The day began with intense pain. It was a welcome pain, a reminder that my journey had just begun.
I was lying on the hardwood floor of the New York Earth Center. Kyle lay nearby and Kasabez was lying next to the wall. At my head lay a man named Jacob, a brother from South Africa. I thought back to the drive from my home in Chicago to the Earth center here along interstate 90. The drive had been 13 hours. My companions were Nehez, Khefira, Kyle and my favorite driving tunes.
About 7 or 8 hours into the trip, we entered the Allegany Mountains and it began to snow. At the time, I had just been thinking what it must be like to drive through these mountains on snow-covered roads. The snow came down wet and sticky and it was inconsistent enough to require me to take precious attention away from my driving to manage the windshield wipers. The sun had gone down and since these roads were not so familiar to me, I really needed every bit of concentration to figure out where the next major incline or turn would be.
There were mostly 18 wheelers sharing the road with me at this time of night. Most of the time I could see well enough, but I must admit that I was surprised to be passed on the right by a semi traveling at more than 80 miles per hour. I guess they new the roads a lot better than me. Sometimes I was hemmed in, as the convoys found their way through the darkness, snow, rain and sleet. I was not frightened by this. It all seemed a great adventure. I had driven to New York before and I was so happy to finally be on my way to Merita.
I was tired. I had done all of the driving and it had been virtually non-stop, but this was my decision.
I began to slip in and out of consciousness. Though my eyes were open, I could recognize myself sliding into a fugue state somewhere between wakefulness and a dark tunnel of tiny lights rushing at me like fireflies parading in some unnatural precession.
I turned the music up loud and began to sing in full voice. I had The Police’s greatest hits in the CD player and I knew all the words. “How are you doing?” Nehez interrupted my serenade. “I just need to sing.” I replied.
Every song was five miles closer to our destination. “Roxanne”, “I Just Can’t Stand Loosin’ You”, “Message in a Bottle”, by the time I got to “Spirits In a Material World” I was wide awake and in fine form. My throat felt clear and my vocal control was good since I new these songs so well. I finished off The Police and then put in U2’s Greatest Hits from the 80’s. I was fine until we came to “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Lookin’ For”. This song brought back a flood of emotions. I began to cry.
Before I came to live with our community in Chicago within walking distance of Lake Michigan, I lived alone in a suburb of Chicago. I would drive to class after work and play this song. In my mind I changed the chorus to “I’ve finally found what I’m lookin’ for”. I later changed them back again, I realized that I am again searching, for the honesty within the midst of the questions, the cure to the “burning desire” that clouds my brain.
I stopped singing and just listened to the song as I replayed it again. I couldn’t sing anymore, and the fatigue began to snap at me again, like a crocodile reaching from the murky depths of the river of road markers rushing by me at 75 miles per hour. I was fighting for my consciousness again, but I realized that the death roll would not be mine alone, my friends would go down with me.
I started popping dark-chocolate covered coffee beans, and switched to “The Very Best of the Eagles”, but somehow my voice had left me. I couldn’t catch my breath. We passed into New Jersey on sheer force of will alone. My eyes began to blur and I realized that I still had the defrost on and it was drying out my eyeballs.
Kyle had been silent but awake all of this time. We had sailed through the Pocanoes on Steve Wonder at Nehez’s request. As we approached New York, Kyle seemed to come to life. “Are we gon’ see that lil’ statue?” he asked. “What statue?” someone replied. It could have been me. I was concentrating so hard that all I remember hearing was Khefira’s directions and Kyle prattling on about Tyra this or Tyra that. Kyle’s a “Next Top Model” groupie and his only wish was to catch a glimpse of her walking on the street somewhere in the big city.
Every other time I had driven in New York City, I had gotten lost. I don’t know if it was Khefira’s excellent directions or what, but we arrived at the EC without a hitch. As tired as I was at 2:30 AM in the morning, dragging our bags up the stairs, I found myself hungry for the curry that Menzeba had left for us on the stove. Zeba had arrived in New York ahead of us. I was thankful for the smell of the food that enlivened my mind once again.
Soon an African man came walking out of the shrine. He had on a sweat suit with a blue hoodie. His hair was close to his head in tiny little knots that reminded me of little beads. He smiled a humble smile and introduced himself as Jacob. I soon felt very comfortable with his company and imagined that we would become good friends.
Jacob is from South Africa. He had a lot of wonderful stories to share and he and some of the others and I spoke for a couple of hours before we finally laid down on the floor to sleep. I was struck by the openness with which he shared his experiences with us. Nehez was clearly excited to hear what he had to say. Jacob is a Zulu Ba’Ntu, and Nehez is fascinated by Ba’Ntu and Zulu culture. I have rarely seen him so excited. Jacob shared things with us that I had heard rumors of before, but somehow, coming from him as the common knowledge of his village, it had a new legitimacy.
I’m now 35,000 feet above the middle of the Atlantic, traveling at over 520 Miles per hour. We will arrive in Casablanca in 3 hours or so and I’ll try to get some sleep now.