Going Home

I travel inter-state pretty often. It is a long, three and a half-hour journey lined by thick, green forests. And the occasional grassy plain that is someone’s huge farmland, or just nature punctuating the forests with grassland for the fun of it.

It is all green though, that is what I want to point out (Ha-ha).

And mostly uneventful. The forest just swims by as the car moves on. If you’re like me, you will mostly be left to your thoughts, since I prefer that to making random conversations with random strangers ;}

Over the years, I have tried to figure out ways to make the journey more interesting; by reading a book, by listening to music – the same song in a loop over and over again. Or my favourite – just meditating on what the whole feeling of being on a journey is like.

There is something that I have noticed about journeys, whether by road, or the journey of the soul, or the journey of finding your place in the world (a bit dramatic, but stay with me). I’ve noticed that no matter how easy or comfortable a journey is, what makes you committed to it is what you believe awaits you at the end of the journey. And maybe also, what you are leaving behind when you embark on that journey.

When I started taking that inter-state trip years ago. I wasn’t excited by the journey. I felt like I was leaving a deep sense of home - of understanding of the world and myself – for a new life that wasn’t guaranteed to make me happy. I didn’t sulk through it. But I had such a defeated feeling in my chest, in my stomach as I was going. As though I were heading to the gallows or something. (Why is this piece so dramatic??)

Still, what better opportunity to rediscover the idea of home, and purpose, than by a journey like that?

It is something I have been reminiscing about, something I want to share. To see if other people can relate, too.

WHAT IS HOME?

It’s an important question.

And a few years ago, the African literary scene was filled with work exploring the idea of home.

Which I completely loved.

It made me realize that there are so many angles to the idea of what home could be – from home as a place, to home as the people you love, to home as a feeling, to home as a sense of self. To home as the body.

And home as, you.

You.

I don’t think I ever thought about the idea of home as inhabiting your own identity comfortably before I read Warsan Shire. And this particular line from a poem of hers.

You can’t make homes out of human beings

Someone should have already told you that.

First of all, Warsan Shire’s first poetry collection blew me away. It is titled “Teaching my mother how to give birth”. And I think that title is an odd play on a Somali proverb. I really enjoyed its complexity when I was seventeen. The musicality of the poetry, the way she examined the themes in ways that are so layered, but maintain their heartfelt truth. Seventeen year old Busayo really loved that poetry collection.

Fast forward to now, I can see there is something unique about the lines above.

Making a home out of other people … well, I think it depends on what that home is. Perhaps depending on people for support, for companionship, for love and help when you need it – it’s inevitable that you’ll need that sort of home. In fact, it is recommended that you do.

However, making a home out of people in the sense of your self-worth, your identity, important decisions about your life as an adult, I really don’t think that is such a great idea. Those are the sort of things you can only do by your own self.

And that idea of home, of feeling at home in yourself, it is so nebulous. So vague.

But if you don’t have it, it is one of the most annoying, and disturbing things to experience. You’ll be looking for love and acceptance in all of the wrong places.

Well, at least you know where not to look for it.

THE ONLY WAY OUT OF THE JUNGLE IS THROUGH

Does anyone else watch NPR’s Tiny Desk concerts?

They are really, really great.

I have discovered so many new artists through that YouTube channel. And I’ve rediscovered old artists too (e.g the very complex Taylor Swift).

Anyways, I came across this artist called Mereba who was promoting her new album (years ago) on Tiny Desk. The title of the album was The Jungle Is the Only Way Out. But… we are remaining positive this year, remember?

So, I remember it is this; if you find yourself in the Jungle, don’t remain there. Walk through out of it. Be brave. You don’t have to remain there.

I think that on various aspects of our journey through life, or in finding our place in the world, or even when travelling inter-state, the ride might get a bit bumpy, it gets too hot in the car, and you wonder why you even bother.

Well, remember, there is a reason you started out on that journey in the first place. Keep it in mind when you are desperate, when you are discouraged, or frustrated. When it feels like it is taking waay too long.

There is always a way out of the jungle.

FINDING A NEW HOME

Well, I am at home now. In more ways than one (Ha-ha)

Getting some much needed rest. Writing to you.

What have you been up to? How does it feel inside your home, inside of your idea of home?

What are the ways you’ve been trying to find a semblance of the comfort of home where you are presently?

I’ll go first.

1) Recently, I’ve started watching a TV show that I’ve been following since 2019. This is the last season of The Marvelous Mrs Maisel. And it is odd that it is ending, but it feels so right oddly that it is ending now. In the same rainy season when I first discovered it with a friend.

2) I’ve been reminiscing on the great times I spent with friends, even when everything felt too tough and uncomfortable. Friends really are a gift, and I am pretty grateful to have them.

3) I am taking a short writing break for a few days, but look at me here, writing to you because I love it so much. It’s so great to have you all here. Really :]

4) Also, I WON A WRITING PRIZE. I came out as a category winner in the Welkin writing prize for flash fiction. How is this in any way related to feeling at home? Well, the piece was inspired by the historical migration of the Idanre people – and Idanre is my ancestral hometown, so I am especially fond of this story. You can read the piece here. It is titled Mountain Song.

Here's a snippet of the piece below.

A snippet of my winning story in the Welkin Writing Prize 2023. It is titled "Mountain Song"

And for all my writing friends, I always do a behind-the scenes of stories that get published. Let me know if you would love to see that!

As always, let me know in the comments what you think about all of the mumble and bumble about home that I have here.

And let me know what makes you feel the most at home no matter what. Even if it is the smell of a certain perfume, a game you play, a phone call. A story. A movie.

What is it? Share it with us on the blog.

Take care!