Am I still travelling when my close friends bring me to parties? Am I still a stray if I drive the car back home?

I mostly went because a dear friend invited me and another friend was playing. Otherwise I didn’t feel like partying.

“Já falo um poco portugês,” I tell him as I help him carry the instruments to the car after the set. We exchange some phrases and his face lights up.
“Que bonito!” he exclaims. We have only spoken Swedish and English before. He is from Moçambique and living in Sweden: my very first African dance teacher.

His smile is like open arms. It brings me back to Maputo in a flash, to how someone can smile like this when you speak their language with them, when you show the effort of meeting them in a place that is familiar to them. It is very validating. It motivates me to keep going, keep learning and trying. For a second, my knees go weak and I want to cry; it feels like home.

Then it passes.

…

(This story told in pictures.)