Life away from my African home

I remember when we were kids someone getting on the plane to go abroad was such a big deal, a milestone. It didn't matter what they went to do out there. Tour, work, study. The fact that they were going 'outside countries' was huge. The whole family went to the airport to see them off. They would later send pictures in the heaps of snow (yes, the snow looks really cool when you're from a tropical country), strolling clean streets, shopping in glamorous malls, eating 'exotic' foods. This left us longing for the experience even more. It was just like we watched it in the movies.  Life must be so great out there, they sure never yearn to get back home, or even miss it at all, we believed.
When they returned, they almost smelt and looked different from just living abroad. We looked foward to the stories and foreign goodies. It was all so dreamy and still is for many people.

Fast forward, I am now that friend or relative from overseas. When I go back home, I want to explain to my people that those movies had us fooled, haha. It's not all so cute like we pictured it when you actually live out here. Forget a few days of tour and travel. Those are sure exciting. I cannot forget my first visits overseas. Memories were made.
But I want to tell my people that the exotic cuisine gets old. We crave for that local African food we cared so little about. Walking the clean, organised streets can be lonely with no familiar faces,  everyone in a rush and minding their own business. No one has time for small talk. You don't have relatives in every street corner ready to have your back any time you need a shoulder to cry on. You don't go around dropping at friends and relatives doorsteps unannounced just because you feel like a good laugh or a free meal. Someone the other day told me about a friend who has to make an appointment to see her parents who live in the same city. Talk about cultural differences.

Don't get me wrong, I love my life here. I live in Milan, a metropolitan city that resonates perfectly with my personality. The more of Italy I see, the more I fall in love with it. I feel like a tourist everyday. Learning the language and being able to communicate easily immerses me even deeper into the country. Italians are also very vibrant people, there's never a dull moment.
Coming from a third world country, there's definately a lot to enjoy and get used to in the developed world. Good infrastructure, advanced health care, advanced transort system, accessibility to many of the products we pay an arm and a leg for back home and this is great.

Europe is my home now. With my Italian family and children here, I have a special attachment to it. But when I go back to my other home, my birth home, what I often call my 'real' home, Uganda, it's a breath of fresh air. You know that feeling you get when you have a very cold drink after a long hot day? It's the kind of refreshment I get when I am in Uganda. When I dig into my african cuisine, dance to my local jams with company that understands and enjoys them as much as I do. And, oh the weather!

Interesting enough, after a few weeks of visiting, I start to miss my European home. I complain about this and that. I grumble about the things I could have done much easier if I were in Europe. I seem to notice the things that need to be improved more than the people who have to live with them everyday. I even lament about the scorching tropical sun on a really hot day and miss the European spring and autumn. Then when I am back to Italy, I get terribly homesick and feel like I need to go back where I belong. It's a vicious circle.

It's safe to say I just want the best of both worlds. If there was a way I could piece together my two homes, life would be perfect. But there is no such things as perfect, right?

LT