Jubilee's narratives - arrival

Arrival I. Jubilee [acute psychiatric ward, to be treated]

The phoenix palms welcome me back - I've been here so many times. I know the drill, I can be calm now, it's my home. Hoki mai ki te wā kāinga.

The outdoor courtyard is where I go, if they have one. Day or night, sitting outside with my eyes closed hearing only the sounds of bees and cicadas, or crickets, smelling the warm earth of the garden, and feeling the heat of the sun or the fresh night air on my bare skin. I imagine I'm somewhere far away from the hospital with it's glaring walls and shiny floors. I'm back on the land, at the river me and my brother used to play in. I can almost smell the ozone and feel the water rushing around my feet griping the smooth river stones.

I'm led inside where needles prick then sweet pharmaceutical release dampens all those thoughts in my head, the mantras which hold me up and stop the collapse. But I can fall here. It's safe.

Arrival II. Jubilee [kingseat, to live]

I've been here before. The trees, the colours and stern mouth of the building from memories of when I was still just a scared kid. Later the buildings were modern and bland. But I'd always be taken to the side entrance, the one for loonies. This time we keep driving right around to the back, to a different looking entrance but I know it'll be the same inside. They all are. I always eventually end up in a place like this.

They talk to me with dignity and respect here, not like some mental patient. I like that. But I don't need the props, I can walk by myself. They take me upstairs (upstairs?) to my new home - we're up in the sky, I can see so much up here, I'm part of the sky looking down on all those other people. Like Maui. I feel so light up here. The path slopes and is paved with smooth round stones and walking needs my concentration. The sound of rushing water somewhere (where?) - perhaps I'm imagining a river. Cicadas, and pigeons. A new place.

They tell me there's space for my whanau to stay with me sometimes, whenever I want. But not for good, aye, anyhow they wouldn't like staying too long in a loony bin - it's not really though, I guess. Doesn't feel like one up here.

Glancing up the next flight of stairs I catch a glimpse of something and the jittering in my fingers slows. There are 2 people up there sitting in the sun, playing chess...