I find myself walking down the familiar dusty street from my house. I kick a pebble or two just for the fun of it. I breathe in the familiar scent. Ahhhh....I am home. I am walking towards the bus stop. I can't help but smile with excitement and sheer anticipation to see my friends at the University of Zambia (UNZA), friends I have not seen in a really, really long time. The course of my brief trip is running through my mind...I can already see myself getting on the blue and white van we call mini-buses, going past Avondale extension, past pa chimtengo, past the Chelstone Police Post, past pa tank, NRDC, Munali, and we are finally approaching Marshlands. We don't have official names for bus stops, only popular landmarks such as "pa Unza"- referring to the university, "pa Northmead", "pa Arcades", etc. This is Zambia. This is home. I can already see the faces of my friends eagerly waiting my arrival. It's going to be a fantastic time catching up. The anticipation is getting the better of me and I'm now walking faster, anxious to get to the bus station. I hear someone call my name...it's a familiar voice I've heard before. It's a little boy I played football (soccer) with just yesterday. "Muli bwanji?" he asks, "bwino bwanji?" I respond to him. "Muli shani ba Oscar?" I hear another familiar voice ask, she is smiling at me. I smile back and respond that I'm doing pretty good. She then asks me about my family. I realize how much I've missed being greeted like that, not just a formality...she is actually interested in wanting to know how I have been since the last time we saw each other. I realize how much I missed seeing her smiling face...so much joy on her face and in her eyes. "How could she have so much joy when she has lost everything?" I ask myself. This is Zambia, my home...and oh, how I have missed it so. Only here can I see someone genuinely smile in the face of hopelessness, only here can I see someone have so much joy despite circumstances. Only here can I see people view themselves as being rich when they have nothing....It may be overly stereotypical of me, but in this moment, that's all I can think about. Tears start streaming down my eyes...how did I lose this part of me? I feel lost and I want to be found.
I'm at the dining room table and I look around, I see my all of my family sitting around the table...faces beaming. Tears again start streaming down my eyes, this time, tears of joy. I am so thankful to finally be with my family and about to partake in this meal together. There is so much joy and laughter, so much love in the room. It is so overwhelming. We are family. Together. Again. At long last. How I have waited so long for this moment, and I can hardly believe it's here. "If I could command time to pause for this brief moment"....Oh, how I wish that were possible. My thoughts are interrupted by my mum leaving the table to go and check on the meal she is preparing. She is cooking an extra special dish with Nshima, beans, kapenta, vegetables, and my favorite, Chikanda. The sweet and delicious aroma fills the room and my nostrils and makes my mouth water. I have missed my mum's cooking. The meals she prepares with so much love. I am home. My sisters help my mum bring dishes to the table. I'm dying to taste these delicacies. We hold hands and say grace. We wash our hands and prepare to eat. I have missed this simple act of washing hands and eating with my hands. I take the lids off the serving pots. Just as I am getting ready to take a bite, I open my eyes...it was just a dream. It was all just a dream. I start to cry. I have missed home so much and cannot wait to be back. Africa is in my blood, there is no escaping that. I dreamed of Africa, and I miss it so....
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