“I’m starting a blog, baby”, I say to her.
“What will you write about?” she asks.
“Anything, everything, nothing – I will write from the heart”.
“What will you call the blog?”
“Musings of a Stateless International Traveller.”
“But you are not stateless”, she protests. “You still have your “green book” from the homeland, you have held on to your metal ID, your birth certificate, your marriage certificate. You have documents to prove you are not stateless. I mean you still celebrate when the nation wins four Olympic medals from one athlete. You were on your feet, rooting for one Brian Dzingai in the 200m men final, even if you knew his chances were limited against that lightning bolt, that is Usain Bolt. Really you are not stateless.”
“What is the meaning of stateless?” I shoot back. “Are you saying I am not a dislocated civilian, a displaced person? Haven’t I been denationalized, dispossessed – how else do you explain my bringing up offspring in a land with no aunties, grannies or cousins. How?”
“Ok! Even if we could agree on your statelessness, I am not sure you do qualify as an International Traveller either. I mean how many countries have you done? If you have done 10% of the world, I will give it to you.”
Ok! How many countries are there in the world? 192,193, 194 or 195 (Damn! Why the confusion, I thought the boundaries were well established. Anyway, it seems the status of Taiwan, Palestine, Greenland, Western Sahara (where is that???), and the Vatican, as countries is open to interpretation. I settle for 195, turns out I have only done 4.6% of the world.
“So, Ok, you clever bastard, I can’t prove I am stateless, and as per your definition am no traveller either. So I drop the name!! I will call it “Tales from this end - fending for the offspring in the Diaspora.”
“Really! You have an obsession with the diaspora. Are you gonna let that define every aspect of your life?”
“Doesn’t it already? But ok forget it. I will call it “Life and times of a mad Zimbabwean girl.”
“Yah! Right, sounds really original!”
Ok! Ok! I know, I know – “And Still We Dance” that’s what I will call it. Yes, we continue to dance, we choose to dance the tide, no sitting it out – shall we dance, Babs.”
“Ok, Just one more question.”
“Will you be anonymous?”
“Its too late isn’t it? I have already told you the name.”
“What will you write about?” she asks.
“Anything, everything, nothing – I will write from the heart”.
“What will you call the blog?”
“Musings of a Stateless International Traveller.”
“But you are not stateless”, she protests. “You still have your “green book” from the homeland, you have held on to your metal ID, your birth certificate, your marriage certificate. You have documents to prove you are not stateless. I mean you still celebrate when the nation wins four Olympic medals from one athlete. You were on your feet, rooting for one Brian Dzingai in the 200m men final, even if you knew his chances were limited against that lightning bolt, that is Usain Bolt. Really you are not stateless.”
“What is the meaning of stateless?” I shoot back. “Are you saying I am not a dislocated civilian, a displaced person? Haven’t I been denationalized, dispossessed – how else do you explain my bringing up offspring in a land with no aunties, grannies or cousins. How?”
“Ok! Even if we could agree on your statelessness, I am not sure you do qualify as an International Traveller either. I mean how many countries have you done? If you have done 10% of the world, I will give it to you.”
Ok! How many countries are there in the world? 192,193, 194 or 195 (Damn! Why the confusion, I thought the boundaries were well established. Anyway, it seems the status of Taiwan, Palestine, Greenland, Western Sahara (where is that???), and the Vatican, as countries is open to interpretation. I settle for 195, turns out I have only done 4.6% of the world.
“So, Ok, you clever bastard, I can’t prove I am stateless, and as per your definition am no traveller either. So I drop the name!! I will call it “Tales from this end - fending for the offspring in the Diaspora.”
“Really! You have an obsession with the diaspora. Are you gonna let that define every aspect of your life?”
“Doesn’t it already? But ok forget it. I will call it “Life and times of a mad Zimbabwean girl.”
“Yah! Right, sounds really original!”
Ok! Ok! I know, I know – “And Still We Dance” that’s what I will call it. Yes, we continue to dance, we choose to dance the tide, no sitting it out – shall we dance, Babs.”
“Ok, Just one more question.”
“Will you be anonymous?”
“Its too late isn’t it? I have already told you the name.”
peace of art!
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