There’s something special about going back home—not just a trip to a place, but to where your story began. It is a journey into the heart of family, culture, and the simple joys of life. On my last journey to Inuma village, I had the privilege of spending precious time with my mum, sister, extended families after 5-years. I left behind the busy, modern comforts of Australia. I embraced a simple, authentic village lifestyle. For 5-days, I reconnected with my family, my culture, and the heartbeat of the land that raised me. What I found was more than just a trip—it was a reminder of who I am and where I belong.
✈️Landing in Port Moresby
After five years away, I finally returned to Inuma, my village. The descent offers sweeping views of rugged mountains and scattered coastline. Landing at Port Moresby International Airport was exciting and surreal, and the familiar hum of the tropics hit me, but the welcome is never complete until you finally clear the crawling customs process. Walking through customs, my heart raced—this wasn’t just a trip; this was homecoming. I could already feel the excitement bubbling inside—home wasn’t far away now. After what felt like forever, I stepped through the arrival doors and was instantly embraced by family waiting eagerly on the other side.
️🛒Stocking Up for Village
There was no time to waste—First stop: groceries! I picked up essentials to take back with me for days ahead, little treats to share with my family. Every item felt like a bridge connecting me to home.
🚗️The Journey Along Magi Highway
Driving out of Port Moresby city, the Magi Highway stretched ahead. Green hills, dusty roads, and familiar sights brought childhood memories rushing back—running barefoot, climbing trees, swimming in the river. The road trip was more than just a journey; it was a transition. Each passing mile pulled me closer to the place that shaped me, where time slows, community thrives, and life flows to the rhythm of the land. For the next five days, I would be immersed in the simplicity and richness of village life—surrounded by my family, my people, and the unshakable spirit of home.
The road to the village was rough, each bump and turn a reminder of just how far removed Inuma is from the busy city. Yet with every mile, my anticipation grew. The closer we came, the stronger the pull of home became, until finally the familiar landscape unfolded before me.
️❤️Arrival: Inuma Village
Stepping out of the vehicle, there they were: my mum and my sister with Down syndrome. Tears, laughter, and hugs—words couldn’t capture the joy. One by one, I met all my family members, each greeting full of love and warmth. I was overwhelmed by the warmth of family, instantly making me feel at home again after being away. But it was my mother’s embrace that anchored me. No matter how far I’ve traveled or how long I’ve been away, her arms have always been the true measure of home.
The sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks and brought tears to my eyes. My aging mother stood there, her smile beaming with grace and strength, reaching deep into my soul. Beside her, my eldest sister—born with Down syndrome—radiated a light of pure love and innocence that words can barely capture. Around them, cousins, uncles, and aunties moved with the vibrant energy of village life, weaving a tapestry of belonging that no distance or time apart could ever unravel.
🍌🥥Taste of Childhood
Spending time with mum was a highlight. She cooked traditional dishes like kato-kato and mashed ripe banana with coconut cream —my favorites. Every bite was a delicious reminder of home, memories, and love.
🌊River Adventure
Among the many things I enjoyed, I had some absolute favorite moments. The children dragged me to the river every day. Swimming, laughing, diving for prawns—it was pure joy. Cooking the prawns over an open fire on the riverbank, eating together, I felt the simplicity and magic of village life. Let me tell you, the aroma was enough to make a gourmet chef weep! I sat there and listened to their wild stories. They playfully mocked my complete lack of diving skills. Seriously, who knew catching shrimp was an Olympic sport? And don’t get me started on the wild fruits. I couldn’t tell which ones were edible. So, I just assumed they were all part of the great survival game. Moments like these flooded my mind with memories of traditions passed down through generations. While chuckling at the irreplaceable bond we shared—especially my ongoing quest to not starve or poison myself!
🌿Reconnecting with Family
I joined in wherever I could—fetching water, helping in the garden, and preparing food. It felt grounding to contribute, to live not as a visitor but as part of the family. Walking barefoot, sitting on the floor mats, and eating from shared dishes reminded me of the life I once took for granted, now cherished more than ever.
Time with my extended families was another highlight of my stay. The warmth of their welcome, the shared meals, and the lively conversations made me feel instantly at home. We reminisced, caught up on life, and simply enjoyed being in each other’s company. Despite the miles that often separate us, I was reminded that family ties remain strong, unshaken by time or distance.
🛠️Life in the Village
Life in the village is super chill, simple but vibrant, highlighting the strong connection with the land that hold the community together. Days are filled with the awesome smell of food cooked over an open fire. Kids are running around barefooted, laughing and playing, bringing energy to the open space, while the soothing sounds of nature—chirping birds, rustling leaves, and a distant stream—create a peaceful vibe that washes over you. Every moment reminds me of the beauty in these little yet meaningful experiences that make my time in Inuma so special.
Daily routines revolve around tending to gardens, cooking over open fires, and sharing food with family. One of the things that stood out to me was the way the community lives and works together. Whether it was cultivating new gardens, preparing the soil, or planting crops, everyone had a role to play. Men and women shared the duties side by side, each contributing their strength and skills for the benefit of all. Watching families come together in this way reminded me of the deep sense of unity and cooperation that defines village life—where helping one another isn’t a choice, but a way of living. I found myself appreciating the slower pace—no rush, no overwhelming noise—just the quiet beauty of living with the basics and valuing what truly matters
I found myself slipping back into the village routine effortlessly. Daily routines revolve around tending to gardens from early mornings to noon, fetching water from the cool, clear stream that flows nearby (There’s no such thing as a water tap here), sharing meals prepared with fresh vegetables from the garden with families, and lounging around in the warm evenings swapping stories.
Life here is not rushed, no overwhelming noise; it’s lived one moment at a time. It’s just a slower pace that allows you to savor each moment. I found myself appreciating stillness, the fresh air, and the chance to live without the constant hum of modern distractions. That’s the beauty of Inuma—it keeps you grounded and reminds you that happiness doesn’t come from material things, but from togetherness, laughter, and the simple joys of communal life.
As I stepped through the threshold, memories of my childhood flooded back. Every path I walked reminded me of childhood days, barefoot adventures, and the lessons taught not in classrooms but under the shade of trees and around the evening fire.
I joined the community in daily chores and village work. There’s a rhythm here—a shared life, where everyone contributes, everyone matters. It reminded me why village life shaped who I am today.
🌿A Journey of Reflection
When I look back on my childhood, the memories of village life remain some of the most beautiful and meaningful experiences of my journey. Growing up in the village was more than just a way of life – it was a school of wisdom, tradition, and survival. Every day was a lesson, and every chore carried its own story.
As children, our world was shaped by the land and its rhythm. Unlike the modern life of screens and gadgets, we had the garden, the bush, the rivers, and the wide open spaces as our playgrounds. The garden was not just a place to plant food; it was the heart of village life where families worked side by side, sharing laughter, stories, and even silence under the hot sun.
One of the first lessons we learned was how to care for the garden. Our parents taught us how to plant yams, taro, and cassava. Bananas were a staple, and I can still remember wrapping them with leaves to protect them as they grew – a simple but important task that made us proud to contribute. These small lessons instilled in us patience, responsibility, and appreciation for hard work.
The forest was another teacher. It was there we learned which trees were strong enough to be cut down for digging sticks. Not every tree was suitable; elders knew exactly which kind had the right balance of strength and flexibility. With their guidance, we crafted digging sticks – the most trusted tool in the garden – from the right wood. Each stick carried the touch of our hands, shaping us into young gardeners ready to help our families.
There were days when we would leave for the garden at sunrise and return only as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Those long hours of planting, weeding, and harvesting were not a burden but a natural part of life. We learned endurance, teamwork, and the rhythm of nature itself. Our bare feet carried us across soil that fed us, while our hands worked tirelessly to ensure food on the family table.
What seemed like daily chores at the time have now become cherished memories. Village life taught us resilience – that food doesn’t just appear on the table but is born from sweat, patience, and care. It was a lifestyle built on community, where everyone played a part, and the reward was not only in the harvest but in the bonds formed along the way.
Today, when I reflect on my village life, I realize how much it shaped me. The lessons from the garden, the wisdom of our elders, and the hard yet fulfilling days spent from sunrise to sunset are treasures I continue to carry. Village life was never about luxury – it was about learning, surviving, and appreciating the simple joys.
Embracing village life means embracing roots that never fade, no matter how far we travel or how much the world changes. Those memories remain a foundation – a reminder of where I come from and the strength that will always guide me.
👋Saying Goodbye
All too soon, it was time to leave. Heading back to Australia, I carried more than groceries. I carried laughter, memories, love, and a deep connection to my roots. Inuma reminded me: home isn’t just a place—it’s the people, the traditions, and the love that stays with you forever.
Leaving Inuma village was not easy. As I said goodbye to my mum, sister, and relatives, I carried with me a deep sense of gratitude. After four unforgettable days, brimming with laughter, culture, and breathtaking landscapes, The laughter, the stories, and the quite moments of village life had filled me with a peace I seldom find elsewhere. It was finally time to return to Port Moresby and eventually fly back to Australia. Leaving was truly heart-wrenching—the village has a way of wrapping itself around your heart, a gentle tug that resonates deeply within your soul.
As I packed my belongings, I couldn’t help but reflect on the warm smiles of the locals, their kind hospitality, and the vibrant stories shared around the evening fires that fostered such a sense of belonging. Yet, amid the sadness, I carried with me the immense joy of seeing my mum once more, the treasured reconnection with family that brought back memories of our roots, and the cherished moments of living like a true local again, immersed in traditions that felt both foreign and familiar. This experience not only enriched my understanding of my heritage but also deepened my appreciation for the simpler, beautiful moments in life that often go unnoticed.
My trip to Inuma was more than a visit—it was a homecoming filled with nostalgia and warmth. As I stepped into the familiar embrace of my childhood surroundings, I was enveloped by the sights and sounds that shaped my early years. The vibrant colors of the local market, the laughter of children playing in the open space, and the comforting aroma of traditional dishes wafting from family kitchens all brought back cherished memories.
It was a reminder that no matter where life takes me, the village will always be the anchor that keeps me connected to my roots, grounding me in a deep sense of belonging and identity. The stories shared with neighbors and the tranquil sunsets over the hills became a testament to the enduring bond I have with this place, reinforcing my belief that home is not just a physical location but a feeling of love and connection that transcends distance.
My journey back home was a re-connection with my roots, my culture, and the people who mean the most to me. While I’ve returned to life in Australia, the spirit of Inuma remains with me, a constant reminder of where I come from and where I truly belong.
Because some places never let you go. And my village will forever be the place my heart calls home.
