I remember the scent of fried plantains wafting through our tiny apartment, a familiar comfort that somehow always seemed to chase away the cold South African mornings. It was a blend of nostalgia and home, a connection to the life we left behind in Nigeria.

 As I stood at the window, looking out over the sprawling Johannesburg skyline, the sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the bustling streets below. Each car, each pedestrian, each fleeting moment of life was a testament to our journey as immigrants.