Wā Kāinga and what it means to me. Far, what a fucking loaded statement. For me, and I’m sure I’ve made this abundantly clear, I’ve always found it difficult to understand where I belong or where I consider home. Not home in the metaphorical sense (far norf reps bitch), but rather the tangible idea of a physical home. There’s no childhood home for me, nowhere I remember growing up with my height on a door frame. Before I was in school, I’d moved like 15 times – school definitely didn’t slow that down though. I’ve been more nomadic than I probably should’ve been. Was this a choice of mine? No. But is it something that I’ve been mad at for happening? Naaaah.
Home, for me, has always been where I currently reside. In the same way that you can choose your hoa e whānau, I choose where my home is. Without resorting to stereotypes, I’ve been homeless a few times in my life. There’s been multiple instances of living in a car-based home. When I was younger but also in my adult years. I don’t recommend it for the sake of your poor back. My beat up ‘89 corolla was somewhere I lived for a short while, sorry to all those second year teaching students who I’m sure could tell. But that’s where this kōrero around home resides – what we consider home. Or what do I consider home? Obviously I’ve already divulged my sad-sack story of homelessness and never being in a stable home (aww sad), but in all honesty, I am a bit of a free-spirit kid who isn’t sure where he belongs. Sorry to not give a definitive answer but that’s all there is to it. I don’t know
This week was an interesting week for us in the office, with everyone discussing where they’re from and where they’ve been. With a range of emigration stories, I felt selfish in my ability to call Aotearoa home as tangata whenua. There’s this weird divide as we struggle as a community to distinguish who’s a kiwi and who’s an immigrant. If you whakapapa māori, are you more of a kiwi than a first generation child of immigrants from Europe? Where’s the line? I want to make certain that I don’t think that there’s anyone more important than anyone else, but Māori do originate on this land so that’s our whakapapa. It’s hard, as Māori, to not be protective of our whenua but the truth is we’re all just occupants of this planet – we’re all at home in some way right?
So here’s where I stand currently, uncertain of where I’m going and who I am. But the ultimate takeaway for you as a general reader of this shitfest editorial, is that I’m happy and that’s all that matters. Lol. I can feel the emotions exuding as I pour my heart and soul into this but home is something that means bugger all to me. I’m sure I’ll find myself eventually, as you all will, but the genuine answer is that I’m okay with whatever happens from here on out. I’ll find my home and who I am. Kei te pai.
