Home Sweet Home

It's funny, but I find that whether I'm talking or writing in my journal, I avoid using the word "home" to describe the places I'm staying in Ghana. This isn't my home, and it doesn't feel like home at all, not even a temporary one. I feel like if I were to write that word down or say it alound, I might be stuck here forever.

I thought that this place would feel like home in a new way: it is, after all, the home of humanity. Many, many years ago, the first humans popped up on this continent. Africa, this ancient land, I thought, would feel like home. But still, I don't feel as though I've come home. I thought at least some part of me would feel peaceful and serene here. That in some corner of my mind, it would feel like coming back to where it all began. I am disappointed. At first, I was upset with myself, because I thought that I must have some mental block that wasn't allowing me to feel at home here. Now, I'm not so sure.