Going home

by Nabeelah Samuel (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Zambia

Approaching the gates to my mother's childhood in Mazabuka, Zambia, I felt overwhelmed with emotions. there was a sadness I couldn't explain, a joy I almost burst and a certain calm. This place I had never been, never even seen pictures of, only heard of it through stories of my grandmother and mother I couldn't help but feel attached to it. The home had been converted to a school for the underprivileged and the children were so happy and excited that people had come to visit them with gifts. This was somewhere id never been before but I felt I knew the place already. The headteacher let us in and took us on a small tour alongside my mum who hadn't been back for 20 years, also emotional reminiscing of her late father and sharing those memories. He had passed away before I was even born so being here, I felt closer to him like I could feel his spirit. My mum took us through to the dining room where she had the fondest memories of meal times with her 10 siblings and the chatter. We went through to the different bedroom, 4 in total. Once the tour was done the headteacher introduced us to the children and we gave them the few gifts we had picked up from the supermarket, footballs, tennis rackets, badminton, pencils and books. The gratitude they showed touched my heart, the smallest things we took for granted brought them such happiness. We stayed and played with the children for a while and spoke to them and my mother spoke in the native tongue which added to their surprise. Although we had been there a few hours we wished we could've stayed longer, we took pictures with the children and in front of the home, they kept holding onto me and hugging me with tears in their eyes not wanting me to leave. I broke down as I didn't want to leave, I left a piece of myself there, I felt close to my grandfather, the children felt like siblings, it felt like home. It was home.