As my sneakers adjoin the dusty gravel of Vilakazi street, I am welcomed by a trial of conflicting noises of the taxi hoots, deafening music from the drinking pub, noisy street vendors pushing sales, a group of little rascals playing Dibeke, a bunch of street boys arguing on their fafi table and dogs constantly barking at passersby from the home fences. I can’t help but also get enticed by hypnotic aromas of different scrumptious dishes from the nearby food parlours… Oops! Is that my stomach aggressively grumbling at this amazing aromas? Either ways my eyes roams around the small town to be met by a bunch of drunkards singing merrily, staggering to God knows where, firmly clutching the bottles of what’s left from what they were consuming at the pub, leaving the four ladies braiding hair by the gazebo in laughing stitches. I smile greeting my mother’s nosey neighbor-friend as I make my way home. Thinking of my mother’s infectious smile of surprise and excitement when she lays my eyes on me. Don’t get me started on my sibling’s screamings and tight hugs as they welcome me back home. The smell of my mother’s home cooked meals is always to die for. I can’t wait to get home because home is where my heart lies.