Nowhere to Belong
She sat beneath the old baobab tree at the edge of the village, her mind drowning in sorrow. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long, sweeping shadows over the earth as the village around her slowly fell into quietude. It was one of those moments where time seemed to stand still, yet every second that passed pressed heavily on her chest. She had been searching for answers for so long, walking through the village, pleading with the elders, asking every villager she came across about her mother's past, about the family she might have had, about anything that might provide her with some connection, some understanding of where she came from.
But no one knew. No one remembered.
The weight of this truth hung around her neck like a chain, suffocating her. It had been days since she arrived back in the village—the village where she had spent her childhood in a forgotten corner, with a mother who was nothing but an isolated figure of madness in the eyes of the villagers. She had no family. No place to call home. No one to turn to. The cruel whispers of the villagers echoed in her mind, mocking her. Her mother had been a woman of no name, no past, and no dignity.
And now, it seemed, that was all she would be too. A nameless shadow.
The world around her was full of life, full of people with families, with histories, with roots. As she sat beneath the baobab tree, her tears stained her dirt-smeared cheeks, mixing with the sadness that threatened to swallow her whole. She thought about how, as the villagers went back to their warm homes, sat with their families, and shared their meals, she would go back to an empty world. A world where she was a stranger, even to herself.
She had always been an outsider. Even in the presence of her mother, she had been an outsider—never fully accepted, never fully understood. The echo of her mother's voice in her mind was a fleeting comfort: "They will never understand me." She could still hear it as clearly as if her mother had just spoken those words to her. But the world had never understood either of them, had never cared enough to try. It didn't matter that her mother had tried to protect her, tried to make a life for them in a place that rejected them both.
Now, there was only silence. There was nothing left to hold onto. No one in the village knew who she was, except for the girl who belonged to the mad woman who had died alone. She was forgotten, just like her mother. Lost.
She let her tears fall freely, feeling the bitter sting of all that had been taken from her, all that she could never have. She had been through so much already—the hunger, the isolation, the constant fear of what was to come next—and yet, now, she felt as though she was being buried beneath the weight of it all. The world seemed impossibly vast and cruel, and she wondered if it might have been better if she hadn't returned at all. Maybe she should have stayed gone.
She could have kept walking, kept running, kept searching for something, anything that could fill the emptiness inside. But she was too tired now.
The thought crossed her mind—Would it be easier to stop fighting? Would it be easier to just let go?
Would it be easier to fade away into nothingness, just as her mother had done? The thought clung to her like a dark cloud, threatening to swallow her. It was tempting. The world had shown her nothing but cruelty and abandonment. What was the point of fighting for a life that seemed to have no place for her? She had nothing. She was nothing.
But then, something unexpected happened.
A gust of wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending them swirling around her in a whirlwind of motion. For a brief, fleeting moment, she could almost hear her mother's voice on the wind. It wasn't clear at first, just a whisper, a faint murmur carried on the breeze. But then it became more distinct, as if her mother was standing beside her, speaking directly to her.
"They will never understand me."
The words rang out in the stillness, reverberating through her heart. She could almost feel her mother's presence in that moment, as though the years of silence between them had vanished, leaving only the bond that had always existed. Despite everything her mother had endured, despite the madness that had consumed her, she had survived.
And so, she would survive too.
She wiped her tears, her hands trembling slightly as she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were weak, unsteady beneath her, but her resolve began to firm, slowly, but surely. Her body ached, every step felt like a battle, but her heart—her heart told her something different. It told her that she was still here.
She wasn't going to fade into the wind like her mother had.
Her mother had fought. She had endured. She had made it through the madness, the loneliness, the hunger. And maybe, just maybe, there was something to that. Maybe she could do the same.
She stood there for a moment longer, staring out into the distance as the sun sank lower, the world bathed in the orange glow of the evening. She could see the villagers now gathering around their fires, sharing their stories, their laughter. But none of it mattered to her anymore. They could have their warmth. They could have their family.
She would survive.
She didn't know how yet. She didn't know where she would go or what she would do. But the world would not take everything from her. Not this time. She wasn't going to be swallowed up by the emptiness, by the cruelty that had marked her life. She wasn't going to let herself become a shadow. She wasn't going to let herself be forgotten.
She walked away from the baobab tree, away from the edge of the village. She felt the cold sting of the evening air on her skin, the dust of the road beneath her feet. But she also felt something else—something she hadn't felt in a long time.
She felt alive.
She wasn't sure what the future held, or how she was going to make it. But there was a part of her now, deep down inside, that knew she was going to fight. She was going to survive, even if she had to do it alone.
She walked on, her heart heavy but her sp
irit unbroken.
She was going to survive.
Somehow.