Description
It was a perplexing moment to think that our salvation lay in turning our backs on our homeland, in fleeing it with all our fear, hope, doubt, and certainty.
I recalled a saying by Kedani when despair once gripped him:
“The homeland is a white lie, propagated by some without guilt, and embraced by others without feeling deceived.”
Sudan drew closer, and Eritrea began to recede. Homelands are selfish; one only arrives when another departs.
I am certain that those running alongside me, as much as they yearn to escape their homeland, feel pain. As much as they cherish life outside it, they are terrified that it might one day die within them, or slip silently from between their ribs before they can tuck it away in the deepest recesses of their souls.
I am certain that these people leave Eritrea with disappointment etched on their foreheads, like the bells of Sunday churches, barely silent before announcing themselves anew. I am certain that the homeland, which has become so constricted for its people, has become vast with suffering.
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