How to Survive Travel to Foreign Territories

A Concise List

1. Never catch feelings in a foreign country. 

1.1. If you catch feelings, surrender them at the airport. Leave them with half-drunken bottles of water, too-large for hand-luggage hand creams, seeds, agricultural products, meat products, and folded-up pamphlets of places you will never visit. 

1.1.1. If that fails, remember to forget his name - like the taste of the water, the smell of the airport, and the name of that place you happened upon drunk, or lost. The name of that place with the dancing lights and balmy wind; with that music that filled with your lungs; the salt-water and sunblock smell. The name of that place that found a new world inside you; that made you feel free. That place you will never visit again. Forget him like your forgot that name. Let him exist as an outline, or a blur, a rush of excitement, a there-thing. Not a here-thing. You are here now, not there. Get busy at work. 

1.1.1.1. If that fails, brace yourself for a slow death. Count the words in his messages. Count your words. Open a ledger. Balance his words against yours. Measure the distance between your "Hello" and his "Good Night"; your xx and his <3; his "Message Read" and your "Message Received". Measure the heat of his virtual kisses, the intensity of his longing. Measure the distance between dreams and realities. Measure every thing.

1.1.1.1.1. Realize the truth of the measurements one night. Drink red wine tinged with the salt of your travel-love tears. Play Hoobastank, Coldplay, John Legend in quick succession. Fall asleep on the couch.

1.1.1.1.1.1. Pour silence into your phone. Aim it upwards or in the direction of his city or at a picture of his face. Channel all the silence you can muster. Let him be overwhelmed by a tsunami of silence. Write a blank text message to him. Don't send it. Let him ache for your attentions. Deny him them. (Wonder if he is doing the same thing, or whether he noticed). Tell your friends how useless he is. (Know that he is not . Just human, and far). Concede nothing. Delete his number.

1.1.1.1.1.1.1. Forget him for months.

1.1.1.1.1.1.1.1. Remember him one night, drunk, and wonder what the fuck you were doing catching feelings in a foreign country. You were being ridiculous. Rookie Error. Never again. 

Do it again.

2. Pack lots of underwear - repeating underwear is undignified.

Khona

Where is my love?

Please return it

To where you found it.

I want it to return

To me from that place

Bring it back,

bring it back,

I want it back.

I have been loving this video because it is a conversation. New York Ball Scene gays with bo mme ba Lesotho are chatting about Ndebele art and Sarafina through Kwaito beats and Salif Keita's haunting wailing. These are just my associations, I am sure different people see/hear different things. 

As always, I am late to the party. I am sure others have finished writing about how awesome all of everything in this video is. I discovered the translation late. (Sometimes I purposefully fail to listen to the words of songs I love. I have been disappointed too many times - looking at you Beyonce.)

I also missed the poignancy of this song.  You wouldn't think that they are mourning a bandmember, a mother, a child, and a lover. You wouldn't think it is a song about death. It seems to be.

I guess it makes sense that it is as upbeat as it is tragic. Because we are a singing people. When we are happy we sing, when we are sad, we sing. When we are hungry or tired or bored, we sing.