We sneak out the way we came, one last look back to paint the canvas of our memories with this special place. And then we’re off, three musketeers trudging this red clay and gravel road. “If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will stare into you.” I stare deep into the pine forests by the road. Their thick, bushy blue pine needles block out the sun, the ferns below know not of its warm rays. We think of the abyss as a darkness, however I believe it is not, it is a longing, it is your hearts desire. As I stared down through the mist of the pines, a longing came forth, and there I stood, my desires known to me, my passions alive, my hopes taking flight. Behind us the clouds are plumes of red fire, the mountains have turned to volcanos, erupting with light, the God’s (whoever they may be) give us direction.
The mysticism I feel here flares now, a black Stallion, a small white spot sits between its eyes (perhaps a great Indian Queen in a past life), stamps the ground and slaps its tail and nods its head in a greeting to us travellers as we pass. We wave and give our respects too. Silently staring his soul beckons us, a sign, a coincidence, does it matter, this animal is beautiful and wise and ancient.
The African evening has the locals walking these long roads home. We merrily greet them and they return the greeting with even more enthusiasm, here that is almost expected. A Xhosa woman unprecariously balancing a giant bag on her head descends towards us on this hill. We get close, a large smile on her face, a tuft of beard on her chin. Siyavuya means all encompassing happiness. She is the word. “Molo, Sissy” we call out, she replies. Victoria chuckles and asks,”You have a long way to go?” Then speaking through the warmest laugh I’ve ever heard her soft, deep Xhosa voice tells us: ”Same as you!” An omen, this woman is magic. She is not talking of the road, in her voice ancient wisdom echoed. Her message is so subtle that only we who can now see magic can hear it too. She spoke of a life that I am to live, a future that will rise as high as these mountains and dip as low as the valleys below. An omen. We were blessed with luck, we are blessed, I am blessed. With me on this road are two friends, the one the greatest I’ve ever known, the other I have now a strong and lasting friend.
Finally we pass through a column of Ents, standing guard of this precious town. Monkeys again jump over our heads as if saying goodbye, I wish them well on their future escapades. Sandile, a man whose mind would not be considered fine by medical standards, walks with us for the last stretch. He explains his life in english, and while not perfect, is illuminating in a way proper english often fails to be. He tells me, this madman, as I see him out with beer and cigarette in hand, that: “You must make them believe you don’t know!” Followed with a wink, and there I see the fog cleared from his mind, there is clarity to his thoughts. This soft hearted fellow knows there is much he can’t explain or understand, but by those around him believing that, he manages to see everything, he hear’s everything, he knows everything.
That night we drink wine, smoke the reefer, lie under the stars and talk away. We drift off to sleep, warm in each others company. It rains in the middle of the night, rudely interrupting my dreams, I jump up and back into the tent. The rain doesn’t stop for the next day, we are soaked and have no time left. We pack our things solemnly, afraid of losing this magic.
We return to where we started this journey about three weeks prior, at Wild Spirit backpackers. We feel at home there and it is good to return and see it one last time before we get back to Cape Town. Our friends jump for joy at our arrival, and with no energy to set up camp again we book ourselves into the forest lodge. It’s peaceful there and an actual bed is a welcome comfort, although now I’m home I long for the camping life. We listen to the musicians staying there play. We dance and dance. Late that night we go to bed. My life is changed. Our lives are changed.
The morning I am granted one last beacon of luck from this journey. Weeks ago I lost my beads, silly things but to my superstitious mind, they give me luck. I was sad to have lost them. Lo and behold, as I make coffee that morning who but the woman behind the counter has them on her arm, she had become attached but she gladly gives it back. We settle in for one last haul, we are on our way back home. None of us really want to return, but money is gone, and theres nothing we can do.
Being back I am energised by this trip, but I’m afraid that I’ll lose the passion and everything I worked towards in my soul. I feel as if this trip allowed me to grow from adolescent to man, whilst still keeping the youthful exuberance that I had felt I had lost. There is so much for me to do now, creativity seeps out my pores. I wake each day with an understanding of what I must do, what I must accomplish. I don’t really believe that we can come to these understandings in the city, we must immerse ourselves in nature, we must seek friendships, we must look to the new day with brighter eyes. I now know that is possible for each and every one of us that inhabits this planet.
The Grand Feeling: I don’t really want to shake These feelings of this girl I wish I could date. You see, It’s this false dichotomy. I wonder what gets hold of me. When I’m with her my words seize. What matters though, Is with her I could travel the worlds sea’s. In silence, and she’ll know my words
Its that first ranging step, no leap! So that she can feel my first true heartbeat Stuck in between now and next time Her silhouette matched by mine As we patrol the streets Our only warmth is our shared heat
Oh what a human she must be To make a man feel truly free If ever her soul would catch the bait I lay From her, to me, to us today If life is love then we’re ok If life is love, then we’ll be ok.