Home Moments

On returning to the village, there were a number of moments which showed to me that this place in increasingly another home to me.

First were the familiarity of faces and the warmness of welcome. These are now people I know and have a relationship with. We were genuinely pleased to see each other, with lots of hugs and strong handshakes. There were even some hugs from the men! There were also some familiar faces who were absent, but not missed. A place is home when you have been there long enough to have some people rub you the wrong way as well as to form friendships. The nicest welcome was that some of the children smiled at me, rather than being scared yet again.

Kake cat, who unfortunately died recently (H.Schulz)

My neighbours’ cat gave me a very smoochy welcome back, although when he brought me a dead rat to show his affection I was less pleased. I was pleased about one less rat in the world, but not pleased to hear him crunching it in my living area. He was a bit upset that I swept him out the door to eat on the veranda.

I know I am becoming a local when I know my way around the village and am able to wander around at will. When I walked between this village and the next, I was only escorted back as far as the edge of the village, they trusted me to find my way home from there.

Hanging out in the afternoon (H.Schulz)

Being able to just hang out with people is a homely thing too. Between visits, a shelter was built between the river and the open space where volleyball is often played. I often head down there in the afternoon and sit with the women awhile. All the while my phone downloads emails. I do not have to tell stories or make a show, I can just sit and be with them. I cannot join the conversation yet, but we can watch volleyball together and enjoy each other’s company. Slowly I am recognising more faces and connecting families together.

Although I can’t follow the conversation, I am encouraged by the scraps I do understand. Kope has gone from being a long string of sounds to having distinct words to my ears. Often I find myself thinking ‘I know those words!’ By the time I’ve repeated them to myself and worked out their meaning, the conversation has moved on, but I am still encouraged by the pieces I do recognise. To not be overwhelmed all the time, but to have points of recognition, goes a long way to making this place home.

My village garden, with its enthusiastic
 snake bean plants. (H.Schulz)

A final piece of belonging is being able to share veggies from my gardens. When I flew down I brought a box of passionfruit and a container of cherry guavas, picked from my highlands garden. People were very happy to try these fruits that were new to most of them. Meanwhile, my swamp garden was flourishing, provided beans to eat and making my house look like home.

While the language is still hard work and the culture often confronting, it is encouraging to have these moments of belonging.