Travel thoughts

 

At the boarding gate

Standing in a queue and the man in front of me unintentionally seduces me with the smell of cigarettes. I start to shift closer, millimetre by millimetre. I gaze at every part of him: his hair has been gelled back and it makes the strands clump together and run like ripples, like waves; his ears are the red of fresh tomatoes, I don’t get why; his back is dome-shaped and I want to fall into it and inhale all the cigarette smoke out.

A young mother has been charged with the impossible task of handling her daughter. The child has run away from her, has been crying about her father since they were at the check in point, touched an Indian lady’s hair, and has forced her mother to apologise to countless people for her behaviour. I feel bad for the mum, but her child is but a child.

I’m looking at the eyes of everyone at this boarding gate, thinking about how eyes can be so beautiful and enchanting.

There are so many beautiful people in the world and 80% of them reside in airports.

On the second plane

I watch a beautiful Indian film, released in 1982, called Arth. It follows a pitiful housewife called Pooja who goes on a journey to become independent. In the movie, the women all determine their fates and break free from the sweet lie and bitter truth of the institution of marriage. They realise that marriage destroys their personhood and leaves them completely at the mercy of their husbands; to become full individuals with agency and an active role in their own lives, they kill the relationships they have with the men involved with them. I rate it 4 stars overall.

Immediately after watching Arth, I watch Félicité (2017), a Congolese movie following a strong woman who must bend her knees and sacrifice her dignity to take care of her injured son. Where Arth was a rather quiet movie, with very low and soft song, Félicité harshly comes alive with sound. This movie has so many moments that compel me to move my body and shake my waist, even in the tight airplane seat. Her singing is hypnotic and enchanting but not in the way where the voice moves sultrily with the promise of romance. Instead her voice is running around the compound with happiness in a basket on its hip. Her voice is searching for you, the listener, so it can pound glee and joy into your heart, through your ears, and you must follow it wherever for the delightful pounding. This movie is such an accurate portrayal of African life, and its relatability make it so much sadder because I, as an African watcher, can not even attempt to just separate myself from its events as a mere viewer. The environment Félicité is in closely resembles the one that environment that I can walk outside to find, her community looks like mine, I look at her face and see myself. Every embarrassment, every misfortune, hits me as it hits her but I am not strong enough and I turn the movie off. Of course, I rate it 5 complete stars.

I listen to Usher and Beyonce over and over again, in my sleep and in my wake, until the songs blend into a confusing mix of strong vocals and smooth beats.

 

At my destination

I start my first full day by 4am with using my phone, then properly start it by 6am by going on a walk in the cold morning air. The trees in America are very well organised and arranged. They stand in close lines and form a thick, leafy wall. Even when one of them collapses, the support of its brethren does not permit it to fall to the ground.  Their branches are typically rich with leaves and they tiptoe to the sky, but every now and then, there stands a humble tree with its head bowed and its leaves in my reach. I reach to touch some and I position myself to be caressed by the leaves of one the two times I pass by.

The flowers are all so new to me, I don’t know most their names and I am so excited to. So many new colours, shapes and quirks, my ignorance promises me so much opportunity for learning. There is a slim tree that produces a fruit/flower that would blend in better with a fictional word, rather than this real one we have. The fruit/flower has a red ball for a head, and on this this ball are smaller bumps that split open like wounds. Seeing this brings a grin to my face. I cannot wait for all the remaining days to come and pass…