Rented Roofs, Shared Spaces, and Finally Ours: The Story of Home

Home has never been just a place to sleep. From the cramped wardens’ quarters in Nganglam to the bustling townhouse in Melbourne, each home has been a chapter of life, full of lessons, laughter, and love. Every move carried a mix of excitement and uncertainty, shaping who I am and how my family grew. These walls have witnessed first steps, late-night talks, celebrations, and quiet moments of reflection. Living in each place taught me that home is not about size or comfort, but about the people, memories, and life you build within it.

NGANGLAM

In January 2005, as a fresh graduate, I set up my first home in Nganglam. It was the wardens’ quarter inside the boys’ hostel, shared with a colleague. I had only the bare necessities: a luggage bag, some clothes and shoes, a few books, and a music station. There was no rent, but caring for the boys gave the space purpose.

Two years later, I moved across a small stream to a staff quarter. My students helped carry my belongings up and down the infamous steps of Nganglam High School. The building had four small units, each occupied by friends. My unit had a tiny bedroom, an even smaller kitchen, and a modest living room. There was a balcony, mostly decorative, and a bathroom annex. Rent was minimal, and despite the size, laughter and visits from friends made it feel like home.

ORONG

A year later, I moved to Orong, into a small, traditional one-storey shack overlooking the boys’ hostel. The rooms were windy and airy, barely shielding me from the weather. I shared the space with an elderly expatriate teacher who took the outer room. Cooking happened in our own space. I felt proud of a large TV and a desktop computer, though the outdoor toilet with bamboo-mat walls and a rug as a door reminded me constantly of the hardships.

The next year, I moved to the annex-room of the wardens’ quarter. One room, indoor plumbing, and a makeshift kitchen beside a desk made it functional. Living alone, friends often dropped by for meals and drinks. One night, the space turned into a party venue, with music, games, and laughter stretching into the morning.

Soon after, I moved into a proper staff quarter: two bedrooms, an ensuite, a common toilet, a dedicated kitchen with pantry, and a spacious living room with a small balcony. At first alone, a friend later joined, and three years on, a woman moved in, marking the start of a shared life.

GASELO

After five years in Orong, I transferred to Gaselo with my then-wife. We moved into the ground floor of a village house with mud-rammed walls, an outdoor water tap, and a pit latrine. There was no bathroom, so we bought a large tub to bathe in the kitchen. Despite the lack of modern conveniences, we made it home, and facing challenges together strengthened our bond. Weekend markets in Bajo was the highlight of my stay there.

BUMTHANG

A year later, I moved to Bumthang, Jakar, as Vice Principal. The VP quarter was a dream compared to previous places: two bedrooms, a large living room, an ensuite, a grassy yard, and a view that never failed to amaze. There was also a huge annex where my laundry hung and empty beer bottles accumulated.

I lived there alone for three to four years. My then-wife had left Bumthang, so the house became a revolving door of friends, relatives, students, and parents - some invited, others just barging in. Cooking was rare; most meals happened in town or in the school mess. In those years, I met the woman who would become my future wife, the last person to stay for a longer period and truly make the house a home with me.

THIMPHU

After a job change, we moved to Thimphu Kalabazaar, living as guests in my wife’s brother’s rental apartment. With a newborn daughter, four of us shared a single bedroom, making it cramped, especially when relatives visited. It became clear we needed our own space.

We shifted to the top floor of a five-storey building in Changzamtog. No lift, unreliable water, and a steep footpath climb made daily life challenging. But it was ours. Space to grow, a home where our son and daughter could laugh freely, and enduring difficulties together strengthened our family.

Two years later, we moved to Jungshina, renting a flat from a friend’s in-laws. Two bedrooms, an ensuite, a common toilet, a balcony, and 24/7 water made it comfortable. The living room was wide and welcoming, and at last, life felt settled. But it didn't last long.

MELBOURNE

In early 2020, we relocated to Melbourne. My wife’s cousin generously offered their home in Albion, giving up their bedroom so we could have proper space. As more relatives arrived, the house grew crowded, prompting a search for a larger home.

We rented a three-bedroom house with a huge garage. Each had a room, and the living and dining areas were spacious. Still, it was communal, so care was needed not to disturb anyone. Soon after, we moved with relatives to their newly bought four-bedroom house in Diggers Rest. The backyard was spacious, the streets quiet.

Work eventually made commuting too tiring, so we moved to a one-bedroom unit near Essendon Station. Small but practical, the trains became a comforting background noise as we worked, studied, and built our life together.

In March 2023, we moved just two minutes away into a townhouse. Three bedrooms upstairs, a bright kitchen-dining space, and soon the rest of the family joined: my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, our children, and their grandfather. The house was full but comfortable. The children attended the local school, the area was quiet, well connected, and affordable.

Even with stability, rent reminded us the home wasn’t truly ours. As soon as permanent residency was granted, we explored buying a house. Diggers Rest made sense: familiar, quiet, and developing, with friends and relatives nearby, and convenient access to Sunbury, Taylors Lakes, and the city. After years of moving, we finally found a home of our own - a place for our children to grow and for boxes to finally stay unpacked.