One-way train ticket

by Gobona Tau (South Africa)

A leap into the unknown South Africa

I had never been so close to a mountain. I had always imagined that the icy breeze would crack open my sensitive cheeks and leave me teary eyed, giving me a rather uncomfortable experience. I did however also imagine ascending the gigantic feature, subjecting my tender knees to meters of gain in elevation of rock mass. I imaged the view at the top, how good it would feel to have conquered the climb and to have a hawk’s-eye view of my surroundings. Simultaneously, I imagined how small I would feel, so engulfed. This same feeling I had felt when surrounded by the ocean. It was easy to make out the sounds of wild beasts in the distance amidst the screeching of the train wheels. It was as though any noise foreign to the area was blocked out, a much-welcomed sensory adaptation, particularly with the addition of background chatter from the locals. Suddenly, the old man sitting across me did not intrigue me anymore. This was previously the case as he had a 1952 encyclopedia clenched tightly to his chest. I could recognize it by its bright red typology on its back, similar to those in possession by my studious parents. You do not see many of those around anymore, nor anyone reading them on a passenger train. The little girl next to him stared at me deeply, as though she was hoping I would initiate a game to ease her boredom. She had made several attempts to lure her caretaker into play but was often met with unresponsiveness or an impolite hush. Passing through this mountainous area made me realize just how engaged my mind had been on the train. I had not anticipated a change in topography and had booked a seat facing the opposite direction of transit. I must say, it was an absolute pleasure to be surprised with such massiveness. Mountains some 300m away from my window, clothed in white with the retreat of winter. I felt a powerful attraction. This brought to memory the Schiehallion experiment performed in Scotland in the 18th century. Indeed, I felt like a miniscule pendulum succumbing to its gravitational pull. This force felt like that which had given me the courage to face my fear of change and leave my home to start life in another country. This was both an exciting and terrifying decision I had made. It was the same force that gave me strength to finally accept the loss of my grandmother years prior and it undoubtedly felt like the same force that kept me going during my grade four cross-country race. I sat on the train in awe of the epiphany I was experiencing. I recalled my frustration before I boarded the train. The attendant mishandled a few tickets resulting in a crowd of unhappy passengers, myself included. Before this, I had misread the directions to the station and had to make several detours. One can imagine that my neighbor, who had kindly offered to drive me to the station, was far from impressed. He was slightly glad to receive extra coinage at the end of our extended trip but was still very unimpressed. Finally having seated on the train, I was met with an enormous sense of anxiety. I was second guessing myself but decided that turning back was not an option. I longed for a new experience. Now here I was, hours later, with a reminder from a 240 million-year old mountain that there is a force in me with the capacity to stand tall and be bold. A force that had always been present but remained unseen and misunderstood. As we reached the plain several minutes later, I exited my trance and looked over to the old man opposite me, wondering if he too had had a similar realization. His head was fixed to the far window as he drank his third cup of tea, book still firmly on his chest. My line of vision steered to the little girl, who met my gaze with a warm smile. In return, I gave her a wink which she quickly responded to and hurried to my seat, taking it as an invitation to engage with her.