Oh Ireland, I miss the feeling of belonging, the ease of just being me.
I easily identify myself as Irish wherever I am; it's a huge part of how I am perceived by my friends and colleagues in Africa. But my Irish identity creates a certain distance between myself and my African family, friends and colleagues. For example, any input on politics or current affairs is always interpreted as that of a foreigner. In many ways I am still treated like a tourist, even after 31 years here.
I have now lived abroad longer than I lived in Ireland. But my sense of being Irish has never left me. As soon as I land in Dublin, I feel whole I am sure and confident of whom I am, unafraid to speak and have opinions about current issues. It’s like breathing with ease instead of with control, of being off guard instead of on guard in conversation.
The moments I look forward to while planning my trip home are many: the final approach to Dublin Airport, the greenness of the land we fly over, the search for beloved family faces on arrival, catching up on all the news.
The things I miss? The smell and taste of Bewley’s coffee in Grafton street, Kerrygold butter on Irish soda bread and a whole pot of tea, Cadbury’s chocolate, Icebergers, Milky Mints, iced caramels… I could go on and on… Batch bread, the friendliness of people, especially in countryside shops and pubs, genuine interest in who you are and where that funny accent comes from.
I have three children, all born in South Africa, two now living in Ireland. The third is still at school in Cape Town, but he has plans to head to Ireland as soon as he can. I have always made sure my kids had strong connections to my home and family, returning every year at least once.
My father and siblings did everything they could to ensure they had the best of Irish times, and it left its mark. It’s the place they have always wanted to return to, the place of their childhood dreams.
To move there as adults was not an easy transition. They had to get used to long dark winters and the cold and rain, but now they are more Irish than me. I hear their accents changing, the Irish expressions flowing, and it makes me proud.
Will I return to live? Most definitely not. I couldn’t afford to live in Ireland. I could never own my own home, or maintain my current lifestyle. I have a home in Africa, with everything a home represents, memories of my children growing up there, familiar sites and close friends.
I have Irish friends in Cape Town and Congo, and I never laugh as hard or as easily as I do when I spend time with them. Working in rural Congo gives me opportunity to go deep into the rainforests, work with rural communities still living traditional lives and see wild animals roam freely. My diet is goat on a homemade spit instead of lamb, cassava leaves called saka saka instead of spinach, and fresh river fish cooked in palm leaves instead of river salmon.
I bathe in rivers and streams that find their way to the mighty Congo river, and its magical might has opened my soul and has a space all to itself.
So as much as my heart is in Ireland, Africa is in my blood. I love my adopted home, but that is always what it will be and I am not complaining. I am a happy Irish citizen living and working abroad, thankful for the opportunity to come home for a visit whenever I can.
The Irish Times invited readers abroad to submit reflections on their relationship with the land they left. This story is one we received. To read more, click here. The Irish Times 'Ireland and Me' eBook is available for download here.
