My father immigrated to the United States, specifically New York, from Togo around 2004 in hopes of creating a promising future for himself, my mother and for my siblings and I. Finding that he was wasting part of his life and was living in poverty he found that immigrating to the US guarantees more opportunities. He left about a year after I was born, and because he left at such an early stage in my life I had no vivid memories of him. For the time that I lived in Togo, I remember being the happiest, and my mother made the best out of the little she had. I loved the culture, and most importantly I loved the food. As I look back now being an immigrant myself and adjusting to the new environment was challenging. I was surrounded by intriguing people, and I wanted to mirror all that I was exposed to. For a while, I felt very homesick and was extremely picky with the foods I consumed. However, being at home was one of the places where I felt I was the most connected with my roots, and felt no judgment because of my background. I can recall coming back home from school and the smell of spices littered my house, my mom was at the stove and was always cooking. I loved all the dishes she made, and being at home surrounded by it all made me feel comfort and warmth. 

– Adjo Adjegan

Relationship:  Im/migrant who arrived as a child Im/migrant who arrived as a child