Rabeb Touihri
Nowhere and Everywhere: The Immigrant’s Search for Home
Tinta regada
1 de mayo de 2025
While modern politics revolves around new policies to combat rapidly changing demographics and the struggle to maintain national identity, this is only half the picture. Whether it is the full or empty part of the cup is up to the viewer to decide. Every topic has multiple perspectives, and as inconvenient as it may be, history is often subjective—mostly written by the victors. Returning to the topic of immigration, there is a phenomenon that affects all immigrants worldwide—a condition that transcends political debates, media discourse, and street protests. As of 2025, the total number of international migrants is estimated to be around 300 million people worldwide. Any reader who has lived abroad for an extended period will understand what I mean. In the seventeenth century, the Swiss physician Johannes Hofer coined the term nostalgia, and it referred to a state of moral pain associated with the forced separation from family and social environment. This feeling became common among those who had left their hometowns to live elsewhere. At the time, the doctor classified it as a disease. Today, it is not officially considered one, but perhaps it should be.
To clarify, traveling for work or tourism is vastly different from living abroad. A tourist’s experience is confined within a brief period of euphoric exploration—an escape from routine rather than an immersion in a new one. Living abroad, on the other hand, means building a life from scratch in an unfamiliar environment. I would call it navigating troubled waters.
Words can never fully capture the feeling of being isolated, alienated, and unable to belong—neither in the new land nor back home. The emotional burden of immigration often manifests as homesickness, identity struggles, and a lingering sense of loss. Many immigrants experience a deep longing for familiarity—not just for family and friends but for the smells, sounds, and simple daily routines that once brought comfort. Over time, this longing can turn into a chronic sense of disconnection, as if living in a constant state of in-betweenness, as Homi Bhabha states.
However, beyond the external struggles, immigration is ultimately a journey toward self-discovery. It is not just about learning a new culture or language but about facing oneself in an unfamiliar world. When the noise of familiarity fades, when there is no longer a societal mold to fit into, an immigrant is left alone with a single question: Who am I, now that everything I once knew is gone?
The search for identity is often a solitary and painful process. In moments of isolation, an immigrant confronts the fractured version of themselves—torn between who they were, who they are expected to become, and who they truly are. It is a struggle that no one prepares for, a silent battle of questioning every aspect of existence. In these moments, even small decisions—what language to speak, what traditions to hold onto, and which parts of the past to leave behind—carry profound weight.
The most paradoxical part of immigration is that even returning home does not necessarily bring relief. Many immigrants find that after years abroad, home is no longer the same. They have changed, and so has their homeland. Friends and family have moved on, cultural norms have evolved, and the once-familiar streets now feel strangely foreign. The painful realization sets in: Home is no longer a place—it is now just a memory.
In Islam, we believe that human beings were created from soil. Just as soil varies across different parts of the world, so too does our sense of belonging. We are naturally connected to the land we were born into, much like plants that grow best in their native soil. No matter where life takes us, there is always an invisible thread pulling us back to our roots. This belief is deeply rooted in Islamic teachings, where the Qur’an explicitly states that humans were created from soil and clay. In Surah Al-Mu’minun (23:12), Allah says: “And certainly did We create man from an extract of clay.” This verse reinforces the idea that human beings are inherently tied to the land they come from. Just as a tree struggles when uprooted from its soil, so too do people when removed from their native environment.
As Arabs, we have a saying we use occasionally, that we were created from soil, and obviously, you can find different kinds of soil around the world, and we belong to the soil we were born into. Think about it this way, some plants can only survive at their location of origin where the weather, the soil, and all the conditions are perfect for it to grow. You may think yes, that’s true, but things are changing, and now we can see tropical fruits being cultivated in different environments. I certainly agree, but I would wonder here whether these plants or fruits have been uprooted and put in a completely different soil or whether they were moved to a new place while providing the same conditions for it to survive, for example, extreme cold or heat! Have you seen palm trees growing in Antarctica? Or Pineapples in the desert? Maybe inside special laboratories where conditions for its survival are met. So are immigrants! Imagine someone moving to a new country, trying to find anything similar to his origins, including small snacks, familiar food, music, weather and the list goes on. Everywhere, there are some shops importing goods from different countries where you can feel a sense of belonging. Think about little Italy, Chinatowns, and Little Cuba in the US. Perhaps one of the reasons why the largest Hispanic communities in the US live in the southern states is the closeness to the southern border or the ease of speaking Spanish around the corner.
Tunisian immigrants around the world are no different, you would notice that the largest Tunisian community lives in France and Italy. Recently, many settled in Canada and Germany as well. The existence of many Tunisians in France made it easy for new immigrants to settle, find everything they needed, and be closer to home than ever. Italy has one of the biggest Tunisian immigrants as well. The uncanny similarities in the weather, the food, and the Italian people’s hospitality and lifestyle are way too similar.
In Arabic, the word “nostalgia” refers to longing for a moment, a person, or a thing—a temporary ache for something lost. However, the immigrant experience is much deeper, captured in the Arabic word “الغربة” (Al Ghorba). Unlike nostalgia, Al Ghorba describes the state of estrangement, exile, and emotional displacement that an immigrant feels. It is not just missing a place—it is feeling disconnected from both the place left behind and the new one. It carries a profound sense of being an outsider everywhere—not fully belonging here or there.
An immigrant’s journey is not just about moving to a different land; it is about unknowingly making sacrifices they never anticipated. Many immigrants leave behind parents they may never see again, childhood friendships that slowly fade, and a homeland that becomes more distant with each passing year. The world often looks at immigrants as people seeking better opportunities, but few recognize the silent battles they fight every day. Sadly enough, these feelings make me think of someone I know: A young male who immigrated chasing the “European Dream,” finds himself diagnosed with a rare epilepsy. After visiting the best doctors in the field and doing all the tests, no cure was found. His dream was chattered for the epilepsy ruined his life to remain at work: Due to the epilepsy episodes, physically, the bone of his shoulders broke, leading to multiple surgeries, while the psychological one caused loss of memories. Interestingly enough, he lost his short-term memory, memories built abroad. Meanwhile, he still remembers his childhood and every moment he spent back home! It’s been more than 12 years of suffering till he found a temporary cure which consists of continuous trips to visit home…
In a world shaped by migration, we must remind ourselves that every immigrant carries an untold story of loss and resilience. It is easy to judge someone for their accent, their customs, or their struggle to find their place, but it takes true kindness to recognize the depth of what they have endured. They did not simply move; they left behind an entire world. So, the next time you meet an immigrant, a refugee, or someone struggling to know who they are in a world that feels unfamiliar, remember: you do not know the sacrifices they made while embarking on uncharted waters. A little empathy can go a long way in making this world feel less lonely for those who no longer know where “home” truly is.
***If even immigrants no longer know where home is, then what truly defines “home”? ***
