By Ozzy Brown

Deep in the Himalayan mountains in the remote village of Agora I find myself beset with a unfamiliar feeling; all throughout my life I have been separated from one or more of my parents, either bouncing from house to house as a child, attending Christchurch as a boarding student for all of high school, and being far removed from everyone I know in the two previous global education trips I have taken, yet still, for the first time I can remember in my life, in the unknown mountainous jungles of India, I feel homesick. It is not an ache that takes over my soul and eats away at it but it is there in the back of my mind when I lay my head to rest in the bed of our homestay and when I wake up to and breathe in the crisp mountain air. Homesickness is not necessarily a bad thing though, I believe it stems from the reflecting I have been doing during our discussions and our experiences. For the first time in my life I fully understand what drives me to life, what allows me to wake up ready every morning and what compels me to seize the day, to take action when I can. The communities that have settled deep into my heart, the emotional connections I have made are the lifeblood of my soul. 

I think the root of these new feelings stems from familiarizing myself with the Agora village community. The people of Agora treated us with such kindness and showed such deep connection with each other. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. People said hello as we passed, told us about their lives, and as I learned about their lives I understand how important community is. These people know each other and care for each other, instead of just knowing some of the people on your block like back where I live. These people are one community not just a group of peopling living in a particular place. Their happiness and fulfillment I realized stems from how much their community means to them, which made me reflect on myself and what place my communities have in my heart.

A particular interaction that stuck with me and made me reflect on this was when traveling through Bevra in the Assi Gonga valley was when we were invited into the home of a elderly woman, who lived in a small secluded house with her living quarters on one side and the pen for her livestock on the other. The kindly woman invited us in to share cups of chai and good company as we learned about her life. Her husband capitalized on the rapidly expanding tourism industry and was working in a hotel far away; her children scattered to the winds to make a name for themselves in the vast world opened up to them by technology, and there she was all alone in her home in the valley. I dared not ask her if she was content in her life here, for that which I regret, but seeing her and sipping on her chai made me confront what fulfills me in my life. 

I think to my family who push me to be stronger, to Game Kastle the game store I go to every Friday night, to my friends who laugh with me and care about who I am, and to my school community which drives me to learn and pursue my passions. I look into my memories and reflect on those that I have lost and I understand the temporary nature of connection, how I only have so long with those who drive me and who care for me. I find that the homesickness I feel urges me to make the most of my connections, to pursue excellence not just for myself but the people who surround me. I miss my parents, and my dog, and my friends here, but I do not think that is a terrible tragedy at all. It is a blessing to wake up each day and have people to miss and to be grateful they care, to have people there for you even when you are the farthest you have ever been from home. My communities provide energy to my heart and I need to be the best I can, not for myself but for the people I love.