In 100 words? Odd one this. I was born in Africa, but I’ve never visited the country of my birth, since leaving. Lots of reasons, most of them probably not worth much; fear, most likely. I have visited other countries though, and something truly visceral happened to me when I smelled rain on red dirt among the jacarandas. I doubt that I could ever have identified the smell, if you had somehow wafted it under my nose in North London. But in Nairobi the second time (the first being a momentary stop-over of my first flight to England) it smelled like home.