My dearest home sweet home. It has been 17 years away from home. That’s quite a long time apart. I honestly never thought I’ll beI’d still be searching for my identity. The; the final place I can call home. Not the homes Tanzania, Burundi, India, London, South Africa, Yemen and New Zealand that waswere meant to be my home. But from day one, I never once called these places home. These places were just an illusion that my heart surroundssurrounded in lies beerand bore witness to such deception. Such a beautiful lie told to my mind. I guess I never fully grasped the concept of leaving because of the idea that hiding and being silent is the safest option to take, in a country where you don’t fit into society. Maybe it’s because I’m distant by faith that skinsskims the papers to define. Or maybe it was because I never fully paid attention to the silence of my identity changing in a new home.

I was amongst the 440,000 people who immigrated from Africa, in the time period of 2000 – 2005. The massive total of 17 million migrants within Africa in 2005. This is because there’sThere’s a variety of reasons why many people will leave their homehomes.