It was April 6th 2015 when I get the awful news that my Sudanese father had passed away. I was just with him two weeks prior in the northwest of England where he used to come to visit us ever three months. Even though it has been27 years since I was last on Sudanese soil I was not nervous about going back to where I was raised till I had reached 16 years of age. Despite the sad circumstances I felt I was home. My numerous cousins never left my side for 10 days keeping me busy and taking me to the graveside, I’d missed the burial, and doing all the things that one does during mourning. Although I live in the uk, I frequently return to take care of the affairs of my father and use this to reconnect with all that I hold dear in this world. Family, fullness of life and kindness. I could shake Sudan out of me even if I tried.