Waking up to a 5 am alarm meant something to me: a new
day and in a few hours, a new location. I had been here for years. Used to
the squeals of little children in the
playground just by my window, used to the slap of piercing cold on a winter
morning and used to the sound of the
tubes which announce your destination with a little advice to pay attention to
the gap between the platform and the door.
The reality of returning to my home country did not sink in
till I found myself wake up to the squeal of the peacock in my compound, the
dry Harmattan wind and the sound of the drivers talking loudly about a certain
night.
Even if I have been here for a while, it still feels like
yesterday when I flip through pictures of the past, sometimes hoping to return
as soon as possible because I miss a particular place and the memories it
brings.
It’s usually hard to go back to a more tasking way of life
when one has tasted the life of living abroad. One thinks of the luxuries that
were enjoyed as a result of a good system, transport, electricity and
especially all kinds of shopping!
But at the same time, returning home has made me see this
country in a new light. There are so many things we can achieve here, a system
waiting to be built with so many opportunities to build them. Knowledge waiting
to be imparted on those who ache to learn what we know but have no means to do
so, a splurge of ideas waiting to be shared and a multitude of chances waiting
to be taken.
I believe that the countries we move to are like that for a
reason; people took chances, they sweated, they worked hard, they achieved the
achievable, took advantage of opportunities and taught others to do the same.
If most of the people decided to move out, we wouldn't be going there…
So I've decided to stay, to help in my little way and
hope to see the results it brings
This is my country, if I don’t help, who will?
