FLIGHT TO BARBADOS 🇧🇧

*sings in Crashers*

What to expect in today’s Space to Land:

As promised, an instalment from my aforementioned research trip stream of consciousness/ diary entry/ field notes from a flight to Barbados. Contains flashbacks. And some news!

Paid subscribers can also receive a 39-minute podcast-love note from me reading the text along with extra bitttts (adlibs, swirls, pictures + video) after the jump along with an invitation!

🐳

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NEWS: BLACCC alt crits

Before heading in, just a note to thank everyone who joined the BLACCC alt crits since I landed, with the marvellous guests Nathaniel Télémaque and Bianca Saunders at Central Saint Martins and many good people passing through to join, share work and generous conversations on The Work. i’m very excited and grateful to be in continued swirls of art and practice of re-imagining the ‘crit’ as a caring and generative space. Nyams too u noooo! Sweet sweet!

Here’s more details on the project i’ve been grafting on, and also where you can stay updated on future events. Also, i know there’s people on this list i’ve mentioned this project to, since trying to get it into this form through institutional trenches for - oof - 2 years now! Holler at me (reply to this mail) if you’re interested in being involved in some capacity eh? Also want to note there are other equally incredible guests we have lined up (please keep fingers crossed for funding for us, yeah?)

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NEWS: Workshop in London next week

Also, if you want to attend a workshop with me IRL, please join me next week at Chelsea College of Arts Library (University of the Arts London), where i’m sharing a Sketchbook as Sanctuary workshop baybee! Here’s the deets!

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Ok onto the text!

And as is customary, a transitional interlude into the theme by way of song!

(Those of you who have ever heard me play records know this is one of my staple songs, particularly circa 2005! If you ever came to dance with me in that time or ever, please give me a prod so i can send you a present!)

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PREFACE TO THE PIECE: (4 my fellow context baybees)

Forgive-allow this unhinged and minimally edited typed note from my Pages which i wrote on the plane at the start of my research trip back to my Homelands of St Vincent & the Grenadines this year. Chronic illness is chronic-illnessing, but am doing my best to show up, regardless. But i say that to also honour that i’m trying to show up with a little more softness in places where it’s possible, particularly when i add pressure of perfectionism on myself, cause that’s counter to the world i want to live in. Perfectionism is not what i want people i vibe with to feel either. You too? Good-good. May we be mirrors and portals. Perhaps this is my permission to self (reminder to us all?) to let you in, and practice letting some of this be seen.

🪞

Let’s call these, ‘ethno-autoethnographic field notes’ (cause they are) and also; a peek inside my diary.

Content warning: mention of meds. If you’re not in the space to read about that, please take care and we’ll catch up another time.

a still from video below

It’s 10:44am GMT onboard a virgin atlantic flight to my Homelands, St Vincent & the Grenadines / Youloumain / Hairouna. The cabin glows with a pink-purple haze, and all, bar two, seats are occupied.

We have 7 hours and 46 minutes to our first destination of Barbados / Ichirouganaim. I’ve left the flight-path nerd-details on my in-seat screen and am amused. I am not interested in activating the free wifi (20 minutes bar the signup necessary ads), nor watching a film (rawdoggg 4 lyfe) but i packed multiple books and some paints, although i’m too wired-overstimulated, for there is a lot already going on in the cabin.

I’ve had barely an hour of sleep. I never rest well before travel days (which wasn’t great for all the years of hardcore Tour Life). I need time for transitions and there’s something for me in the night-twilight-dawn, when the world is somewhat-sleeping, where i can find some semblance of peace. My brain has some space to work through all that’s been churning. The to-do’s i’m anxious i’ll forget. The interactions or nonsensical rules which have confused me. Truthfully this is the main reason i stay up late at all. Neurodivergent fam do you feel me?

🐚✨

But this trip cost me a few days sleep deficit, since i was (once again) at the emergency surgery and tending to another health flare, meds, more meds, more monitoring, baited breath…it’s a miracle i’m even on this flight to be honest. Shoutout to doctors! To healers! To pharmacists! To all who contribute to enabling me to be here!

Some turbulence just touched us as we veer out into the atlantic. We’ve not long passed the cornish coast, lizard and all. A man swapped his seat as soon as the seatbelt sign came off, and spread out between an aisle of four with his wife. He on one side, she on the other, two seats between them. The only available free seats on the plane. They are flushed and puffing as they settle in to their seats. He is tall. ‘Built like a brick shit house’ is what they used to say to describe a ‘hard nut’ when i’d sit in the staff room on a Saturday or Sunday eating my Pot Noodle (a dehydrated snack reconstituted by adding boiling water to it) and they would be recounting the fights they’d had, or witnessed the night before. Essence of brawn and bravado and a kind of brotherly energy (once boundaries had been set by my all-of-15-year-old being).

🦎

I can’t believe i’m onboard with fellow Vincy’s (a colloquial term referring a person or thing from the Caribbean nation of Saint Vincent & the Grenadines). This is clear from our nods to flags we have donned. Acknowledgement to and with each other, eyes meeting in recognition, smiles and chats. There’s also the engelsk (Norwegian for ‘english’) ‘holiday makers’ and folks who describe themselves as ‘expats’, for to call themselves ‘immigrant’ would associate themselves with brown folks, which is precisely why they choose ‘expat’. It’s a mixed bag as the flight initially stops in Barbados, before it waits an hour or so (whilst you remain onboard) then continues to Argyle, St Vincent. It’s the new international airport and the first time i’ve not had to fly somewhere with a long, tricky and expensive layover, before being able to reach Home.

🇻🇨

What a trip to get my head around- i simply can’t believe this is happening. The last time i was Home was 34 years ago. 34 years! Now i’m 46 years old and i still remember, like yesterday, leaving the Homelands back to babylon, landing in a frosty white and foreign landscape December 1992. My grandpop passed away early 1993 and i was heartbroken. We couldn’t afford for us to return, both parents on the dole and me - now with hands tied in en-ger-land, caught in child protection laws and legal constraints of not being able to work and bring in income for the household anymore, despite this being what i’d done since i was 6 years old.

How i missed him.

Man on the aisle row. Second gin and tonic down. Hands trembling as he receives the ingredients for his third. Fumbles for a minute to peel open the can. Wife looks on, holding hers and cheers at their success. He concocts, glugs back his brew, whilst watching a documentary about The Kray twins, which feels so apt to be honest. Some vitiligo or perhaps just sun damage. Still ruddy like a reuben sandwich, yet browned in the way good holidays meet him. Great holidays surely frequent. After all, he’s on a flight to Barbados and has shared with flight attendants between g+t’s that it’s his “upteenth” holiday and he’s returning to the island where people know his name. We plough through some turbulence. The drinks trolly is parked next to us now, which is my main concern being so heavy and dangerous. The sun glares through the window. Gleans? Gleaners. Is this word likened to ‘cleaners’? i’m thinking now of the Agnès Varda film (it’s a good one)

Our Krays friend orders another gin and tonic. Number four.

I can’t really put into words what this impending trip means, or how i even feel. It doesn’t seem real yet. Despite attempting to make it here since i got funding for this research trip almost two years ago. A lot has happened in two years. I watch Kray Twin aficionado with a drink and nut-snacks (careful) take in a ‘world history’ documentary. He wears a shirt with the words ‘Edwards Heavies’ on it. I’m not sure what that is, but if i were to guess, it looks like a leisurewear company, almost 1950s/60s/workwear. (Editors note: as i type up this crabtoe scrawl, i learn it’s ‘a rugby shirts and casualwear brand’ based in Leamington which tells a story of its own, and i suppose it’s meant to?)

🦀

He finishes the last of the Bombay Sapphire and I think about how I don’t enjoy drinking alcohol on planes, or in fact, at all. It’s beyond not having funds for ‘leisure’. I don’t remember the last time i had a drink nor holiday. He removes his overshirt now, takes off his headphones and coughs a chuckle “HEH-HEH!” loudly so people nearby are startled. Aforementioned overshirt is flung onto the free seat next to him. He is leisure. Relaxed. Spread out. Space is his.

7hrs 24 minutes til Barbados. Then an hour wait, then a flight to Vincy. I feel delirious from trying to organise packing before this trip, trying to organise myself. Gifts. Tools and workshop gear. Artworks. Kit for documenting in various forms. I want to sleep but i want to eat. When i get there, I want to rest and enjoy Bequia but also want to take in all Vincy has to offer, there is such a long list. But a lot shifted and is shifting since the emergency surgery. I want to stop off and get roti when we arrive. I feel an immense desire for roti as a landing ritual. It’s only a 4hr time difference at the moment. So much stress to making this trip actually happen. What is it like for those with money on this flight?

His breathing is laborious. Hope he’s ok?

I will run a workshop in Bequia next saturday. Do I drop off artwork to the gallery on the mainland, i wonder? The show opens tomorrow afternoon. it’s tight, but i might make it before taking the boat - if the artwork survives this flight! (Editor’s note: it did, dear reader, and it’s still showing in Vincy now!)

(makes a list)

LANDING

• Digicel cel

• Taxi Giggles / Fluffybus

• Roti please! (stop by my old house and Hamish’s stomping ground?!)

• Check in, walk, spis

• Young island short trip in the evening?

• Morning - breakfast - see if friend is nearby - drop off artwork - young island if are too tired the night before

Plane smells bad like someone’s rancid air. We are near the toilet so guess that’s what it is? After witnessing people picking their noses (and wiping it on the seat) and crusts from their feet, i feel dizzy with nausea. And yes, yes they were. I’m grateful for the jumbo disinfectant wipes i packed in my hand luggage and upon embarking the aircraft, used to wipe every inch of the area where i’m sat. Obviously including tray, touch screen, seats, walls, windows and shutters, any buttons and handles. I know people mocked Naomi’s aeroplane routine before lockdowns happened, but i felt seen.

7hrs 20 minutes to destination, 3675 miles to Barbados. I look at people passing wondering if we could be related. I see my father in the eyes of a man. Is that strange?

Gin and tonic number 5 wow.

What should I do? I don’t want to be that w@nker who is taking regular stretches as discretly as possible, but i am and god i need it and can’t wait to walk around outside. I also spend frequent occasions working out my meds and spacing to avoid or sync with meals and time zones to ensure I keep on track. A lot of finger counting. A lot of meds. It’s 15:36 - had lunch/dinner around 2hrs ago? Chicken tikka masala, a dry-ass bread roll, a salad (slice of tomato, some yellow pepper, a pluck of leaves), some cheese and crackers and a chocolate caramel mousse thing. I ate the main, which was fine despite me wincing at the choice of dish, more about the brits trying to claim that too. It makes sense in terms of who the airline are looking to serve i guess? I leave the rest. I hope this doesn’t go to waste but it’s an annoyance that flickers across my brows. Ikkje waste. The service in terms of keeping people fed and watered isn’t bad though - just had another round of drinks (water, always water).

💧

2837 miles to London and i’m glad to see that creeping up. We flew over the Azores, a place i’ve wanted to go to since I was a teenager. Perhaps it reminds me of Home. I am giddy with longing. Is giddy a bad word? I used to get a full face clap for saying it (i learned after the second time). I touch my jaw, a memory, a self-soothing. The man opposite has had so much alcohol i stopped counting at 6 but it’s a lot more now. I don’t look down on this (although i’m thinking about who meets him on the other side) i’m amazed and also, never liked gin.

2hrs 52 minutes until we reach and i am really ready, trying to take things as they come and be ok with that. But i’m going to consider what i’m going to do, and how it might feel. It’s 11:43am in Vincy now, i get in around 4pm possibly later (1341 miles to Barbados, 2860 to London). I return to my meditation practice.

What am i unwilling to feel right now?

What happened in some confusing interactions before leaving. The perplexity of it all and the grief of not understanding many humans and the fear clutched in my body. I notice the echoes, tracing them like frustrating maps to nowhere. Pathways unresolved. I notice the tightness towards the top of my inhale. I lengthen my exhales.

🎟

Spacemaking as Sanctuary - bring a cup - tell me a story about your cup? People may not have a cup. What i like is there is TIME for connecting in these plans. Making zines. Having space to make. Could I actually drop my stuff after landing then continue on to Kingstown, eat roi and pick up supplies for Bequia then? Perhaps? Grocery shopping tonight and pack it down so there is less faff for tomorrow?! It’s set to be another travel day, this time by sea. I find breaking down the logistics helpful, at least trying to slow down, try to create space during these processes. More joyful, room for surprises, or at least noticings.

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(Another list:)

BEQUIA LIST - additions

• Water 2-3 gallons

• Oils, butters, milks, kjøtt (advised by dear Holly but i did bring some nut butter for all of us)

• Coconut oil re: above as it’s versatile for oil pulling and cooking

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14:33 and flight attendants collect rubbish, post-drinks trolly, bin bags wafting. Poems of possibility.

I’d tried to cross the atlantic before of course, and got very close in 2007, on a 55 metre superyacht i’d found myself lost on.

Attempting to make it ‘home’ via places and spaces where i was an ultimate outsider, a joker, playing lives, just to try them on. Why not? Unconventional (the more the better)

To lock down and attach anything which moved in the vessel in order to secure it was part of any task of being a yachtie when crossing large bodies of water. The atlantic could offer sheets of clear sea and also, walls of waves.

🌊

2020 was the closest i’d gotten Home yet. A big move closer. Much in positive motion at long last, unfolding beautifully with work and life with sweet friends (Hi Malaika!). The grief of what happened (and all the hardship which has come since) still aches in my bones. We lost so much. Working hard and being patient doesn’t mean things will work out. I hope this trip begins to repair something.

I scan the aircraft from above thanks to my touch screen. 2hrs from Barbados <-> 888 miles from Barbados. A clear patch of azure sea. Pepperings and coifs of cumulonimbus.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️

(again, but louder,)

WHAT AM I WILLING / UNWILLING TO FEEL?

Vulnerability in being in this space. Unknown. Grief. (takes a few slow breaths) Loss. (i hold myself) Memory. Accompanying myself home. Ghosts. Jumbie.

I’m (re) listening to Tao Leigh Goffe’s Dark Laboratory in smol chonks (so i can sit and feel it for there is so much in every sentence)

Thinking about:

Montserrat eruption - friction and fault lines of race and nation and what has been learned.

Survival being a way of life in the Caribbean. That is an art form.

Earth’s crust as a dynamic system.

Intergenerational frames of repair.

How we survive.

How we make magic.

How we adapt.

The consequences of climate change are not new to us.

The story of Lo Ting and Mami Wata

(makes quick notes)

Lo Ting - a hybrid fish man from China, specifically Hong Kong’s fishing villages “what other way is there than the sea?”

Mami Wata - West African mermaid deity of the waters. A guardian of those forced to cross the ocean. Both Lo Ting and Mami Wata met in a garden of the Caribbean.

Mami Water/river mama/Kin to Yemayá

BOTH were called ‘impure’ of the salt water, born in foreign waters and of diluted blood lines.

1838 Kingston + Hong Kong were connected via britain’s colonial experiments between harbours, which connected the black pacific and the Chinese atlantic port city (Hong Kong)

Both ‘sinking’ underwater

🧜🏽‍♀️

I think often about the waters which connect us. As much as land. The boundary-less-ness of water (and land) yet those insistent upon seizing, capturing, extracting, using and restricting, drawing and quartering it.

Colonising.

~

1hr 30 before landing

I look at the map of Barbados studying an area called ‘Diamond Valley’, which is in a similar area to ‘Diamond’ (dairy!) in Vincy. I also think of the Kalinago territories in both Vincy and Dominica, again in similar parts of the island. I’m looking forward to catching up with Nathaniel on my return (hey homie!).

We are landing now. G+T is passed out. As is his wife who drapes feet over the empty seat beside her, a rom-com plays out on the screen. Bin bags rustled by flight crew call for rubbish again and they stir. Someone helps them get rid of the assembly of cans and plastic cups in the four seats they occupy. Spillage onto the floor after his mixers. He makes a slurry joke and lingers a look at the woman holding the bag who is pretty and patient. She banters with him and I’ve noticed most of the people working here really bonded with him too. But not so much with the other people around us…More a fed-upness with others as opposed to a ‘you’re my people’.

Captain announces landing as we tilt. Waft of ghastly cologne catches my throat. Flight attendants march through cabins determinedly, making their way through their long list of jobs before being seated for landing. Prodding bulbous bags in order to slam overhead lockers as they go. Backpacks, carry-on suitcases and stacked duty free carrier bags fold. Rushes are made for the toilets. Window blinds raised. Bags zipped. Chairs upright. Seatbelts clicked. Mine has stayed on, buckled over the blanket - i didn’t know if i’d eventually claw back some sleep on the flight, so was worried about being woken up in case they needed to check. Excited chatter peppers the cabin. Some announcement: selling duty free now and asking for any unused currency for their charity. It’s inevitable this leads me to a potential rabbithole about these chains of charity. But i am fixed on the window now, for i’ve been packed and ready for this - will i ever be ready? I don’t know how it will feel to see this landscape after so long. I don’t think watching copious amounts of flattened youtube (etc) videos of this will ever match what it will feel like. Sound like. Smell etc.

🏝

The familiar electric turquoise sea colours of our Homelands emerge through clouds. Sky gradients from blue jasmine to cornflower. I get my first glimpse of Barbados - it’s as flat as i remember it - so flat in contrast to St Vincent’s volcano and mountains and peaks and their fluorescent greens and rainforests and waterfalls.

But there is so much more here as we fly over the ‘tourist’ coast then towards Bridgetown - more built up-ness. It’s wild and a stark reminder of the passage of time which has elapsed. It’s going to be a lot of this isn’t it? Patching together what i remember and feel, with what is now. There is a sadness and a liberation in this acceptance.

I am conscious i want to feel every part of this. I know my body remembers. We are one step closer to Home…

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Thank you for reading. Please share an emoji of the land or the sea with me below? And if you feel, perhaps share a reflection with me? Did it bring anything up for you? Hit reply or comment below - i love to hear from you!

Also feel welcome to pass this on to someone who might resonate with it too - i love to hear your stories…✨

A reminder: as a bonus after the jump you’ll find a 39 minute podcast-voicenote with bonus extras (as always when i yap!) plus some BTS pictures along with video to accompany the piece! Hope you enjoi! it’s unedited and unfiltered 👹

Thank you again, so much to dear supporters of this Space to Land for your support! 💜