In a hollow, sandstone hull, words whispered to develop caution in the moments to follow. Goosebumps injected firmly under the skin to mould the fear from the past, as the hope for the future enlightened the mind. Over 100 years later, my soul met the call of ancestors to their abandoned orphanage. Their mark, a testament to a life I now enjoy. Forever remembered. Forever country.
On the way home, I finally tune back into a podcast. It talks of the legacy left by our Grandparents and even Great Grandparents, how they have shaped us and the lives we live today. Somehow, if only they knew. If only the generations from before could feel my desire to carry their legacies out. If they just knew.
Yet in this place- they know. They share the pain and worries I feel, tell of the times and uncertainty ahead and whisper the same hope for the future. Somehow, I have blindly followed them, shared the journey once again. They have known, and I merely embrace my place. A mere player in this stage of life. Yet they call me to play my part. Forever country.
There is no wonder the Buccan Buccan and Mograni have taken me here. In between the bora grounds where boys turn man I live, spirits tell my old people where I am and pathing the way for the future. Under the shadow of these mountains I am home. Forever Worimi. Forever free. Forever country.
Meanwhile at home, the garden provides life for the soil. Chooks roam freely amongst the fading grass for fun and the bees drift to the nearby trees to fragrant their home. Each part thriving under the heating sun, resiliently making their stand on the ground.
Meanwhile the farm was shared to new AirBnB guests to enjoy this piece of paradise, another way to share the love for the land. Meanwhile, we pressed riverside honey from golden frames to also enjoy the taste. Each part just a way of showing off these Worimi ways, each encounter a moment to share this place.
As the sun fades to a distant place, I can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed. Not just in the moments and experiences encountered, or the date looming on the horizon, but somehow in myself. I can’t help but wonder if I can do more or if my time is allocated incorrectly. The time wasted on uncertain events or trips somewhere that last hours irritate more than before. Somehow I feel uncomfortable with this loss and crave structure once again.
But for now. For me. Forever country.