On remigration: When Past meets Future meets Self.

In 2025, I relocated from Kenya to the Netherlands after 18 years of living in Nairobi. When I left my birth country at 22, I went alone, with a backpack and a whole lot of curiosity as well as a dream to change the world.

Upon return, I brought my love, our two children, and six suitcases back to the Netherlands.

I learned a lot about letting go. Physical possessions don’t mean much to me, but having a home does. We spent two months staying at a friend’s house after our previously confirmed housing fell through less than two weeks before we left. With the current housing crisis in the Netherlands, I panicked. Everyone I'd ask for help finding a house would tell me how impossible it would be.

The summer months were precious, filled with the people closest to us. At the same time, they were some of the scariest of my life. Not having a home for my family touched something from my past. A familiar feeling; at sixteen, as a high school student, while living on my own, my student housing felt unsafe. I'd never thought that I'd relive those feelings again as a mother of two. And thankfully, I was able to secure a home for us before the school holidays were over - in my old high school town Oegstgeest.

Remigration is more than just moving your body across borders. It brings older parts of yourself to the surface. I returned as someone new, carrying such incredible experiences. At the same time, so aware of the experiences and the pain of my teenage years, that I'd attempted to leave behind. For me, coming “home” means learning to meet myself again.

In this process, finding my voice is essential. Back then, I wasn’t able to fully speak for myself. I learned early on to balance my own feelings with those of the adults around me and somewhere along the way, that turned into going along with what I was told. You’re old enough to live on your own.

I was 16.

Facing those same people now, in the autumn of their lives, brings up many emotions. It also brings me clarity. I no longer let others define what is and isn’t possible for me. We found a home during one of the biggest housing crises in this country. I secured freelance work. I am able to sustain my family.

Finding my voice now means something different than it once did. It’s no longer shaped by other people’s limits or expectations. My voice is grounded in lived experience.

It’s here to protect, to choose, and to lead. Starting from home.