If my heart was a house, you'd be home

It's interesting how the concept of "home" is constantly in flux. As I walked through the streets of Chibuto again this week, I didn't feel the twinge of nostalgia that I did last time. In fact, all I felt was an incredible detachment from my surroundings. Even when my Art Club boys Vasco and Rosthilo stopped by Erica and Alycia's house, all I did was wave from inside the house. I just don't know what to say to them. I don't belong there anymore.
Perhaps I felt this way because I was coming off of a 3 hour chapa ride that should have been no more than 1.5 hours (it's unfathomable to me how a short trip can take so long), or because people kept yelling racist unintelligable "Chinese" at me and making karate chop moves. You should know that I've developed quite a significant amount of patience for harrassment in my time here in Moz. These days, the hissing of men I pass on the street just sounds like the buzz of a mosquito in my ear, irritating but unavoidable. However, the "CHING CHANG CHONG CHONG CHOONG" comments and especially the accompanied laughter (because apparently insensitivity is hilarious), still gets to me. It doesn't make me angry so much anymore, as much as it just hurts my feelings. I'm a person,I want to say, not a stereotype.
(The other day, during a meeting with another organization, someone referred to me as "guaranteed money." So apparently, I'm just a big fat dollar sign. These types of comments are hard not to take personally even if they are based on ignorance, because they really devalue the work I'm doing. If I'm only here to give money, then I'm wasting two years of my time.)
By the time I got off the chapa in Chicumbane (another 4 hours later. HOW??) I was almost in tears. Too many racist and insensitive comments, or otherwise incidences of being completely ignored, for a 12 hour span. But as I walked from the paragem to my house, I passed three separate people who called me by name. "Mana Vivienne!" They greeted me, and each time I felt as if a tiny burden lifted off my shoulders.
By the time I opened the door of my house, greeted by my pups, I was human again. This community of Chicumbane, where I am recognized as a person, where I am doing so many things and getting to know so many people, had somehow become my home.