Over the years I have had to redefine “home”, Each time I find myself in a new place, uncertain of what that place would bring and regardless of whether or not I am familiar with the people there I have sought ways to make these new spaces home. For the first time since the start of this road trip, I was in a space that was actually Home. This time, home meant I didn’t have to introduce myself to people,home meant familiar places, people, language, culture. Home was Home. Even though I hadn’t been to this home in over 12 years, this home still had a familiar tinge.
This home is….
a place where feet movements, in the town square are familiar.
a place where stories exist even though protected by cemented walls
a place where I used to lay my sick head to rest in-between the comfort of my loving parents
a place where even though things seem to fall apart, there exists a strong foundation of people to fall back on
a place where food is
a place where 10 year old Harry (4th from the left) can decide to make a difference and start an after school lessons for his peers
a place where even strangers are welcomed to listen to the stories of the city.
a place called Nembe city in Bayelsa where I am from.