Can you tell us about home?

Home? Home is on the flat lands of the north, acres and acres of the sweetest sugar canes and the bitterest cocoas. Home is the hard hills that guard the deepest gold mines. Home is the thickest forests, which are pages holding stories of ancient kingdoms and traditional lores. Home is the coast, the chessboard of modern cities built by foreigners but run by the indigenous. Home? Home is also the hibernating Atlantic.

For years, the body of water was left to sleep. It snoozed like an aged laborer, finally in deep slumber after its historic toils. Gone are the days when we only grappled with its waves in search of food and new territories. Soon, we began to use its bed for our trade and dig deep for its oil. Now, the beast has woken and comes into our bed.

Blanketed by the cloudy skies above, skies that indicate signs of change, a medium showcasing the seasons. No longer bright blue with still white clouds, as thunderous groans now encompass us above. The clouds empty themselves, refreshing our soil and bringing life. Yet, we witness a paradox as the same element takes our farms, our forests, our homes. Is it revenge? Some say no - it’s a baptism, to purify us and give us a fresh start. One thing we know for certain is that the increased disruption and devastation to our world are caused by our own hands.