Mounga Murmurings

He called to me across the sea. Soft murmurings in the wind and sometimes shouts and yells during storms.

I listened intently but the words never became clearer. The call made me restless, dissatisfied. My dreams were full of soft clouds, far away shores, seas, lush greenery, and wonder.

Africa undeniably has its own unmistakable harsh, vibrant beauty. Friends and whanau would marvel at the granite rocks of Domboshawa, the balancing rocks of Chiremba and the Chilojo Cliffs but I knew they were not for me. They reveled in the heat - sweaty, brown, and happy. I cursed my pasty skin that burnt and blistered in the sun. I hid away trying to stay cool and to keep my indifference from spilling out.

Family trips into the Bvumba misty mountains were a different matter entirely. My first trip there remains an oasis in my memory. The cool, fresh mountain air revived me. The lush greenery, ferns, streams, and waterfalls entranced me. His call grew clearer.

Eventually I left Zimbabwe and headed north. The more verdant, misty, and mountainous a place the stronger its appeal for me. This time away clarified that me and Africa were not meant to be. It simply didn’t have a hold on my heart. I longed to be free of it, to follow that call that I was sure would bring me home.

I was incredibly fortunate to be given the opportunity to begin a new life in Aotearoa. Tāmaki Makarau was a good starting point, and I slowly settled in. The hustle and bustle of the city muted the call that I still heard from time to time.

I made and lost friends, lost family members flung across te Ao and nearly drowned in oceans of grief. In time I made (and kept) new friends and found a wonderful partner who, despite being incredibly smart, decided to marry me. Life was busy, busy, busy so brushing aside the whispers on the wind calling me elsewhere was easy.

I wanted to explore my new home, and we would go adventuring every chance we could. We learnt that I had a propensity for falling violently, head-over-heels in love with towns and cities we visited, much to my partners amusement. Taupō, Greytown and Waipukurau were my top picks on Te Ika-a-Māui for the longest time, whilst Akaroa and Blenheim pulled at my heart from Te Waipounamu.

Whilst adventuring the truth of Newton’s Third Law of Motion was proven when Huntly, Hamilton, Tauranga and Nelson evoked a deep and fervent dislike in me for them - for no discernable reason in their defense.

Over the years coming home to Auckland became less and less enjoyable. I found the noise, smells and frantic energy of the city draining and missed dark, starry skies alongside peace and quiet.

We were looking for a new place to explore and one of my dearest friends wanted to show us around her hometown of Whanganui. We decided to travel along the Forgotten Highway and knock about the ‘Naki’ a bit on the way there.

Of course, we visited the independent republic Whangamōmona - I mean a town who appointed a goat as its mayor was iconic in every way! I loved the dense bush, especially the tree ferns. The cool fresh air was a welcome change to the humidity and heat of Auckland, and it was a welcome reminder of my trips to the Bvumba.

A late afternoon stroll around Stratford proved to be unexpectedly life changing. As we came to the corner of Warwick Road and State Highway 3 I turned my head to the right to check the road was clear and bam!

He was glorious!

Absolutely stunning!

He completely took my breath away and that was it – love at first sight. We continued our walk, and he started a game of hide and seek. I’d walk along, he’d be gone and then suddenly pop out from behind a building or round a corner shouting “Surprise!” - ‘obvs’ in my imagination or the geographical world would be ‘shook’ by a talking stratovolcano.

We had such a great time, and I delighted in his playfulness. I rushed out to see him the next morning, but he was nowhere to be seen, just a sea of fluffy clouds where he’d been. I didn’t see him again that trip but as is the case with true love, I couldn’t get him out of my head or heart.

I saw Ruapehu and Tongariro and whilst incredibly impressive, their betrayal of Taranaki diminished them in my eyes. I was angry at Ruapehu on his behalf! How could she hurt him like that?! It made Taranaki even more lovable to me – stoically enduring his heartbreak so bravely. Swoon worthy stuff!

Fast forward five years and we were all trying to grapple with the Covid pandemic. Lockdown provided plenty of opportunities for reflection and evaluation amidst panic and fear; alongside the second epidemic of sourdough and fancy frothy coffees that no-one was talking about.

A quiet, slow Auckland was a revelation. The air quality improved dramatically. We heard bird song again. Standing together against Covid created a sense of community I hadn’t felt in Auckland before. We felt safer than we had in a long time as gang activity and crime was curtailed during lockdown. Ironic how a terrible disease literally stealing people’s breath let Auckland catch its breath, and the energy of the city calmed down.

We mourned the unfathomable losses caused by Covid near and far, whilst privately mourning a personal loss – we knew our time in Auckland was drawing to a close. We just didn’t want to live there any longer and the mounga was calling me home.

I found on Trade Me my Enid Blyton-esque influenced dream house in South Taranaki which most importantly had a view of the mounga. Thankfully my amazing husband mysteriously agreed with all my nonsense, and moving plans were hatched.

Now we all know how the romance novel tropes work......and there are always obstacles encountered stopping the course of true love running smoothly that need overcoming, and we found ours. We put our Auckland house on the market with impeccable timing, coinciding with serious weekend floods and a sluggish real estate market. Lack-lustre attendance at our open homes piled on the stress and it seemed like our mountain move wouldn’t happen. My love affair with Taranaki seemed doomed.

But then as hope was curled up moaning and whimpering in the corner, after five long months we got a sale, secured the dream house and were moving!!!! As is appropriate in a love story it was a real whirlwind and a few weeks later we were driving towards our new home.

For as long as I can remember I was always restless and unsettled to varying degrees, because the murmurings were telling me I hadn’t found home yet. Aotearoa was right, but Auckland wasn’t. We knew how lucky we were to own a home in Auckland, but I just never felt like it was ‘home-home’ - just a temporary home even though we lived there for fifteen years! But I walked into our new home near my mountain and all the murmurings stopped. The restlessness was gone, and I knew in my soul that I was finally exactly where I should be. I felt like the house was embracing me, welcoming us in. I was “home-home”.

We’ve recently celebrated our first “Taranaki-versary” and life here is so good. It’s a joy to be with my mountain and learn more about him. I bought an old pew for our deck and from that pew what a view he provides!

I adore his fashion sense and he’s constantly surprising me with the ‘lewks’ he puts together. He can look breath-takingly regal wearing his korowai around his perfectly sloping shoulders or when it is streaming out behind him. He is equally stunning when he is cloud-free simply standing there in his glorious naturalness.

Sometimes he’s sad. He swaddles himself up in swathes of clouds and hides away for days. Other times he’s shy – hiding away behind a voluminous scarf of clouds, popping in and out briefly to take a peek around, before ducking back down into the safety of his scarf.

And oh boy sometimes he’s all drama, parading around in bouffant, bouncy wig clouds that Ru-Paul would be envious of, with an endless range of gorgeous floaty, frothy capes and trains trailing along behind.

There’s also the demure boy, sitting calmly wearing his cap looking like butter wouldn’t melt, as if! And let’s not forget when he’s angry, fierce and scary, flexing his volcano muscles piling angry-looking clouds showing his temper boiling over.

But my favourite side of him continues to be the quirky, playful, goofy guy I played hide and seek with in Stratford all those years ago, which he cracks out from time to time. On a recent trip to Hawera, he sat there being all serious, ignoring the huge pile of marshmallow he had on his head! Hilarious!

I love how I hear and see him so clearly now. He lets me see myself more clearly and accept what I see. He’s the perfect kaiako showing me how to simply be and to just be myself. Challenging lessons to be sure but worthwhile to study. I’m so grateful that he called me home. Home is where the heart is it turns out.

Ngā mihi nui ki a koe. Huge gratitude to you Taranaki and all the wonderful, warm people living around you who make this such a fantastic place to call home.