Dear Kuchalo Editor,
I write this letter not out of bitterness alone, but from lived experience across continents that many back home still romanticise.
Having spent years living and working in the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada, I feel compelled to share a truth that is often whispered among us in the diaspora but rarely stated openly: for all their development and opportunity, much of the Western world remains deeply uncomfortable—if not outright hostile—towards people who look like us.
When I first left Zambia in 1979, I carried the same dreams many young Africans do. I believed in meritocracy, in fairness, in the idea that hard work would be enough.
And while I cannot deny that opportunities exist, what I encountered beneath the surface was a persistent, exhausting undercurrent of exclusion.
It is in the job interviews where you are “almost good enough,” in the workplace where you must work twice as hard to be seen as equal, and in the subtle social cues that remind you that you will never quite belong.
In the United Kingdom, I felt the weight of history in everyday interactions. In North America, the racism is often more coded, hidden behind politeness, but no less real.
Whether it is being followed in shops, second-guessed in professional spaces, or constantly asked to explain your presence, the message is clear: you are tolerated, not embraced.
Over time, this wears you down. It chips away at your confidence and sense of identity. You begin to realize that no matter how long you stay, how well you speak, or how much you achieve, you remain an outsider in systems not built with you in mind.
It is only when I return home to Zambia that I feel a sense of ease I cannot replicate abroad. Here, I am not questioned for existing. Here, I do not have to shrink myself to fit into someone else’s comfort zone. There is dignity in being surrounded by people who see you fully, without suspicion or prejudice.
This is not to say Zambia is perfect. We have our own challenges—economic, social, and political. But what we have, which many of us take for granted, is a sense of belonging that no foreign passport can replace.
To my fellow Zambians dreaming of life abroad, I say this: go, explore, learn—but do not lose sight of home. Because in the end, the one place where you are truly seen, truly accepted, and truly free, is the place that made you.
Yours sincerely,
A Concerned Zambian in the Diaspora