Home

A simple monosyllabic word, yet its definitions are inexhaustible. Over the centuries that word has evoked in man a sense of security, longing, wistfulness, and contentment.

In Kenyan culture, when one says "I'm going home," this normally implies a visit to the place of one's birth, or more recently, with 21st century urbanization, Nairobians view it as going to the place of their parents' birth. For this generation of city-slickers, the traditional concept of a rural upcountry 'home' is foggy and vague at best. To them it's a quaint place they visit perhaps once a year for the holidays. Indeed, this MTV generation of 'Barbies' and Play station- addicts can barely communicate with their grandparents and rural cousins, let alone relate to them.

As for Kenyan expats in other lands, "Home" evokes much more pleasant and idealistic connotations. To many who have lived abroad for several years, "Home" carries blissful thoughts of teenage life in idyll surroundings. They didn't have much, as many would say, but those were simple days, playing Shake and football in the estate, eating Creamy Toffees and Goody-Goodies, drinking Tree Top and Mirinda. Playing Kati, Bladda and Tapo; making your own toys out of hangers and Kimbo tins. The music from back then becomes part and parcel of the nostalgic, happy memories of bygone days.

They know that it is impossible to recreate this snapshot in time - Having been gone for so long, they sometimes feel completely out of touch. "Nairobi has changed so much," they remark, in their cosmopolitan accents. If and when they do come to visit, they realize that it is a place which moved on once they departed. The vacuum they left gradually closed up, and life rolled on.

A plus Kenyans have as a culture, is that they tend to be very resilient and adaptable. So when they emigrate they often assimilate and blend in quickly with their adopted nationality. Yet in spite of their remarkable success in making their new land, 'home,' deep down, they somehow know it is not. That dissonance, or limbo, comes with the privilege of being "a child of two worlds." You never quite fit into either one, although ultimately your former culture gradually fades into the background, as life in the here and now becomes your only reality.

Having lived in the West for five years, my emotions were similar to those of the thousands of Kenyans in the diaspora. Mixed feelings about your identity, your place - your Home. Homesickness is a very real phenomenon - just ask any expatriate or refugee. I spoke to numerous immigrants from around the world. From them I gleaned a valuable lesson about the true definition of home:

I learned that ultimately, home relates to a certain someone, not necessarily someplace. A wise elder put it eloquently,

"Home is where you are most comfortable."

He was not referring to creature comforts of a material nature, but rather, emotional comfort. The essence of Home is to be found in Friends, family, or even just one solitary loved one who truly 'gets' you and makes you feel like you belong with them. Home need not be a literal place - It can be a metaphysical state of being with the one(s) you love. Wherever they are, is comfortable. Wherever they are is home.
Home is being with that person, whether a parent, spouse, uncle, grandmother, fiancé, child...being with the one who truly understands and loves you. With him or her you can travel the world, pack up in a day and not look back, because with them you are always Home.