Isn't it strange how the world changes on a sixpence ( as they used to say.) Boat People were supposedly desperate folk escaping the tyranny of despotic rule and now we have a whole new class of boat people: the citizens desperate to get " home. "

Waiting months or in some cases years to get back to hearth and home and feel the soil of " home "  between your toes yet unable to because our governments have decided that this is a rather bad idea.

Flights cancelled; restrictions imposed; tests, tests and more tests; waiting lists and uncertainty.

Last night, I tossed and turned as I thought of a family member so anxious to go home to New Zealand that he is prepared to pay for a berth on a private yacht and head off into the Tasman Sea and, all because he needs to go home.

That place where you feel a sense of relief and joy and can finally breathe out and think that this is where I belong.

For me, home is where my heart is and that is true for me here in Australia. Yet my relative has a home across the ditch and he wants to see it again, mow the lawns and open the windows of a house locked up and unloved for far too long .

There have been too many disappointments. Cancelled flights. Emails telling him that his pension has been cancelled because he has been away for too long. Messages from far distanced friends eager to catch up and have a chat around a bonfire by a lake somewhere in the alpine delights of that wonderful place he calls home.

He wants to see the lupins in bloom and smell the air that breathes life into his heart. He wants to hear the cicadas of summer and the sound of a familiar accent.

Oh, how the call of home cries to us all.

We often talk of being homesick, but I guess I never realised that homesickness is actually a real thing,. It is profoundly real and it gives an ache that no covid flu or bug can replicate. It is that call from across the ocean that is our borders  that tells you that NEED to come HOME. 

I have suffered from this virus of homesickness at times. It seeps in after about 3 months and soon becomes overpowering.

It may not be life threatening but it is - in its own particular way.

The old saying of " home is where the heart is " has become more important than ever before. 

We FEEL this call and NEED to answer it. 

No matter what, we simply must obey it when it gives the clarion cry.

My relative has had such a call. 

Despite a happy and fond time in Australia, he does not want to go home. He NEEDS to go home. And, if that means paying for a passage on a boat, sailing across the Tasman and paying for the privilege of  days of sea sickness, misery and storms, so be it. 

Some time ago, people battled to cross from Indonesia to Australia to get to a place of government handouts, welfare cheques and a new life in the land of plenty.

Now, our ANZAC brothers and sisters are buying passage across the Tasman to get back to the country that has abandoned them and, when they return, what will they have in store?

No ability to gather in the places that held fond memories from years past.

No ability to go to a gym or buy a coffee or have a chat with their friends because they are UNVACCINATED?

These new boat people are trying to go HOME. 

I wonder, however, if they will question what the hell they have done. 

Travelling across the Tasman to return to a place that no longer exists, except in their memories?

Queensland is a whole lot bigger than New Zealand. There are places to hide in both localities, but I have to wonder: Where do we run to when we cannot run anymore?

WE are the new boat people. Escaping tyranny. Only, these days, the passage across inclement seas is the least of our problems.

It is the destination that is most frightening.

No matter where we choose as our destination, is it any better than the one we escaped?

As a former Kiwi and a proud Australian, I can only lament that things just aren't what they used to be.

And, no matter how you try to get home, home, as we remember it, no longer exists.