“I left my heart in Zimbabwe…”

It was 7:00 pm on a Wednesday evening and I was sitting on the train having one of my usual contemplative moments. I was really exhausted because I had spent the whole day discussing the economy with the white collars of Toronto. Hence, it didn’t take long for me to fall into a little fatigue hallucination.

I began to see myself as a little boy in Zimbabwe once again, running free-spiritedly under the hypnosis of scintillating wildflower scents. I could even see the sunset beautifying the heavens with its aura, creating a blanket of vibrant colors that were unfortunately going to be devoured by the evening darkness.

“Maruva, Maruva, come back home!” a voice echoed in the distance. It was my grandmother. I quickly dashed home and was greeted by the mesmerizing aroma of the food she had prepared for us.

(God I miss her…)

Unfortunately, my moment of reminiscence was short-lived because the sirens of the train started to wail endlessly, as if to announce that the world had finally reached the 11th hour. I then walked out of the train feeling extremely depressed because it dawned to me that I really miss my country.

I understand that Zimbabwe is in the middle of political turmoil but I still find myself yearning to go back. I have a feeling doing that will help me  piece myself together. That perhaps instead of being a fragmented mosaic, I will become a unified person with a solid identity. But then leaving Canada means that  I am essentially quitting my search for the North Star of success.

So once again, I am drowning in my own thoughts and I do not know which one of them to embrace.

(Sigh…)