Those words seemed to be the green light I never knew I needed to release tears I never knew I had.
Maybe it was the view of the azure ocean below me. Maybe it was the tender feel of my sister's hand on mine. Maybe it was the complete silence and sense of awe in the air of the cabin.
I was home. Finally home.
As I stepped down the airplane, I tried hard to conceal these tears that fell without my consent.
Quite embarrassed I listened to my sister telling those who noticed that it was my first time in Somalia. Everyone seemed to have an understanding smile, almost a recognition of respect because I choose to make this journey.
One thing you immediately notice once you step out of the plane is the warm, moist air. I swear it almost felt as if I was being embraced by Mogadishu. I would like to think I was.
Once home, I was welcomed by new faces that I now consider my family. When I say that Mogadishu felt like home I mean that in every sense imaginable. Nothing felt foreign, odd or new. The sense of belonging I felt during my stay is almost painful in comparison to how I feel now back in Nairobi. I was really home.
I am in the process of letting everything sink in. I honestly did not expect to get attached to Mogadishu the way I did. I'm still trying to comprehend the personal significance of this journey.
But at least now I can say: I was there.
