I am from the land of tea, biscuits and the Queen.
Bright city lights and mossy fields.
I am from gossiping schoolgirls,
Giggling at text messages on our shiny flip-phone screens.
I am from the inevitable chills up my spine that damp weather brings,
No matter how many layers my mother piles on me.

I am from the rowdy bus rides to school,
Students chattering while green farms stream by the windows.
The sickly sweet smell of diesel
Circulating through the cumbersome vehicle,
That creaks, grudgingly fulfilling its duty.

I am from wondering about the day,
Alongside the slow-rising sun.

I am from the ancient sunlight in the voice of my Grandmother; there is always an occasion call.
Her smooth voice rolling through nations and oceans to find its way to my expecting ears.
No errand too important to forget to say “I love you”

I am from a nation of tribal beats
Pounded yam and familiar faces.
Lessons taught about life still ringing in my ears.
I am from the natural rhythm of my ancestors
The earth shaking,
While the sky fills with their hopes and dreams.

I am from finding myself in moments, new experiences and situations
Being the ‘new girl’ over and over again
I am from the last note of a saxophone lingering in the air.
Still asking to be heard.