Finding my place
It’s the place I found my voice and my laugh blended in.
The place I learned that peanuts grow in the ground and gardens are better than supermarkets.
It’s where I learned to speak Bislama, and not care when people don’t speak perfect English.
It’s where I learned that getting a tattoo on you foot in a place full of dirt roads you walk in flip-flops and sometimes barefoot is bad idea, the hard way.
It’s the place I stopped trusting my knowledge of things and started trusting everyone else’s.
It’s the place I found out that custom medicine is better than a pill.
It’s the place I learned that women can be stronger than paper dolls.
It’s the place I realized my society and culture is full of shadows, silhouettes and people wearing masks…and I was one of them.
It’s the place I found out first hand what racisim feels like and I’ll take that every other place I go.
It’s the place I memorized prayers and found God when I wasn’t looking.
It’s the place I learned that I never actually knew mother nature, and the place I learned from her over and over.
It’s the place where I picked leaves off trees and made tea; the place I drank more tea than water.
It was the place I didn’t look in mirrors often but I discovered what I looked like.
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