What Is Africa to Me?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about home. Not just a place, but a feeling.

For me, that feeling is Africa.

Specifically, Lagos, Nigeria, the city that raised me, shaped me, and gave rhythm to my life. No matter where I go, that connection never fades. It’s in the food I crave, the way I speak, and even the way I think.

Living in America has been a journey filled with growth and, at times, culture shock. I’ve had to adjust to things that felt unfamiliar, different customs, social cues, even the way people express warmth. But beneath all that, there’s always this quiet pull that reminds me of where I come from.

Recently, I read Countee Cullen’s poem “Heritage,” and it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. The poem explores what Africa means to someone living far from it, someone wrestling with belonging and identity between two worlds.

When Cullen asks, “What is Africa to me?” I felt that question deep in my chest. I’ve asked myself that same thing many times since moving here. For me, Africa isn’t just a distant homeland, it’s memory, pride, rhythm, and resilience. It’s the sound of the drums at night, the smell of rain on red earth, the taste of jollof rice shared with family.

Even though I’m far away, my connection to Africa is something I carry everywhere I go. It shapes how I see the world, how I understand people, and even how I write and think.

Distance might change my environment—but never my roots.

📖 My Inspiration:

Countee Cullen’s “Heritage”

Heritage_CounteeCullen.pdf

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