All That It Ever Meant

I have three lives: one, as a child of two Zimbabweans I am Zimbabwean; two, as a child of immigrants, I’m a British citizen; and three, I am the person behind these two things. I can choose. I can be British Mati and Zimbabwean Mati, because inside our house it’s Zimbabwe, and right outside our door is England. I like how Mama and Baba sound, unfiltered and candid, like their pictures of “home”. I like how my cousins sound, like no one is going to ask them where they’re from-from. I have two voices, but Mama felt she was losing on and couldn’t find herself in the other.

I didn’t mind calling her “Mum” like she wanted, even though I had to practice it. I knew she needed to fit herself into the space and forget about being a Zimbabwean mum, like, if she layered England over herself-the words, the clothes, the food, the lifestyle-then the clouds wouldn’t get so deep into her bones.