Broke, Broken and Bee-token

Very few people ever venture too far away from home. It seems an accepted norm to live, work and die where one is born. That is the legacy of many a South African. To leave, for any reason - even the ones that make great logical sense, is dangerous. There is not enough infrastructure to sustain residents, let alone squatters in foreign residents' lands. This is the true narration of what happened in my own life at a time when I believed myself to be unconquerable.

I journeyed South, towards the Eastern Province. It was meant to be my victory expedition. I was meant to become far greater than I had already transformed in my own world. My world lies in distant Pretoria, in the North. What would bring a Northern child to the remote Eastern Province, many have asked. The reply to this is and always will be simple. I am in love.

I was in love before I left home - illusioned by the idea that perhaps she wished to be with me too. I believed - against all logic - that she and I could cheat the system together and make something like life happen. It could only be attained together, however, yet it seems there is truth in the sentiment that we are each of us born to die alone as the day on which we were born. Her birth took place nine months after my own. Exactly nine months after my soul occupied this body when it was new and embellished and perfect, her's entered into a shape that would someday lead me to homelessness.

My journey was worth every moment. Every moment spend in close proximity to her radiant presence filled my heart with joy and youth and so much more. Were the choice mine to make, I would wake up beside her every day and kiss her. I would kiss her as though certain that I would die that very morning. I would kiss her with such a passionate ferocity that were I to die that day, I would have at least died with her breath on my tongue. Anything more than that out of this world would be a fantastical bonus.

I have found far less than that, however. I have found a heart that is not ready to embrace my own. How can it be, when I am only that person worth thinking about and dreaming about when they are too far away to embrace and make love to. Being someone else's fantasy is as dangerous as having fantasies in a worldly context which lack the fundamental teachings in practising imagination and learnings on how to bring fantasies to real life.

The day loomed where I would once more have to say goodbye. I both looked forward to that day, and dreaded it. It meant one thing and one thing only: death to my very self as it was. Death of a person's spirit is never painless. Although the body is intact, navigating it around becomes the most painful experience known to man - as one roams with an acute sense of awareness that all they have tried to do has failed.

Living with failure is easy. Getting over the pain of failure is easy. Leaving behind one's entire identity, on the other hand, is painful and will leave you begging to die. Perhaps that is what must be done: a collective wish to die.

As far as happy beginnings go, this is one of the ones many cherish most. It is called a happy beginning because the unhappy ending is usually proceeded by a happy beginning. That is the law of Karma. It would have been far happier with her by my side, I dare imagine. Without her, on the other hand, it will be just fine.

I will never forget the passionate aura she projected when her lips locked with another right before my eyes. It was not painful at all to watch, actually. Simply shocking to learn of the existence of another time zone where I did not exist in the least bit of ways as anything other than an emotional booster. That has and is likely to always be my role in her life should I remain in it. This, then, made the choice to cut her out that much simpler.

Loyalty is all we have. Our names, our honour, our codes of social justice - even if they only exist on paper - are all we have. Should they be burned away in a moment of poorly thought out action, then those on either side of the bridge should leave that place and journey forward at no expense.

Forward lead me to you. And so I have chosen to tell you all of this in advance, so when we next meet again you are not surprised by the shameful presence that meets you. It will not be his shame persists but your own. How far have you dared to step out of your comfort zone to grow into the being that you were born to be? How long will it take you to first transform yourself so you can be a part of the growing nation of transformed beings?

Who are you?

What are you?

Do you make sense?

Why are you still reading?

To answer these questions is simple: put words on paper. The hard thing is hearing yourself between those words: in the spaces, between each letter, where the sounds reside ... that is where we find ourselves every moment of every day. This is where I will stay.