Awuleth' iPen yami Pen yam'

Saturday, November 19, 2011

nostalgic NoViolet

... It (America) is a beautiful country and it has given me so, so much and hence I have grown to love it, but it doesn’t quite speak to me as does the country of my birth. I am a perpetual outsider. I can’t walk like I own the earth here, because my forefathers were not kings here. I can’t stand on the street and ask a question in my language here, I can’t buy roasted maize at a corner here, I can’t whoop a kid who deserves to be whooped without being arrested here, I can’t do water behind a tree here. Perhaps this has more to do with the person I am versus the place. Nothing totally replaces home for me so that the way I process life here is through what’s missing from it. Living, in a way, becomes a form of mourning and Christ, that can be hard...

4 comments:

  1. SO TRUE,POETIC,NO PLACE LIKE HOME HEY.I HAVE FELT THAT TOO

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  2. it's such a sad feeling you know!
    but i guess one needs to feel it in order to understand the meaning of "home."

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  3. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

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  4. That's exactly how I feel... Thanks for putting it in words .. :)
    "There is no place like home" for sure..!!

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