Are We Selling Our Birthright for a Bowl of Stew? :A Diaspora Reflection on Identity, Belonging & Home

Zimbabwe was exactly what my soul needed.

I didn’t realise how drained I had become mentally, emotionally, and spiritually until my feet touched Zimbabwean soil again. There is something grounding about being in a place where you don’t need to explain yourself, defend your identity, or brace for the next political storm. It is the comfort of stepping into a land where your story began.

Zimbabwe is home. England is home.

But the truth is this: in recent years, England has started to feel like a home with shifting walls. A home that keeps moving the goalposts. A home where public conversations increasingly paint migrants as problems to solve rather than people with purpose, dignity, and dreams.

The constant immigration changes…

The rising far-right rhetoric…

The unending talk of “net migration,” “foreigners,” and “them”…

It slowly eats away at your sense of belonging. It creates a heaviness you carry in your spirit. It makes you question whether the place you have built your life in truly sees you as more than a number.

Then Zimbabwe.

I arrived in a country with its own complexities, challenges, and imperfections, yet something in me exhaled for the first time in a long time.

When I turned on ZBC News, what I heard was not fearmongering or hostility. Instead, the message was clear:

“This is your country.

This is your inheritance.”

And suddenly, something inside me stirred with recognition.

Yes, Zimbabwe has its share of struggles.

But even with all of that, it is still ours.

It is the land that shaped me.

The place where I am not classified as a visa type or a political debate I am simply Rumbidzai. A daughter of the land.

And so a question rose in my heart:

Are we selling our birthright for a bowl of stew?

Like Esau, are we trading something invaluable our identity, our inheritance, our home for temporary comfort in a foreign land?

Are we surrendering the long-term value of belonging just because the bowl in front of us appears warm, immediate, and convenient?

This is not a call for everyone to pack their bags and move back home.

It is not a dismissal of the diaspora journey.

Many of us were sent out, positioned, and planted by God in nations far from where we were born. Our lives abroad carry purpose, provision, and prophetic significance.

But it is a call to reflect.

To pause.

To remember who we are.

To consider what we lose when we allow foreign systems to define us.

Because perhaps the real danger is not migration itself

but forgetting that we already belong somewhere.

How Do We Get the Best of Both Worlds?

This is the question that echoed in my heart throughout my time in Zimbabwe.

Can we build meaningful lives abroad and remain rooted in the inheritance of our homeland?

Can we embrace global identities without abandoning the place God first called us?

Can we stand in two worlds without losing ourselves in either?

This year 2025 I needed a break from British politics more than ever before.

I could not keep up with the immigration changes.

I could not absorb one more headline designed to stir fear and suspicion.

My mental health felt stretched. My physical body felt tired.

Zimbabwe became the pause my soul had been craving.

For my mind.

For my body.

For my faith.

For my clarity.

Zimbabwe reminded me:

You have an identity.

You have a home.

You have an inheritance.

Do not trade what is yours for temporary acceptance.

Our future, as Zimbabweans in the diaspora, may not be an either/or.

Perhaps it is a both/and:

Flourishing abroad and Remaining deeply connected to Zimbabwe.

Working, studying, building, and contributing in the nations where we live while still honouring the land that named us and shaped us.

We do not have to choose between being global citizens and children of our homeland.

We can hold both.

Maybe the real blessing is discovering how to thrive in two worlds without losing ourselves in the process.