I long for home.
A friend and I were talking recently about this sense of “home” and what it means to have a place of origin to which you can return when you need to be reminded of who you are - to feel safe and rooted. Both of us grew up in single parent households and while that does not always mean a difficult upbringing; we feel similarly disconnected, as adults, to where we grew up.
My own childhood, though happy for the most part, was shrouded with the separation of my parents and the sense of unsettlement that ensued for my mother and siblings. We went from living in relative affluence to a place where we were, let’s just say, not quite as financially care-free. But even this social setback is not the reason I attribute to this sense of “home” being missing from my life.
My mother is not from this country. She is a proud Nigerian with rich ancestry from parents who held high positions of authority in their village.
My mother is not from this country. She is a proud Nigerian with rich ancestry from parents who held high positions of authority in their village. My grandmother was sent to the UK to attend finishing school and to learn the customs of the English, sadly seen to be more significant than local customs at the time. My grandfather, a chief, was an esteemed newspaper editor (thanks to him for the excellent genes) and they regularly welcomed rulers and ambassadors into their home. My mother was sent to boarding school from a young age and in keeping with the intellectual excellence which is the aim of most Nigerians, received a high standard of education which led to her landing a role with the UK Government when she joined my father and her then husband here in the 1980s.
Away from the safety and security of her family and into a hostile land where black people were seen and treated as second-class citizens, my mother had to not only quickly assimilate herself, but as her three children arrived, help them to be fully immersed too. The European and English au pairs and nannies we were sent off to, were partly to make up for the lack of house help that would be a natural and integral part of the household in Nigeria – and also seen as a quick way to make us feel fully British.
[I] became familiar with what it meant to be British first and black second
It worked, in a way. I loved our “help” and surrounded by white people at home, at church and at school, became familiar with what it meant to be British first and black second. At home I ate a mix of African and western foods but I learned that there’s a way to behave under the iron rod of my Nigerian mother and that the rules were more relaxed in the outside world. I learned to be a chameleon and, as an adult, can fit into almost any environment without much issue.
But home? No, I don’t know where that is. For various reasons, I have never been to Nigeria, and while I may – as my mother reminds me – have been conceived there, most of my family is based away from my place of ancestry and hence; disconnect.
The house I grew up in is not my home. I don’t go back there for Christmas, I didn’t pack up my apartment and take refuge there during the Pandemic and I wasn’t able to be looked after there while I was sick during cancer treatment. These are hard things to write because it is the result of a fractured family and reflects my ongoing desire to create home wherever I live.
Speaking with my friend, she noted that many people she knows, will still see their childhood home as “home”, even while they may have their own homes with spouses and children. But for some of us, we stay chasing the elusive place which represents a space of safety and belonging.
In an upcoming article for Woman Alive, the magazine I edit, well-respected theologian Elaine Storkey wrote this: Ultimately, being ‘at home’ is to be who we are. For believers, it is to know our identity and rootedness in Christ and receive God’s love. And when the Holy Spirit takes up home in our lives, we become ever more able to reach out with the love and hospitality which makes us home for other people.
Where do you call home?
Tola x
I’m the editor and creative director at Premier Woman Alive and co-host of the YouTube show Sisterhood. In 2019, I delivered a TEDx Talk on Debunking the Myth of Success and my first book, 'Still Standing:100 Lessons From An 'Unsuccessful' Life' (SPCK) is out now.