What is home?

I have been pondering about it for quite some time now.

When I first came to Singapore back in 2005, truth to be told, I didn’t plan to stay here this long. My plan was: finish college, finish the bond, and then… go somewhere else. Maybe going back to Jakarta, maybe to another country – who knows?

Well, a plan is a plan. I ended up staying for 10 years and Singapore was soon becoming a place so familiar and dear to my heart.

But will I call it a home?

Sure, it’s a place where I practically grew up from my teen self to an adult (hah). It’s a place where my boys were born. It’s a place where I feel the most comfortable with so far.

But how about Jakarta? The city where I spent the first 18 years of my life. The city where I met my husband. The city that never fails to make me longing for its food and its memories. The city where I met my best friends and importantly, the city where my parents are staying.

Doesn’t feel right either.

I guess that’s true what people say about being a diaspora.


here you are

too foreign for home

too foreign for here

never enough for both

‘Diaspora Blues’ by Ijeoma Umebinyuo

I am only counting days until I am moving to Berlin. Can I call it home later?

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