I’ve been thinking a lot recently (wow, I can think? That’s impressive!) about where I come from, and I’m not going to explain my deep inner thoughts because that in itself will be a challenge, so I’ll try my best to summarize.
I am half English and half South African. I was born in Johannesburg, therefore whenever I go to South Africa I consider it to be my home. But at the same time, my house in England is also home. So I can take that as a good thing, because I have two places where I feel comfortable and where I have a family.
However, I also used to live in Cardiff, and I lived there for 7 or 8 years, so obviously that is also somewhere that I considered home for a long time. We moved to the UK when I was 18 months old, so I don’t really remember a childhood anywhere other than that in Cardiff… so this is where it gets all confusing.
I guess the place you call “home” is where your family is. It’s where you’ll go for support and it’s somewhere you’re familiar with. Home is somewhere you know you’ll always be welcome. I wouldn’t just go to Cardiff if I was worried about something, because although I am still in touch with a few very good friends there, it’s not the right place for me anymore. When I go to University, and then venture off into the big wide world, I’ll consider home to be here, in Devon. (Unless of course my parents decide to move to Argentina to become goat farmers… but I don’t see that happening anytime soon…)
When people ask me where I’m from or something of that nature, I’ll say I’m from England (if that person asking the question isn’t from England). But if I meet someone new, then I’ll tell them I’m half English and half South African because I think that keeping your true identity is a really important thing to have, and to be proud of.
In other news, my aunt has gone to visit The White House for a work related thing, so I’m going to sit and cry among my revision notes and wish that I had money to travel around the world.