The Zimbabwe Independent

I have fallen in love with my people and my country, again

- Mufaro Nottingham, UK

„ It’s early morning in a suburb of Harare. I’m sitting on an open veranda writing this. The rain is falling gently playing a rhapsody on the corrugated roof. A sweet gentle and kooky song. The air is clean and crisp, almost sweet if you like. The rain fell last night as well and I had the best sleep ever.

Everything I see is bathed is a deep green hue. The ground smells of all things good, a promise of life. A pair of overly friendly canines plays at my feet. I’m surrounded by gorgeous round smiling faces of family and friends. In a nutshell life should be pretty sweet right about now.

Here is the rub though; it’s not. I feel a deep melancholy like a haunted Shakespear­ean character. What’s up Dude, you may ask? Why so sad?

The thing is I have to say goodbye to all this soon. All this beauty, happiness, and sooner than I’d like. Sooner than should be allowed if it were up to me. But it’s not up to me. That’s the bummer. Why do I have to leave? Well, the thing is I have to get back “home”. Get back to my life.

It’s best I clear up the confusion now. I’m a Zimbabwean living abroad. Right now, I’m in Zimbabwe but soon I’ll leave like many other Diasporans have done in recent weeks. Travelling back to their lives and loves in foreign lands. Leaving behind brief moments of lives gloriously lived. The holiday season has always called Diasporans around the world back home. A chance at a respite from whatever land chance has settled them in.

It’s no different for me.

“But Dude, so what if you’re a Diasporan?” some of you are asking. “Pish!” you might even exclaim! “You guys are a dime and a dozen round here. Why should we care? Besides you guys all tell us the same story.”

Maybe there’s a truth to that and maybe not. I’d like to think each life is a journey, a story of Zimbabwe itself. Where we’ve been and are going. In that spirit let me tell you a bit about myself. I was born at St. Mary’s Clinic in Chitungwiz­a sometime in the 1980s. A born-free if you like. I did all my schooling here till the age of 16. I left for Britain soon after my O’level exams sometime around 2000. I’ve been living in Britain since; where I’m an award-winning writer. That’s enough about my past. We’ll get to know each other better soon.

So, what am I trying to get at with this piece? Some of you clever sleuths out there might have already noticed that I referred to going back to Britain as going home. What a contradict­ion in thought, right? On the back of me gushing about being here in Zimbabwe. This is home, right? I was born here so what am I talking about?

I’ve lived half my life here and the other in Britain. I have family and friends here as in Britain. I have a life there, a routine and, dare may I say it, a sense of purpose and belonging. I suspect I’m not singular in my conflict nor is my case that extreme.

There are over 4 million Zimbabwean­s living abroad. The current population of Zimbabwe stands at around 14 million. Figures like this serve to illustrate how huge and significan­t the diaspora is. Many Zimbabwean­s have had to move abroad for a number of reasons. Be it seeking sanctuary or better life opportunit­ies; but home is home.

I’ve been here since last month and before that I hadn’t been back for several years. The last time I was home was for my grandmothe­r’s funeral. A sweet old girl that brought me up and taught me the world. In the intervenin­g years I have ummed and aahed about coming back. What held me back from returning for so long? The truth is I don’t know. Fear may be? Fear of the past, fear of not belonging anymore. Maybe this subject is for another day. Anyway, I shouldn’t have worried.

As I say goodbye to the sun, rain, the green, people, the pot-marked roads, masked up policemen, sashaying sweet girls, the intransige­nt store clerk who won’t give me my change, rows of maize planted in and among the boulevards of Harare. I’ve realised something. Something profound and full of melancholy. I have fallen in love again. Fallen in love with the people and the country. With my past, who I was and am.

So, it’s a goodbye from me to many things but also a hello to you my fellow Zimbabwean­s. Let’s talk here. I hope to write more from my sanctuary about my journey of a rediscover­ed love.

 ??  ?? The holiday season has always called Diasporans around the world back home.
The holiday season has always called Diasporans around the world back home.
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