i.
Clammed up, I’m an uncooked mussel as I board the bus. The lingering scent of passport checks fills the air, for we’re about to cross imaginary man-made borders.
ii.
Like a Latvian summer morning rain, I’m persistent. I insert myself into spaces and force people to make room for me, for I have packed enough cultural diversity to fill my days with nourishment. ‘Cause travelling while Black is an adventure on its own.
iii.
I’m fallible— I expect the worst, when people mean the best.
iv.
It’s not even Thursday, yet the storm rages all night and the next. All trees bow. The pine kneels before the God of Thunder, and waits for the oak’s plea for mercy.
v.
Lielupe river cries floods and Jūrmala roars accusingly, demanding I let my guard down. But I am a traveller; I have neither a goat nor a rooster to sacrifice.
vi.
I once heard milk is the food of the gods. So, my companion and I embark on a late-night quest for the fabled elixir of eternal life, only to find most shops closed. With determination, we intercept a man just as he is about to lock up for the day. We plead for a drop.
vii.
Alas! We have not the coins, for they are too heavy to carry. With our hopes dashed, we leave the place empty-handed.
viii.
Three, four steps away, we hear a voice calling. Convinced it’s not after our attention, we continue on our way, unaffected. Another couple steps closer and the voice louder, “Hello, friend!” My companion and I come to a halt, exchange a knowing glance, and prepare to be scammed.
ix.
Jurmala! I keep tripping myself, expecting to find deliverance in this place because Jumala means God in Finnish. Instead, I stumble upon kindness. “Here, friend! I trust these few droplets will suffice for your morning coffee,” says a stranger in the night, handing me a half-litre of milk.
x.
Shame remains vigilant, and early in the morn, I rush back to the shop to pay for kindness. No, the cashier won’t have it! “That was a gift from our chef,” she explains, “he overhead your pleas from the kitchen last night.” I’m at a loss for words. So, I absolve myself by stealing repeating some wise words I once heard, “My sincere thanks to the chef, who distributes the milk of human kindness. I hope he spills a little on himself.”
xi.
The smallest acts — the greatest impact — we are strangers no more.
xii.
A way of looking at kindness is through an open heart — And cultivating openness to kindness requires us to acknowledge that our personal experiences are not unique.
xiii.
Now, I’m convinced kindness is a universal language. Perhaps, we should use it more to communicate. ‘Cause it’s through the lens of kindness, the world takes on a more compassionate and understanding tone.
PS. A new post “A Way of Looking at Boldness” is coming up next Sunday. If you’re new to this series, A Way of Looking at Autumn’s First Breath is a good place to start.
a special note (regarding the previous post): Thank you to everyone who reached out or left a trace here. I appreciate all your comforting words and support.
This past week, I revisited one of my poems, Nomads’ Song, which feels so relevant and comforting as I hold both autumn and spring, right now … Listen to a fellow poet, Michele Lee, read the poem on her blog, “Serving iced-tea and poetry (w/audio).” The audio file is just below the second image. Thanks again, Michele, for your kindness.
Happy Autumn Equinox, Everyone! Let’s create our gratitude lists and embrace the season. ♥
The kindness of strangers is always incredibly moving. It restores our faith in humanity. And how lovely to have your poem read by a fellow poet!
You’re so right about the power of kindness. It has the ability to renew our belief in the goodness of people. Thanks Rajani, you are another kind poet who supports my work. Much appreciated!
And I appreciate your support too, Khaya.
<3
This hit me like a Mack truck:
“Like a Latvian summer morning rain, I’m persistent. I insert myself into spaces and force people to make room for me, for I have packed enough cultural diversity to fill my days with nourishment. ‘Cause travelling while Black is an adventure on its own.”
But I am glad you saw kindness for what it was in the end, and that it gifted you and your companion the nourishment you needed at that time. 🙏🏾💙
With travelling while Black, there are numerous unfortunate stories on the subject. No wonder some of us feel the need to put our guards up. But kindness always prevails and reminds us we are all human. Thanks Tre, for reading. <3
You’re most welcome!
And I believe you. I’ve got my share myself. I do not believe most people understand we literally live in survival mode all the time.
Just beautiful, my friend. Sometimes the unexpected kindnesses make the biggest difference. What a lovely story. I hope you have many of those to savor during your travels. <3
<3
Thank you so much, Diana. I’m glad you enjoyed this story. I noticed (in your latest post) that you’ve also been reflecting on kindness. In today’s world, there is a definite need for more acts of kindness. Take care and enjoy the autumn season, my friend! <3
Yes, kindness is desperately important these days, and as you so beautifully shared your experience, it can transform a day.
Thank you for this excellent story on kindness. Traveling is a wonder, throughout life.
Outstanding writing as you do, Khaya. 👏🏻 I was going to share a favorite line/stanza but that would be the entire poem!
“Now, I’m convinced kindness is a universal language. Perhaps, we should use it more to communicate. ‘Cause it’s through the lens of kindness, the world takes on a more compassionate and understanding tone.” Such truth. This is a beautifully crafted reminder of the power of the kindness of strangers. Gorgeous poetry and photo, Khaya! 💜
“Instead, I stumble upon kindness.” Kindness is quiet, but vigilant! 🙂
“‘Cause travelling while Black is an adventure on its own.” An appropriate and much needed reminder for us your readers that our experiences are shaped by such disturbing distinctions…
🙁
The traveling while Black line is so true and definitely know that feeling. It is stressful and makes you want to put your head on a swivel in different places. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like in Finland when the demographics (no disrespect to that country)…are nothing like America or South Africa for example, and I’ll leave it at that. However, kindness is something that needs to be shared when it’s genuine. It was even awesome getting kind emails from someone who also encouraged me after watching a video that involved them.
Beautiful and hopeful. Kindness is out there, buried beneath the rest.
<3
It is a wonder, indeed. Thanks Rebecca for popping by and reading. Much appreciated!
A great honour and humbling experience to receive such kind words. Thank you, Michele!
Oh, Natalie! Thank you so much for your affirming comment. <3
What a lovely idea of kindness being quiet and vigilant! We really need to open our hearts to see and receive. Yes, the disturbing distinctions are widespread. It’s a long walk to freedom…
It’s true and sad that some of us know that stressful feeling too well. That’s why genuine kindness is always so profound. When it comes to the contrasting demographics of Finland and South Africa, and lifestyle in general, there is so much to cover that I haven’t even started writing that book. 🙂 I’m still searching for a publisher for my book on the experience of being black in South Africa during the apartheid era…
All is not lost. There’s still hope for humankind. Thanks my friend, for reading!
You’re very welcome. 🌻
Absolutely! It really feels amazing to see kindness and people actually meaning that. I had some of those feelings recently with people checking out my video projects.
I would be interested in reading those books whenever you’re ready to write them. Apartheid was something I’ve been learning even more about with various books and documentaries, so I couldn’t imagine living in that form of government at that time. It was even chilling learning about things like Sun City prospering in a Bantustan as the Black population were oppressed, the Soweto Uprising, or even things like how the late Solomon Linda’s song “Mbube” was stolen to make “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” during that time period as he died penniless.
I appreciate your knowledge and interest in other countries’ histories. In our young democracy, we’re still working on healing our painful past. You’ll surely be among the first to know when that book finally comes out; don’t know when… Thank you always for your support!
No problem. I’ve always enjoyed learning about world cultures when I was a little kid watching Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?. I do hope South Africa is able to fully heal given the horrors of the apartheid regime. Sure thing, Khaya! I’ll be looking forward to that when it’s released.
<3
Your writing is intoxicating, Khaya. I love reading the things you write.
Lately, I’ve noticed that people aren’t as friendly. There are no more hello’s as you pass them on the street, and they stare dumbfounded when offered a greeting. It’s strange. Perhaps it’s a pandemic-induced change in behaviour, but unsettling nonetheless. I’m so happy someone offered you kindness when you needed it. A gesture, even seemingly small, can change everything.
That is such a lovely comment, Tanya! I’m so glad you enjoy reading my jottings. Thank you!
“Lately, I’ve noticed that people aren’t as friendly.” Exactly. There’s so much going on in the world, including recovering from the pandemic, ongoing wars, climate change, and we won’t even talk about politics. It’s a strange time, sadly.
This is beautiful, and I’m really liking this series, Khaya!
I’m so happy you’re enjoying the series. Thank you for reading! 🙂