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I found out this morning that I have been successfully elected to the New Zealand Medical Association's new First-year doctor position on their Doctors-in-training council. As a treat to myself (because I am a firm believer in celebrating the small things in life) I went to Ngala lodge (the cliff-side restaurant that as quickly become my second home these past few weeks) for a 'proper' coffee and chocolate croissant. The five minute walk was beautiful -- vultures, sunrise, and the most glorious breeze.

As I sat having my coffee, being romanced by the breeze and the living, breathing painting of the Atlantic before me, I came to the realisation that I have begun to fall in love with your Mama Africa. I texted you as much, asking whether that was a very 'European' thing to say (because, according to your logic, being a Westerner makes me 'European' by proxy). And you replied, 'It's very European cos if you're African you'd have said I love my Mama Africa.'

And I laughed.

No matter how much I get rooted, She will never be my Mama Africa. But I am fine with that. I am a nomad. I belong to no Nation, no Culture, no Peoples. My heart is scattered all over the world, with the people who have claimed pieces of my heart these past twenty three years. And now, that includes this most beautiful land -- your Mama Africa.

I see my life back Home as a means to gain a tangible skill. You think I will forget. You think I will go home and, with the distractions of Life, let it slip through my fingers, like many who have come and gone before me. Please, continue to think that, I ask of you, because it makes me passionate and excited about proving you wrong.

I am ready to go Home and work hard. I am ready to start this next phase of my life, enthused and encouraged by what I can give to your Mama Africa in two, five, ten, twenty years from now. Heart to soul. Hand to God. The God you fight, yet can't seem to escape. I am happy to prove you wrong. En sha la.