"My heart is Africa"

I read this book by Griffin quite a few years ago being given to me by the estate agent who sold us our house - for the commission he earned he could have sent me a book every month of the year for the next decade...

The story I don't recall so well anymore, but the title is one I hear myself saying quite often in conversations and my daily thoughts. I have dual citizenship but often wonder that if my body is here and my heart is there, then where am I? I have a fridge magnet that says: "If something is neither here nor there, then where the hell is it?". I feel like this sometimes. Like my house is here but my home is there.

When I think of Africa, I think of textures and colours. Vibrant, rough, woven and bright. Durable and resistant - to life and the weather. My life at present though is more like a piece of silk with no distinct colour at all. The one colour flowing into the next unnoticed. Smooth and light. When putting an outfit together one usually mixes several pieces to form the ensemble, but some elements just never quite go together. Like boots with an evening gown.

Life is good where I am right now. But is it great? I am well looked after and cared for. I feel safe and secure. This place offers me so much that I dare not complain for a moment.

But if I could have a moment to pause, what will I think of? The open plains, the smell of grass, the need and want of the people there, the smiles and sadness, and always the comfort of someone you know - and who knows YOU. Who recognise who you are and why, without explaining the how. A place you belong. Of not feeling as if you're standing on the outside looking in. Of being a part of the circle and not beyond.

Or will I , in that moment, only think of a world with little cares and compassion, where all is taken care of. The land of plenty and prosperity. Where comfort is a given and living is easy. Where the texture of life is mostly absent.

Life has a different meaning in Africa than for instance in the western world. Life on the African continent is harsh and is so precious since it is a gift that can be taken away at any moment.  It has to be lived to the fullest extent in every moment and appreciated on purpose. It's but one breath at a time. A place filled with contrasts and contradictions.

Africa is such a world away from here but in my mind I'm always there. Which makes me more absent here than I should be. I owe this place a piece of me too. I'm like a tree who refuses to grow roots in the place it is forced to grow and longs to be brought back to the land where it first sprung. But being replanted too many a time is not ideal and risks the chance of never growing again.

Should I go back, or stay? Can I stretch myself so as to have a foot in both places at the same time? Something's gotta give but I'm not sure yet what that will be...