This post remained as a draft from June 2008 when I spent a month in Uppsala, at the library of the Nordic Africa Institute writing my Master's thesis in African Studies. I published this post finally in August 2022, only editing the title (which was originally "Nostalgia") and the last paragraph somewhat.
I haven't felt the urge to write for some days now, because that is what I mostly do during all my days at the Institute. I go there around ten in the morning and return around 8-9-10 in the evening. Also on weekends, although I tend to take them a bit lighter.
I had forgotten already how it feels like to be in a foreign (Sweden counts as one, in the end) country alone for the first few days, missing people and wanting to be somewhere else. At the same time there are so many things to explore and so many people to meet, but in the beginning the fatigue and – perhaps even in Sweden – adjusting to the culture takes time. The funniest thing is that besides home country, I also begin to miss other places where I've lived. I began to remember all the nice things in Benin, for example, and to plan ways of getting there again.
Also in Uppsala, although everybody at the Institute have been very friendly and there is really nothing to complain, the thoughts of separateness and not belonging come to mind. In a way it is something I can benefit from: when being a total outsider, I can concentrate wholeheartedly to observing other people and looking at their lives. I know that at some point I will become one of those people whom I observe, who chatter, laugh and have fun with their friends or acquaintances – next week will already be totally different, when I have places and people that I am familiar with.
Finding a safe haven, a place where one feels comfortable is truly important in a strange environment. I have already found two in Uppsala: first the old graveyard, and then a lovely forest walking route just in front of our apartment. It feels almost like being in the countryside, with horses and sheep and everything fresh, green and absolutely beautiful.
These safe places can be found almost anywhere: in Zanzibar that would’ve been the Mbweni beach where I could retreat for reading, swimming and having a delicious meal in the afternoons. In Grand-Popo I used to sit in one of the tables of the Farafina restaurant after my work day, on the way home. In Paris I sat in some of the parks or went to an indie bar Pop-Inn on Saturday evenings. In Reykjavik I often went to the seashore, look at the waves and the mountain Esja.
Besides safe places, one needs safe people. It is always just as amazing – like a swoosh of a magic wand and ‘abrakadabra’ – how everything changes when finding people you feel comfortable with. The process of getting to know people requires landmarks as well: something in common, a place you have both been to or know something about, a common language, or any other shared experience or interest. Shared humanity, perhaps?
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