Those who are close to me know I’m obsessed about the UK; its theatre, its music and the accent—I always envy a director/playwright friend of mine who religiously before Covid went to the U of the K to visit her family and also it happens she watches theatre; mind you my ancestors are aware about the English , they know they made things do and made things go and they colonised the pots because we were that great.
Period! No comment. No argument. We move.
Every conversation I find myself in about emigration. I conclude by saying if ever I get to leave I will go to London. ‘It’s London babe!’ The UK I think I know is from YouTubers blogging their lives from their bedrooms, vlogs about walking in the streets of New Bond street, dining in Soho London, sashaying in Harrods. Although not many YouTubers from the informal houses have a blogging kit and are invited to a YouTuber influencer black event.
The way I’ve marinated my life into ‘American dream from since the ‘Days of our lives’ at age 9 years old, albeit I’m doing the same now with London. I’ve never been to London, well I was on a connecting flight to Canada my waiting hour was 10 hours, nothing about Heathrow said the U of the K, because we all know ‘Airports are Airports’ but the worst feeling ever was being stuck on the connecting wait while smelling coffee and freshly baked croissants but couldn’t afford it because only the flight trip was sponsored. #lifeofabroketravellingartist
Before I went to sleep last night I checked my Twitter feed just following what writers are tweeting about. Looking for opportunities and social networking. And a tweet caught my eye, someone has tweeted that they were relocating to London and that definitely incited my curiosity. I mean with what is happening at moment in South Africa, relocating is the new subject trend, so my curiosity got the better of me I wanted to know their reasons and hopefully find out what all this mean to her.
It has been a month since a good friend of mine left for the UK, I’m missing her deeply for months before she left I consoled myself that whenever I too would go to London for my book launch I will visit her. #dreamingkeepsmesane already my friend is experiencing the snow by the look of things the kids love it but it is cold— whoever they are that sold me the idea that snow was a romancing coven and that it was something to be enjoy by the window next to the fire drinking tea with biscuit, was certainly not poor and never homeless. I always said I love the snow because I have a roof and warm clothes and books but that is me thinking from a point of access and privilege. What if I didn’t have those will I still think snow is romantic?
There is always something that makes one want to leave their place of birth; might be the need for a fresh start, seeking new career opportunities, or finding love. But some reasons are deeply embedded in the need of finding safety and the promise of having a life. Going back to the tweets, some tweeters expressed that they would want to leave with her but the majority were negative and saying running never solves anything and I could not help but cackle and throw in my hyena laugh a bit, because these stolen lines from films actually never made sense in reality.
Running certainly could work especially when you can, and have means and ways.
I watched Jimi Hendrix biography film; this was when I was just in the beginning of my music career, that meant doing every gig that was thrown at me and would grab with both arms. Watching the film I liked the style, the underground London music scene, the love of obscure talent and yet erratically cool, broke, weed smoking music personas. I thought my sound, my style would fit there, there being ‘London’ but the gag is this scene was in 1960 not 2014 anyway fast forward to today I’m still bent held reminiscing on the idea that London is a city for me.
After reading the tweets it hit me— How much do I really know about the UK?
Someone on these twits courageously wrote: ‘The UK here is not the UK from the BBC.’ that knifed, and gutted me deeply, I only know the UK from the movies, (‘Notting Hill.‘ ) I mean the bookshop and the market scene, that certainly has done things to my writing dreams and side note, I recently just watched (‘His house.‘) that shaved my skin off entirely.
I also knew the UK from YouTubers leaning on their white walls and white linen, pillow cases with perfect contours and well carved eyebrows and ‘of course’ from BBC was an addition to my yearn. The UK has taken steps towards me why that is perhaps because the last three months— a small theatre company from the UK produced my short story and for seven months, i’ve been playing alongside two brilliant UK actors with brilliant deep English accents therefore my brain thought hey I could make it, the U of K is getting closer even though it was on Zoom and YouTube— it was surely snailing towards me.
And also just days ago I watched the incredible actor Noma Dumezweni doing wonders on ‘The Undoing’ and my friends didn’t help my yearn for the UK. Gosh my love for the English actors, I see my self clearly in an English theatre, playing the leading role as if they don’t have enough black actors already. Okay that is another irking voice inside me putting a needle onto my dreams.
Can’t just a black Zulu girl dream a bit longer?
In other words I guess the needle continues to bring me back to where my pots are; few things in those incredible months of UK taste, it nursed me back to reality that damn UK might have intense institutionalised sexism and systematic racism and intersectional fear of the other, and damn the UK might have the increase of homelessness and homophobia, and damn the UK might have scary scary abductions, corrective rapes and might also have xenophobic attacks and GBV. It might be just like my country for all I know.
I question myself why does the idea of leaving this country warms me so well, and actually think I would be happier else where. But how do I know that— I’m a black Zulu woman who only speaks South African languages and who isn’t a scientist, medical researcher with Steve job’s money.
I’m like Van Gogh during the time no one knew who the hell he was and what he was doing; just holding onto his dreams and passion. I’m a shy girl who freaks out when asked to speak on panels, but not afraid to create safer spaces for marginalise voices.
Perhaps it is so not about leaving, but could it be about feeling safe and needing a system that allows you to be who you are? a system put in place that supports you as a creator, a place where you would feel safer that your children and husband are safer?
I suppose I do live in my fictionalised world because; a fictionalise world that is easier to control and develop to become what you perceive an ideal home country would look like. We are in a continuous movement, in a quest to find a place to settle. I also think that people should not be shamed for what they seek, what they called into and what they dream about. Some countries are for war lords and criminals only, and I think if we find another planet all those who do harm to human kind should be launched into a new planet.
Maybe those who are thinking of leaving would not need to leave. And side note Trevor Noah once said ‘ Travelling eliminates ignorance.’ clearly paraphrased that quote.
Leaving in my dreams yet still stuck in reality.
Love & Light.
Philisiwe
