‘HOME.’ Where is home? What is a home? Who is home? …I asked these questions because those were the emotions that flooded my mind when I first saw Trippan.
Although I’ve been to the same local beach before, today something was different. I especially like this local beach because it’s quiet and usually anyone is around. I was walking down the broken steps when a dazzling light caught the corner of my eye. It was the glare from the piece of a broken mirror that Trippan was using while carefully shaving his facial hair with a razor. It made me stopped. Suddenly, I found myself looking at what could easily be a set from a movie. Trippan was sitting on the ruins of an abandoned house, which I’ve never noticed before this day, the early morning light gave the scene a gentle and smooth artistic look.
The broken-down walls had a tint of sapphire color on them which contrasted beautifully with the coastal sands and the vegetation in the background. Trippan’s personal belongings were perfectly arranged around him. A red sleeping bag, a set of black sneakers were hanging out to dry, newspapers, a soft cooler box with a few drinks, some toiletries and Trippan’s backpack close to him. Although it was clear that Trippan was homeless, one could observe good manners and a strong feeling of self-caring.
I waited a little for a while before I decided to come closer and introduce myself and make friends with a perfect stranger. ‘Hi,’ ‘Hello! I’m Trippan’. We both smiled.
I sat next to Trippan on a concrete-like bench. We started talking as we knew each other. As I was chatting, I noticed his rare beautiful gold-flecked eyes, his perfect teeth, and his lean yet muscular body. Trippan, no longer a stranger, opened up about where he was from, his past life and how tragedy got him where he is today.
I travelled the world since I was very young, lived in many places, and I am still travelling to many more. As a world traveller, I have to be brutally honest with myself as I interrogated my inner being on – ‘Where’ is my home?’ Who’ is my home ?’ ‘What is my home?’ What is a home?’
As citizens of the world, we are entitled to inhabit any space Mother Earth created for us. For Trippan Haris, he has made home here, on these ruins at a local beach.
For me, home is not a building, not a piece of soil, but a place inside myself where I find peace. Home lives and travels with me.