I never thought food, let alone something so small, could carry so much meaning and memory. A samosa (otherwise known as sambusa in Somali) can fit perfectly into the palm of your hand. Crispy on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside, filled with meat, vegetables, and spices that smell of home. Long before I actually understood what homesickness felt like, samosas were already part of my life, woven into memories of carefree fun days with family.
Growing up, my mom and I would buy samosas together after running errands or on a slow, casual day when we wanted a treat. We would buy them at a Somali restaurant called Salaama Hut, where we would find our way after a long day shopping at as many outlet stores as we could find in Toronto. We went with the intention of having something warm to eat, especially in the winter months. The samosas were always fresh and smelled warm and comforting. We’d eat them in the car or save them for home as something to look forward to after a long day out and about.
This was our routine, and it was familiar and comforting, so I didn’t know it would become something I would come to miss since it was simply part of what being home meant. When I moved away for my first year of university, I expected to miss my family, my room, my hometown, and my friends, but I never expected to miss the small rituals that made up my daily life. The ones that didn’t seem as important until they were gone. The first semester of school was new and overwhelming in ways I had never experienced before. Everything felt unfamiliar, and while I was surrounded by people, I often still felt alone. To push through this, I filled my time with classes and spent time making new memories with friends I would come to cherish as the years passed by.
But homesickness has a way of creeping up on you at the most unexpected of times. It shows up when you’re sitting alone in the dining hall one night after a long day and eating food that doesn’t compare to a home-cooked meal. Homesickness made me miss the feeling of belonging and ease that comes naturally in a space that is familiar and comforting. And without realizing it at first, I started to miss samosas.
It sounds funny to miss a certain food like you’d miss a person or place, but it’s the ritual that comes along with it that really pulls at my heart.
One afternoon, I was walking through my university city when I came across a restaurant called East African Cafe that had something about it that pulled me in. I stepped inside, and it almost immediately felt familiar with the scent of warm spices in the air. When I saw samosas on the menu, I immediately felt the need to order them. When I bit into it, it tasted almost exactly like the samosas my mom and I would buy together. For a moment, it felt like home wasn’t that far away. Sitting in that restaurant, I felt a sense of calmness overcome me that I didn’t know I was searching for.
From then on, whenever I missed home more than usual and wanted a taste of familiarity, I’d try to make my way to the restaurant. Sometimes I’d eat there, or I’d take it with me to enjoy in my dorm. Each time I made my way there, it reminded me that home isn’t only a place, but that it can also be found in a smell and taste.
Finding East African samosas in my university city at a time in my life where everything felt new and unfamiliar helped me realize that as you get older, you start to carry home with you even when you don’t realize it. It doesn’t disappear just because you leave. You instead start to find it in unexpected places that remind you of where you came from.
Now, whenever I find myself eating a samosa away from home, it reminds me of my mom and our outings together as I was growing up. And in those moments and with every bite, I find a sense of home again.