TOURIST IN MY OWN TOWN.

I am currently visiting my home country- Zambia. Where I was born and raised before moving to the United States about 7 years ago. Coming home for the first time has been a bitter sweet situation. I find myself feeling like a tourist in my own town.  It was like coming home scarred. Everything was still the same, yet so different.

I found myself bitter a few times, asking myself “is this really where I come from?”. How could I not ridicule myself, when this is the place that first ridiculed me? How can I not have self doubt, when this is the place that didn’t think I could amount to anything? How could I not be hard on myself and miss the opportunities to celebrate small wins, when this is the place that made me feel like I wasn’t good enough?

All this anger and resentment started to dampen my mood, and I knew that I had to let go. I really did have to let go of the pain, hurt and disappointments. I couldn’t be caught crying over scars, long after the wounds had healed.

Yes this place may come with its cons, but let me tell you about its pros. This place is HOME. My battlefield, the crime scene, where it all begin. Lusaka gave me my survival instinct, it may not be perfect but it taught me the importance of togetherness. I care so deeply about others because of the sense of community this place has.

Family didn’t mean blood relation, it meant the next person. I remember neighbors feeding me and caring for me like their own. My community taught me to be respectful of others, take care of my elders, and dance like no one is watching. It is the land of my ancestors, A place where my roots and DNA are deeply embedded. 

It may seem like the place that first broke me, but perhaps it is the place that first put me together. I am Fatima. I am Zambian.

OUTFIT DEETS : Sold out (Forever21) but found a similar one here

Bag : Similar 

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