ‘Dark Girls’ would be showing and waited a total of an hour and fifteen minutes on the phone to purchase my tickets. And it was all worth it.
