Land for Sale

Like the unbearable pain of losing a child. Like the bitter flavor of kissing your love good bye. This is how it feels to migrate from your land. When I saw the mountains for the last time, I prayed to God to be making the right choice, but no one knew at that time.

I cannot touch the hearts of my people, they cannot reach mine. My life is like an art work, hanging in the wall of a home that I don’t own. I am far, very far. My kids cannot see my suffering, my boss doesn’t mind.

A woman in a dream land that belongs to others, that is who I am. But when I go back, I will be somebody. No matter how hard I have to work here. No matter how much I suffer, my land will finally become mine, when I go back.

My assets are youth, vigor and pride. Nothing scares me here, I am empowered by my desire to go back home with enough money to buy land. I have three jobs, underpaid, but it is all worth it, to go back with the victory in my hands.

These, are the thoughts of my mother when she left her land. And the thoughts of my grandmother when she left hers. These, my ladies, are the thoughts of all migrating women when they leave their place.

To reclaim their identity, to reenter their lives, they need to be proprietors of a land that nowadays, remains for sale.