The loud laughter of uMakazi (my Aunt); uMama screaming at me for leaving dirty dishes on the sink; my sister, Khanyi’s never-ending words of encouragement; my big brother’s never-ending hustle for a better life and my seven year-old nephew, Abenathi’s hilarious stories about his friends. I even miss 3 year-old Amyoli’s gorgeous face (she’s sort of an adopted member of our family). I miss these things from these unique people and most importantly I miss these people. Even four years after his passing, I still miss the football conversations I had with my dad.
First year syndrome is what varsity students call it (Being home-sick while at varsity). But i don’t believe I have it. I’ve been a first year student before. I’ve met awesome human beings that I shared everlasting memories with; people I still have relations with. Is it the people I’ve met here? Or is it me?
I think it’s a combination of both. I’m not sure whether by intention or not, I don’t think the Yolanda I presented to them from the word go was the true Yolanda. Now since I’ve met them their expectations of how I’ll be like remains constant., and now I’m stuck having to keep up appearances everyday. Drowning in a persona and character that never existed before 2015. Was it to fit in? Was it for acceptance? Or was it for the gaining of “someone’s” attention? Either way, I’m fed up with where my life is right now.
I’ve been depressed since Sunday, after having a ball the night before. Since then, the bible has been my only preffered solace and friend. It seems to be the only connection I have to home. That common ground my family shared with a passion. The value instilled in us from infancy. I miss looking at someone and hearing a voice within me saying: “I truly love you. And I cannot imagine life without you.”
Since being here I haven’t spent a single day with someone who enjoyed my company; they just enjoy my humour… or lack there of. ever chased after someone chasing someone else? Well I am. Or I should say, I was. And now I’ve just realised I’ve been somewhat of a “consolation prize” for something (someone) they can’t get full attention of.
I don’t regret meeting the people I’ve met here. I just regret the manner in which they know me in – the persona they think is Yolanda.
I can almost smell that pleasant aroma of my mom’s home-made bread. God knows I miss home. Coz here, I do not belong!
‘Till Next Time Peeps, STAY GOODEST!