1
This is no journey for old men. We have
too many entanglements, too many
memories. Too arduous to travel
south through a whole day or a whole night,
yet with too little time for unresolved,
unresolvable enigmas, day and night:
a single camel train in the Sahara;
sporadic bonfires in the Congo.
2
Whether Heathrow, Charles De Gaulle or Schipol,
after Security’s uncertainty,
there is the glare of Departures with its
faux glamour, its gimcracks, its gewgaws,
its profligacy – the entire world
to fly to. And the briefest moment
to observe the human condition:
our gestures, our rage, our laughter, our stories.
3
The clocks tick quickly at the world’s centre.
We must suddenly rush – into relentless,
blank walled, silent tunnels – excoriating
the effort and tedium of travel.
Yet the temporary optimism of take-off
revives – that two hundred tons and more
can ease into air, almost like a bird,
with all of manicured Europe beneath us!
4
As the undercarriage whirrs open and locks,
I remember the purpose of my journey,
thinking of the friends who are waiting,
whose struggles I can only imagine,
their stories monuments. So Joburg, Jozi,
the City of Gold does become ‘a country
for old men’ – who have lived long enough
to see, at last, a little justice done!
By David Selzer