A FRIEND of mine returned from Australia to visit last December. It had been 10 years since we had last seen him. It was evident he was so home sick because he knelt and kissed the tarmac at the airport. I thought only the Pope did those things.

A flood of emotions came over him not just because of the sheer passage of time, but rather the reality that we were still alive. Whilst time had sure taken its toll on the oldest of the reception party, the younger among us looked, well, healthy. He expected the worst.

Time never stands still. He discovered that so many of the people he knew back then had passed on. It hit him like a truck. In fact, they say at home when a person you knew suddenly drops out of the social radar, the likelihood is that he or she is late. You only discover when you read the memorials in the classified section of The Chronicle.

As we showed him around Bulawayo he remarked at how the city had degenerated. Yet, not as much as he was made to believe. He was surprised at the peace that prevailed which was contrary to the image that was painted abroad.

His workmates down under were constantly calling him to find out if his head was still on his shoulders. The impression was that the moment you land back home, there are people waiting to chase you or even throw you in jail!

This might sound a bit farfetched to you, but that is exactly what some of our relatives overseas, especially the ingenuous ones                  believe to be true.

Which then leads to the assertion that distance makes the mind grow foggier?

Why are our diasporans (not all of them) so out of touch with what is happening back home? Is it that they choose to believe what they are fed for lack of more reliable sources of information?

We have discovered that contrary to popular belief, not so many have access to online sources.

They rely on the precious few minutes on the phone with relatives who would pick and choose what to tell them. They are tempted to paint a picture of desperation for obvious reasons.

Those valuable pounds and dollars keep coming through Western Union to keep body and soul together. A very fertile grapevine or pavement radio through a wily system of gossip feed our own fake news network.

Social media and cheaper ways of face to face communication like Skype and WhatsApp video are filling that gap.

The new radio stations both local and foreign can be accessed online. The opportunity for diasporans to get the correct picture are immense. This is the age of fact checking. Getting it right is now a matter of choice and degree of exposure.

This is also the age of citizen journalism. Anyone with a smartphone can relay news at the speed of light. Facebook has a Live option that can enable anyone and their grandmother to relay events on demand. Media as we know it has been well and truly disrupted.

Getting the correct information is a matter of choice. It all depends on one’s intentions. There are those who would go out of their way to justify why they would like to remain overseas.

Then there are those who despite, all the bad, they see a bright future back home. They use any opportunity to come visiting and recharge their batteries.

It’s expensive yes, but my friend says that coming home allowed him to readjust his compass.

The most difficult part for him is watching his kids grow up in a “foreign” country. They will be strangers when he brings them to the country of his birth.

But he will bring them anyway to the place of their roots.

Take it from me, they will love it. They can never be “strangers.” Kusekhayalapha, even if they struggle with the languages. There is something inside that assures them that they belong. When they go back to the “brighter lights,” they will never be the same.

 

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