nyasha tsimba

Coming home

Saum's tight grip had left an imprint on on her black leather book. The once shining, and firm black exterior had born the brunt of many years of crying and nostalgia as Saum sought comfort in it's contents during the 6 years she spent training and working as a nurse in London's grey haze. Now, the greying, wrinkled book cover was bearing the brunt of weeks of excitement. Saum was standing in an immigration line at Salisbury airport. She could hear the cheers, and ululating of relatives reuniting for the first time in a decade. No-one would be waiting for her outside the doors, she didn't have enough to write to her relatives to let them know of her unexpected return. They wouldn't be expecting her for another 4 years, when she finally attained permanent residency and could leave the UK without the concern of not being approved a visa to return.