Dear Editor,
I left Zambia in the year 2000 with a head full of dreams after graduating from CBU, and the belief that I would return after only a few years.
Yet here I am, more than two decades later, writing to you from the United Kingdom, wondering how time managed to run faster than I ever imagined.
Life in the UK moves at a relentless pace. The days begin before sunrise and often end long after dark. People rush everywhere — to work, to meetings, to catch trains, to meet deadlines.
In such a society, years can disappear like weeks. Sometimes I look at the calendar in disbelief. The young man who boarded that plane from Lusaka is now grey at the temples and raising children who know Zambia mostly through stories, music, and the smell of nshima cooking in our kitchen.
There are opportunities here, yes. I have worked hard, sometimes doing jobs I never thought I would do back home.
Many of us in the diaspora know what it means to labour quietly, to sacrifice comfort, and to send money home while denying ourselves small luxuries. We do it gladly because family remains family, no matter the distance.
But there is another side people rarely speak of — loneliness. In Zambia, life had warmth. Neighbours greeted one another. Relatives dropped by unannounced.
There was laughter in the yard, children playing in the dust, and the comfort of belonging. Here, many people live behind closed doors. You can stay in the same street for years and barely know who lives next to you. The silence can be heavy.
I also miss our culture in ways words struggle to explain. I miss the sound of local languages in the market, the smell of roasted maize by the roadside, the easy humour of Zambians, and the joy of family gatherings where everyone talks at once. I miss the rain season, the taste of fresh kapenta, and the sense that no matter your problems, someone will ask, “Muli shani?”
Yet living abroad has taught me resilience. I have met people from every corner of the world, learned new customs, and gained respect for diversity. It has broadened my mind while deepening my love for home.
Though I left Zambia in 2000, Zambia has never left me. Home is not only a place; it is memory, language, family, and identity. Time may have moved fast, but my heart still keeps Zambian time.
Yours faithfully,
Chanda Musonda
Surrey UK
