I'm Going Home

I woke up this morning with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. You know the mixture that brings on nausea. I used to get this feeling around my birthday every year until I was about 10 years old. I was always too ill to enjoy my birthday parties. After a while, my parents stopped having them. No one wants to watch their child wretch while other people's children are eating the expensive birthday meal you've prepared.
It's funny. I was born in England. I have spent more time outside of Sierra Leone than inside, I have only ever carried a British passport (until recently) but I'm going around telling everyone that I'm going home. People understand me. Before I explain, they know what I'm talking about. After all they can see Sierra Leone inside and out.
I am talking about going back to Sierra Leone. And everyone seems to understand why I have chosen now to go back to a Sierra Leone without electricity and water and roads and hi-speed broadband and Sky TV and NHS and Tetley tea and Jones the Bootmaker and MAC and so much more. But yes, I have decided to go home.
So I'm packing my possessions and I'm buying more. Where am I going to put them all? I don't know. In eight days I will be on a flight to Sweet Salone. But I'm going to miss organic broccoli.