Looking back, my journey across Sri Lanka, New Zealand, and now Australia has been less about crossing borders and more about expanding the idea of who I am.

Running alongside paddy fields, crossing streams, and flying kites were the rhythms of my childhood—moments I often revisit in memory to feel at home. The little stories we created and acted out during those carefree days remain some of my most cherished memories. But that chapter began to close when I moved to Colombo in pursuit of higher education. In my early twenties, a fascination with the film ‘The Lord of the Rings’, which still holds a special place in my heart—carried me across continents to the distant shores of New Zealand. I spent nearly all of my twenties there, growing, learning, and evolving. Now, I find myself in Australia, a new chapter, a new home—one that holds the echoes of all the places I’ve been.

What does it mean to belong to more than one place?

Growing up in Sri Lanka, the values of family, community, and social harmony were the cornerstones of my upbringing. Age and status carried weight, instilling in me a deep respect for elders and a quiet humility that shaped how I moved through the world. Visitors often speak of the warmth and generosity they experience in Sri Lanka—qualities that, to me, have always felt instinctive, woven into the everyday fabric of life. Religion and tradition were ever-present, guiding everything from daily rituals to grand celebrations, with Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, and Christianity each leaving their mark on the cultural landscape.

New Zealand, when I arrived, welcomed me with a quiet grace. The landscapes felt like something out of a dream—perhaps because I had already wandered through them in my imagination, thanks to Tolkien’s world. But beyond the cinematic beauty, it was the people, the pace, and the profound respect for nature and culture that began to shape me in new ways. I learned to slow down, to listen more deeply, and to appreciate the subtle strength of simplicity. The Māori concept of whanaungatanga—a sense of kinship and connection—resonated with the communal spirit I had grown up with in Sri Lanka, though it carried its own unique rhythm. In those years, I wasn’t just adapting to a new country; I was expanding the boundaries of who I was.

In many ways, Sri Lankan and Kiwi cultures sit on opposite ends of a spectrum, yet they share surprising harmonies that made my transition feel both challenging and comforting. In Sri Lanka, life is deeply communal—family ties are strong, and decisions are often made with the collective in mind. In New Zealand, while individualism is more pronounced, there’s still a quiet but powerful sense of community.

One of the more subtle challenges I faced after leaving Sri Lanka was learning to communicate differently. I quickly realized that communication carried a different tone. I had grown up in a culture where indirectness, politeness, and the avoidance of confrontation were seen as virtues. Stepping into new cultural spaces meant unlearning some of that instinct, and learning instead to speak more openly, more directly—something that didn’t come naturally at first. At first, I found myself hesitating in conversations, unsure if I was being too reserved or too vague. In Sri Lanka, we often spoke in suggestion and implication, allowing meaning to unfold gently. In New Zealand, people said what they meant, but rarely with harshness and wrapped in quiet humility. There was a calm, almost understated honesty in the way Kiwis communicated—straightforward, but not confrontational. Over time, I came to appreciate this clarity. It taught me to express myself more openly, to value transparency, and to trust that honesty could coexist with kindness.

Australia arrived in my life at a point when I least expected it to and was not with the quiet grace of New Zealand or the deep-rooted familiarity of Sri Lanka, but with a vibrant, sprawling energy all its own. It felt bigger—louder, faster, more diverse, especially having moved from Christchurch, New Zealand. The blend of cultures and languages on every street corner, the unapologetic directness in conversation was a whole different experience for me that among all I started to notice a sense of openness and a willingness to let people be who they are.

In many ways, Australia felt like a mirror, reflecting back the different parts of me I had gathered along the way. The Sri Lankan in me found comfort in the strong migrant communities, reconnected with friends from school and the shared stories of resilience. The New Zealander in me appreciated the laid-back lifestyle and the love for the outdoors. And then there was something new emerging—an identity shaped not just by where I had been, but by where I was now.

The Aussie way taught me to speak with confidence but with care. To embrace the casualness of Aussie culture without losing the depth of my roots. Australia hasn’t replaced the homes I’ve known—it’s added to them. Over the years I’ve learnt to embrace change, and rather than belonging to one place, I’ve learned to belong to many.

Looking back, my journey across Sri Lanka, New Zealand, and now Australia has been less about crossing borders and more about expanding the idea of who I am. Identity, I’ve come to realise, isn’t fixed—it’s fluid, layered, and constantly evolving. It’s shaped by the languages we speak, the values we carry, the places we leave, and the ones we learn to call home.

For a long time, I searched for a singular answer to the question, ‘Where do I belong?’ But now, I find comfort in the complexity. I am Sri Lankan in my roots, Kiwi in my outlook, and Australian in my present. Each place has left its imprint, not by replacing the last, but by adding to it. I’m proud to say that I have found a deeper sense of belonging, not a flag or a postcode, but the journey itself.

By Buddhima Wickramarachchi – Melbourne