Transitions Home
Navigating the blurred cracks between cultures and communities makes for an exquisite challenge. Friendships are redefined, comfort zones redrawn, and identities renegotiated.
In this essay, Kaya Co. Fellow* Gabbie Santos explores the nuances of the complex emotions involved. See what it’s really like to go big and go home.
wabi-sabi: (n.) — a way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay; a vegetarian ramen place where I took my co-fellows for lunch
By Gabbie Santos
58 days ago, I arrived at the Kaya Condo with a suitcase full of clothes and not a whole lot of expectations. I couldn’t really tell from our pre-arrival virtual meetings what I was getting myself into. Then I was right at the doorstep, introducing myself to strangers I’d be living with for the next eight weeks. Today, I’m writing from my own room in Cavite, after having officially moved out of the condo yesterday. I can’t quite find the words to capture the thoughts and emotions running through me (there are many), but here’s my attempt at making sense of transitions home.
I’ve been left behind in the Philippines.
I’ve been left behind in the Philippines. Not having a flight to catch, an ocean to cross, or a new time zone to adjust to in some ways makes it more difficult for me to wrap my head around the end of such a memorable and meaningful experience. My proximity to the physical spaces my co-fellows that I occupied over the summer almost convinces me that it’s just another one of those times I go home to see my own family, and that I’ll be back in a few hours to a place with people I’ve learned to also call home. Those spaces, if I do revisit them will feel hollow in the absence of my good friends — at least for now, until the sadness is transformed into gratitude.
This is not the first time that I’ve been part of a community built from the ground up and then dismantled as time ran out. Looking back, I feel that two months was just enough for us to create our own space where differences were not only acknowledged but also encouraged, where opinions and beliefs were shaped and challenged, and where vulnerability and communication stood as cornerstones of the relationships we formed. To have to take it down collectively is also an integral part of the process that I have come to genuinely appreciate.
A space where differences were not only acknowledged but also encouraged, where vulnerability and communication stood as cornerstones of the relationships we formed.
Transitioning back to where each one of us came from is not always smooth sailing, just as the time between our arrival in Manila and our departure from it was imperfect. Often, what is most difficult is explaining to others — family and friends — the experiences we’ve had, their impact, and the growth that has taken place since they sent us off on our adventure. “So how was it?” is a question that always draws a blank from me just because I cannot put in words the montage that instantly plays in my head when I have to look back. I find that a snapshot suffices, and that those who are keen on understanding the larger picture will make the effort to ask important questions and listen to the thoughts I have to offer.
I can always fake it on the outside, but to be honest with myself is to honour any changes that have occurred in me.
Another challenge is readjusting to previous, familiar surroundings. It takes time and it requires patience from those around us and more importantly, from ourselves. I can always fake it on the outside, but to be honest with myself is to honour any changes that have occurred in me. While a lot of learning and exploring happened during various field visits on Kaya Co. days or during the weekends, I found that it was in the condo, in the warm company of my co-fellows and friends that I was able to collect myself and recalibrate. To be able to take that (hopefully) better version of myself back home or back to university might mean being uneasy in a space that should seem like my comfort zone, but I must be willing to push through, as the alternative is too costly.
Finally, as the 2015 Kaya Co. fellowship cohort disperses, I think of the words that the author Miriam Adeney once wrote: “You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”
“You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.” — Miriam Adeney
Inevitably, we will all move on from this summer because that is the only way forward. How soon is a personal question — we’ve always left enough room for each one to process the way they deem appropriate and true to themselves. My hope however, is for all of us to be able to look to this summer spent in the motherland and draw from it the inspiration, strength, and energy to keep building bridges back.
As members of the Kaya Co. family, the call will always be to go big and go home. Until then,
Gabbie
Gabbie Santos is a sharp, inquisitive world traveler, among many other things. Having begun to rediscover a critical lens of thought, her curiosity was tested in the Philippines while advocating transparency and good governance with Bantay.ph.
*The 2016 Kaya Co. Fellowship Application is now live! Learn more and apply at http://kayaco.org/fellowship.
