A Rented Life
Land has been a point where we start and end a journey. It is where I was born. It is where I have grown as a person who struggle for my dreams and those of others.
In more than 20 tumultuous years, I have nurtured my body and nourished my soul as I continuously make a home out of a tiny room, that at other times stood atop of other tiny rooms. I may not own the very land where these rooms rest, but I owe much to it.
However difficult the practical negotiations over this land, including those that pertain to the boundaries between the public and my own private space may be, I persistently thrive with whatever agency I have so that enough agency will be born the next day.
Although I have been financially useful to my parents and later my land lady, everyday the prospects of being evicted scare me and everyday I dream more and more of my own home.
My home has a garden where I tend some fruits and vegetables in ways that my friends from farming and indigenous communities do. It is built within a peaceful and diverse community. I would not wish to live in solitude on a mountain or in an island nor own a mansion among several mansions in a secured community. For land is not so much about ownership but stewardship.
It is a journey of struggles. Land is life.