Home… I always dreamt of it, felt it even though I had a faint memory of it. In my dreams, home always smelt like coffee and fresh bread. I only had my dreams to console me and give me hope for home was far away. I had been carted away to another man’s land at the age of four, according to the most reliable source of information I was able to get. I never got used to the foreigner’s land, his ways and his food. Something just didn’t seem right. There was always this feeling that something was missing.
I was already fifteen and old enough to know wrong from right. I was also old enough to know that the life I was living wasn’t worth anything; a life without freedom was not satisfying. Another consolation that helped was the presence of some of my countrymen in the foreign land. It helped because the older ones reminded us of what home was and what it stood for.
Every single day, I always prayed to God for my freedom from the foreign man. I was seriously getting tired even though he treated me nicely but I knew I would never be treated with the respect I deserved. It was very clear that I was no son or should I say daughter of the soil.
So it was that God heard my prayers and sent answers to them in the form of the foreigner’s daughter. She arrived from school a fine and intellectually upgraded young lady. While she was around, I fell sick. The doctors couldn’t detect any stranger in my body but the young mistress, kind as she was, knew that I was longing for something special. She asked me and I told her what I really wanted. Somehow, she convinced her father to give me my freedom. Happily, I packed the few things I could really call my own and set out home.
As I approached home, I wondered if it would really be like what I imagined all these years. I was not disappointed at all when I got home; it was much more beautiful than I imagined. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I took in the view. I saw green fields, little children running barefooted, mothers warning the little ones to tread carefully and fathers going about their businesses. Finally, I had made it home and guess what? Home still smelt like coffee and fresh bread.