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readyplayerhobi · 5 years

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Starfire | 04

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Science fiction, angst, fluff

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: The schism that broke the galaxy began, as it usually does, over a disagreement. The resultant civil war has raged for hundreds of years. When a ragtag group of travellers discovers something that could turn the tide of war, for good or for worse, the bonds of friendship and love will be tested.

; A/N: I know not a lot of people read this but...I hope the ones that do enjoy it! Starfire remains a passion project of mine because I love science fiction so much. This is a ‘transition’ chapter which I felt was needed because the next one will be pretty intense in terms of world building...please reblog, comment and send asks if you enjoyed it because like I said, it’s not well loved but it’s loved by me ;-;

Previous Chapter ; Next Chapter

A headache was throbbing at the front of your skull while your eyes were straining, an unfortunate by-product of staring at your screens all day. Namjoon had had you scouring the news feeds to find out what the latest spin on you and your renegade crew was. The journey was long, particularly as you couldn't make any stops and you were tired but you needed to know what was being said.

So far, it was clear that you were all wanted for treason by both sides. Which was ridiculous, as how did you commit treason for both when you belonged to neither?

Still, it was going to be a particularly tough time and you truly felt like an outlaw now. Namjoon had finally pried you away from your computer after 20 hours of intense searching. The Starfire was only a day out from Mikalia now, preparing for the eventual drop out of hyperspace.

None of you truly knew what you could expect when you arrived. For the safety of the whole crew, you had decreed that no one should broadcast your arrival to the planet. If no one knew you were coming, then no one could be seeking you already.

But there were problems that would arise, problems that neither you nor Namjoon truly wanted to acknowledge and yet had to for the sake of everyone. The Starfire would be well known by now. Possibly the most famous ship in the entirety of the galaxy at this point.

At one stage of your life, that would have filled you with pride and excitement; the knowledge that a ship you piloted was so famous and well known. But now it just filled you with dread and fear. Because people weren’t celebrating the Starfire, they weren’t rejoicing in stories of amazing escapes or astonishing flying.

They were hunting for you, the Starfire’s name being spat by billions of people across the known space. Your ship was enemy number one to the two most powerful systems in the history of space exploration and it was a frightening thought.

Space was a big place and easy to get lost in, yet you were terrified that you were going to be found so easily.

Jungkook had proven to be a remarkable source of information for you all, able to scour his internal memory and produce chunks of information with insurmountable ease. This unnerved some of the crew and they continued to avoid him, but it absolutely fascinated Jisoo and Taehyung.

It had also been useful to you, as Namjoon had also tasked you with finding out as much information about Mikanis as possible. Knowledge would ensure that you all knew the landscape of Mikanis, from its terrain to its politics and much more. None of you ever wanted to walk in blindly again if possible, not after what had happened now.

Once burnt, twice shy and all that.

What you’d discovered had been pretty promising so far, and you almost wanted to congratulate Namjoon on deciding to pick the distant planet as a place to hide. Deep in the Adrestia system, it was far from both UIS and TAS space which meant it was far from their patrols. Their influence was exceptionally weak this far in, and Mikanis was well known as a planet that was outwardly suspicious and hostile to both systems.

It was heavily populated, with a current population teetering on 12 billion who lived in obscenely large megacities that spread across its surface. The climate was inhospitable to the vast majority of the races who lived there, which meant that most of the population lived in the sprawling cities at certain points on the continents.

The space inbetween was taken over by extraordinarily extreme landscapes. Akati, the largest continent, was home to four megacities with a population of over 1 billion in each. The cities were shielded from the harsh environment with top of the line shield technology while the cities themselves had built deeper into the planet as the population grew steadily over the centuries.

Between Kika and Doragi alone, the two cities that were situated in the southern hemisphere, the land was a vast rainforest where a storm raged continuously with winds that could send a person flying. The wildlife here was known to be particularly brutal and unforgiving, raised in the savage winds, unrelenting rain and lightning that ravaged the landscape.

The northern hemisphere on Akati was a barren wasteland; the land cracked and bone dry from millennia of dehydration and starvation. There hadn’t been any reported wildlife there beyond astonishingly large spider-life creatures that secreted a dangerous poison and were infamously hard to kill

Mikanis was a planet of extremes for sure, and you initially wondered why anyone had bothered to colonise such a place. It was only after further research that you’d discovered it had once held an astonishingly large deposit of ditatanium, an incredible substance that was well known as one of the hardest ever found.

It was rare and paid well, which was Mikanis had been originally populated as a mining colony for the company Astra Mining Services. It had grown larger and larger until it eventually took on its own identity, soon becoming a stop for anyone who wanted to witness the ravaging wilderness or have a fun time long after the ditatanium had run out in the mines.

Mikanis had everything you could ever want, and its willingness to engage in what others found distasteful meant it had become home to those who disliked the rules. It was the perfect place to hide from two titans who were searching for you, but that also meant it was dangerous too.

There would be many people in Mikanis who would see the Starfire and simply see money to be made. You had just as much chance of being turned in, or killed, for the bounties on your heads as you did at being protected.

One person might see you as a way to stick two fingers up to the system. The one next to them might see you as a ticket to a good and easy life.

Shifting in your chair as you stretched, bones popping and cracking in your body from the movement, you let out a deep groan before resting your head back on the cushioned surface. The chair was made from long term use, the gel like substance beneath the supple faux-leather soft and providing excellent support to your body.

There were straps set into the chair that would automatically move around you when necessary to keep you in place, such as a rapid deceleration or if the artificial gravity went offline. It was also useful when in combat situations in case the Starfire was attacked. You’d been too busy last time to notice it.

But right now, the chair just felt hard and uncomfortable. You wanted to leave the seat and walk around; run, fight, do anything other than sit and stare at the damn screen in front of you any longer. It was making your eyes strain and hurt, which was something that shouldn’t even be possible anymore but there you have it.

“Find anything?” Namjoon called, causing you to swivel around to face him. He looked just as tired, dark shadows under his eyes making it look like he hadn’t slept in a week. Maybe he hadn’t.

As far as you knew, Namjoon had spent his own time going through all the crew members while also going over the battle you’d had, running over all the information until it was imprinted in his mind. He’d wanted to know where everything had gone wrong, you knew that. Namjoon had read over the contract itself probably a million times by now, wondering if there was some get-out clause hidden deep within it that he could use to strong arm the TAS into letting you all go.

But it was ironclad, you knew that. The UIS knew about the existence of Jungkook, which meant the TAS would wash their hands of you quicker than it took them to breathe. You were on your own.

“No. The subspace messages coming in don’t mention us, but we don’t have access to them all right now. I don’t want us to try and look at any UIS or TAS streams in case it accidentally alerts them to us somehow. They may have a track on our signal and it might cause us to flag up if we try and access anything of theirs.” You say sadly, pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes in annoyance.

“Shit.” Namjoon said. Simple, but true.

“What about your mysterious contact? Are they going to help us or are they going to sell us out? Because I’m just saying, if I’m going to die then I’d rather we just vent the ship and go that way. I’m not a fan of being laser blasted. I might not die immediately, and that would just be painful and suck ass. Although...is it quicker to die in space? Maybe not...maybe we can get Jin to get the core to go into meltdown or something.” You muse to yourself, finger tapping at your lip idly as you scan the ceiling of the bridge.

There’s no need to look at Namjoon to know that he’s probably rolling his eyes so hard that he’s giving himself a headache. It was your job to be his professional headache. His reliable shoulder to cry on, the one who was capable of running the ship in his absence but also being a big ol’ headache in that pretty head of his.

You can practically hear the movement, even though it doesn’t actually make any noise. You’ve just known him that long.

“I don’t think she’ll sell us out. She’s never been like that before. And she owes me...kinda.” His voice quieted a little, causing your brow to raise as you finally looked at him. He steadfastly avoids your gaze, a flicker of amusement lighting in you at the sight of him looking so awkward.

“She?” The question is implicit in your tone and you watch as Namjoon’s cheeks flush slightly, leading you to believe that this contact is more than you originally thought. But then again, you should have realised it was someone more important than just a mere casual contact; he’d only be taking the Starfire to someone he trusted.

“Yeah,” He paused, almost unwilling but the narrowing of your eyes had him sighing deeply. His reluctance to give her name causes you to tense up slightly, wondering if this is someone you hate. There’s not many people in the galaxy you hate, but someone Namjoon seems to know them all. “Chungha.”

There’s a moment of silence as you stare at him before a bark of laughter leaves you, the smile spreading over your face as you lean forward until your elbows rest on your knees. “Chungha? The Chungha? The Chungha who almost blew your head off last time we saw her because you told her that her EVA suit made her thighs look big.”

“She asked me if they did and I responded honestly!” He countered, defensive outrage in his voice. It causes you to laugh even harder, causing Jungkook to turn his head and watch you both with widened eyes from where he sits quietly at Taehyung’s console.

“Yeah, and you don’t ever respond with yes you idiot! Particularly with a Cheongari! You’re lucky she let you live. And you genuinely think she’s going to help us?” You stand, arms gesticulating as you stare at your captain in confusion. He’s not normally this stupid, but maybe he’d just made the decision on a whim.

It’s not like he’d had chance to properly think it out really, so maybe you should cut him some slack. Then again, he’s had a while since to reassess his situation.

The last time you’d seen Chungha had been three years ago, when you’d crossed paths on Iath Station. She was ridiculously beautiful and graceful, but the blood red eyes and ice blonde hair gave away her race quickly. The Cheongari were infamous for their quick tempers, but you knew that they also retained strong loyalty to those they considered friends. Maybe Namjoon wasn’t being an idiot.

If she was still angry with Namjoon, then there was still the chance that she might help out for you. You’d done absolutely nothing to piss the frightening yet insanely attractive woman and you liked to think that she still thought of you fondly. Even if you hadn’t hung out all that much.

“Yes, I do. Because Chungha and I grew up together. I saved her life once and that creates a blood debt for a Cheongari.” The way Namjoon shifts awkwardly in his comfortable command chair has you looking at him in suspicion. There’s more to this story, you can just tell. Namjoon never could hide anything from you.

“There’s more though. What is it? I didn’t really have a lot to do with her last time. In fact...it was mainly you who talked to her. I also don’t like the idea of you strong arming her into doing something just because of some blood debt. What’s to stop her from bending us all over and fucking us harder than we’ve ever been fucked as soon as she considers that debt over?.” Walking over to him, you rest your hip against his console as he leans back in his chair, shoulders moving inwards in an effort to make himself smaller. It doesn’t work.

He coughs slightly, running his fingers along his throat and looking at Rose’s empty console in yet another vain attempt to avoid your attention. “We have...history. Romantic history.”

“Oh damn, you banged her?” Without even realising you’re nodding in approval. Chungha is beautiful and you don’t often see Namjoon engaging in sexual or romantic relations with others. It was almost...nice to know that he had done.

“Don’t be crass. We were together for a few years when I was younger and...well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have feelings for her. And I’m pretty sure it’s the same way with her. She wouldn’t have reacted so angrily last time,” He lifts his hand to stop any words that might come from you. “I know, I know. I was an idiot.”

“So, she’s not going to want you dead then, right? That’s the main point? What will she think of Jungkook?” You gesture to the android where he sits. He’s been pretty silent for the whole time you’ve been here, content to simply watch the map that showed the Starfire’s course to Mikanis. He said that he liked watching the maps, which was oddly sweet and made you want to coo at him.

The pilot himself was napping in his room and you considered it a sign of how much you could trust Jungkook that Taehyung was happy to leave him alone at his console. Particularly considering Jungkook could take control of the Starfire easily from there and mess everything up if he so wanted.

A rather terrifying thought if you focused on it, but you shake your head. Jungkook wouldn’t do that. You trusted him.

“I don’t know. How is anyone supposed to know what they’d think about an AI? Hopefully, she’ll be supportive of us. I know that she’s got contacts on Mikanis that are useful. She moved there two years ago and we’ve kept in contact, if sporadically. She’s pretty high up in one of the big weapons companies there.” It made sense for a Cheongari. They were renowned for their warring abilities and their weapons mastery was phenomenal.

An ideal friend to have. A horrible enemy though.

“That’s great. Hopefully she’ll help us, though I don’t even know what help we want right now. What are we gonna do about the Starfire though? As soon as we enter the atmosphere they’re gonna know it’s us. I mean, for starters we have our name on the side. And secondly, our signature blatantly lists us as the Starfire. Anyone with half a brain could scan us and we’ll show up on whatever list they’ve put us on.”

Before either of you can say anything, the soft and gentle tones of Jungkook’s voice interrupt you both. It makes you jump slightly, not having realised that he was listening properly. His eyes were bright with the reflection of the map in front of him, neon colours paling his skin slightly in the darkened light of the bridge.

He looked pretty, innocent even.

“I can help with that. I’m pretty sure I can at least.” He sounds hesitant and unsure, as if you might snap at him. Some of the crew still found his presence disturbing and there was a little outright hostility from a few of them still lingering, making him withdraw into himself. Understandable from them, given that they were on the verge of losing everything.

But it was still not his fault, not really.

“You can? How?” You ask, brow creasing as you look at Namjoon for a second. He shrugs and makes a face at you, evidently as unsure about what Jungkook was saying as you were. Turning back, you look at the android as he stares back at you both.

Jungkook looks so young as he sits there, those pretty eyes of his wide while his fingers play with the ends of his shirt in a rather human gesture. “I can change the identification code of the Starfire to something else, so we show as a different ship. I’ve already identified an unused code that we could use, you would just need to provide a new name. It may take me a few hours as I will need to go through every system to change this code in case anyone takes a deeper look. I can’t change the name on the outer, but I presume that you may have some way to resolve that issue?”

Your eyes widen as you nod slowly. Jisoo and Jin would be able to go outside once the ship dropped out of hyperspace and erase the name from the side, removing any hint that this was the Starfire. It was a little painful to imagine the beautiful ship without her name anymore, but you all knew who she really was.

“How...how do you know how to do that?” The question is unsure, but you feel like you need to know. Jungkook was still a mystery to everyone, including himself, but if he could prove to be a useful member of the crew then there was a chance that the others might accept him quicker. And that you might have a chance of getting out of this whole thing alive somehow.

“You mentioned it earlier and I decided to research this through...my memory to see if it was possible. It is illegal. But I don’t think that we care about that right now, right?” He pauses, trying to figure out the correct terminology and your heart twists at the confusion in his face. Looking at Namjoon, you shrug as your mouth twists.

“No, I don’t think we do. Your call captain, she’s your ship.” Namjoon looks pained at the thought of his beloved Starfire losing her name and you reach for his shoulder, rubbing slightly in sympathy. “It’s okay, we all know who the ol’ girl is. That’s what matters. I’m sure Jungkook can change her back once everything’s sorted.”

A quick look at Jungkook has him nodding in acknowledgement, causing you to smile. He looks adorably eager to please, and you’re positive that he is. It must be awfully frustrating to feel so useless, particularly when he didn’t even really know himself.

Namjoon sighs heavily before nodding, running his hand over his eyes. “Okay. Do it. Change the name to...Fury.” His last word is biting and you get the sense that he’s got a lot of anger bubbling underneath his tiredness. You’re not surprised; betrayal, almost death and a universe changing secret can do that.

“Sounds good,” You say with a strained smile. “I’m gonna head off to sleep then. I think you should do the same Namjoon. We want to be fresh when we arrive. No one wants to make mistakes because they’re tired, we’ve done all we can do for now.”

He nods at your words, giving you a strained smile. You head over to Jungkook before leaving, crouching down next to him and giving him a soft smile as you rest a hand on his firm thigh. His eyes follow you the whole time, taking in everything you do with that calm demeanour he always seems to exude.

“Are you okay?” You ask, voice gentle with him as you watch his face closely. It’s almost strange, even eerie, how lifelike and human his looks and movements are. His brow creases so slightly; the skin there wrinkling while his dark eyebrows pull inwards and his lips purse into a thoughtful pout.

The very fact that he’s a working AI is a marvel of technology, but the sheer amount of work that must have gone into him to make him so utterly indistinguishable from a human being is mind boggling. If this is just one of the things that TAS is doing behind closed doors then you dread to think what else they could be creating.

“I think so. I don’t…” Jungkook trails off, his eyes skittering away from yours as his lower lip disappears between his teeth, chewing absentmindedly in his nerves. You give him an encouraging smile, squeezing his thigh gently to let him know it’s okay. It’s bizarre how his thigh feels like real muscles beneath your touch. “I don’t want people to get hurt for me. I’ll try, for you all. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

His voice goes whisper soft, strained slightly with a multitude of emotions that you’re positive he’s struggling with. You can’t even imagine what it must be like for him, trying to come to terms with emotions that he doesn’t understand because he hasn’t had time to understand them.

Sighing, you place your free hand on his arm and rub at it soothingly, giving him a gentle smile of reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. People are still just...scared and upset right now. But once we have a proper plan of what to do, they’ll feel safer and be happier. You doing this for us, changing the Starfire’s codes...it’ll mean a lot that you’ve helped out. They’re good people and I know you’re good too, even if I don’t know you too well just yet.”

“I don’t know me too well.” He mutters, glaring down at his hands. They fist slightly and you watch in awe as the skin pales the clenched points, exactly how a real person would. Tendons bulge slightly in his wrist and arm as he does so and you trail a finger over them without meaning to, wondering if perhaps it’s something metal beneath.

But it gives way to your touch, just like the real thing and you can’t help the smile that spreads over your face as you look up at him.

“That’s fine. None of us really know ourselves properly, that makes you human. You...you shouldn’t exist, not really. But you do, and you’re here worried about other people when you’ll be the one to outlive all of us for a long time I think. Don’t focus on others Jungkook. You’re new to the world and I think you need to focus on yourself, figure out yourself a little more. Find out what makes Jungkook, Jungkook. You are as real to me as anyone else on this ship, and despite what anyone says, they’d all protect you.” He licks at his lips, looking away and back at the screen.

“I’m just a machine though. I’m more like the Starfire than you.” You tut as you stand, brushing off your legs and giving him a bright smile as you wag your finger at him.

“Now now, none of that. I’ll have you know that we all adore the Starfire and consider her part of the family too. You may be a machine, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a person, okay? You’re...you’re our little brother and we’re going to protect you like one. Family.” The words are stern and Jungkook just stares up at you, those big eyes so full of hope in what you’re telling him.

He gives a slight nod to you, acknowledging what you’d said with the tiniest smile as his cheeks flush before he turns back towards Taehyung’s screen. Without saying anything more, his fingers begin to dance over the console and you watch for a couple of seconds longer as he starts to complete the task he set himself.

Walking over to the exit, you glance at Namjoon and see the way his lips curve up in amusement at the whole interaction. His brow raises slowly before he gives you a thumbs up, causing you to roll your eyes in embarrassment before leaving.

After all those hours of research and planning, you were beyond tired and you could already feel a headache beginning to form at the back of your eyes. Rubbing at your forehead, you contemplated for a moment going to get a drink before deciding that you just wanted to fall into bed.

But it’s not your bed that you go to exactly.

The door to Hoseok’s room opens with the softest noise and you enter slowly, taking stock of the sight that was before you. A sight that hadn’t changed for the last few days whenever you had come in here. Dim lighting let you see his peaceful expression as he slept and you felt the strongest urge to cuddle up to him and just disappear into the abyss of sleep with him.

So you did, slipping your shoes off and lifting the covers before sliding next to his warm body, careful to avoid knocking the wires that kept check of him and were hooked up to the mediocre medical machine the Starfire had. It was all that was keeping Hoseok hydrated and sustained with nourishment so far, but you were grateful for it either way.

Resting your head on his firm chest, you close your eyes and focus on the steady beating of his heart along with the gentle rise and fall under your cheek. He smelt like home, and it sent a sliver of safety and comfort to slide through your veins.

“Starfire, activate galaxy setting. Excalibur Nebula. Whole room.” Your words are quiet yet the response of the computer onboard the Starfire was immediate. For a second, you wondered if you would need to start calling her Fury to get the computer to respond, but it vanishes a moment later.

As you watch, the entirety of Hoseok's room suddenly goes dark before the tiny projectors embedded into the walls, ceiling and floor activated. The twisting purple and blue gas of the Excalibur Nebula stretched across the wall in front of you, billions upon billions of stars twinkling prettily inside its extraordinary mass and providing the perfect background.

It was your home system, where your planet was located and where Hoseok and you had grown up so long ago. Maybe the reminder, as subtle as it was, would help Hoseok to wake. Or at least give him pleasant dreams. It made you feel better, being surrounded by the space that you had grown up with.

Nuzzling your nose into Hoseok's shoulder, you sigh heavily and run your fingers over his flat stomach in a motion that would probably be pleasant and reassuring for him if he was awake, but it was also soothing to you right now. Just being with him made you feel like you could get things accomplished.

“I wish you were awake Hoseok. We're in a whole world of shit. The entire galaxy wants us dead now...well...most of it anyway. And can you believe it's because of Jungkook??” Your voice is quiet but incredulous.

“He's an AI, a real and functioning self-aware AI. He walks and talks and cries like a human but he's all machine. It's fascinating and horrible to know we could die because of him. Jimin still thinks we should kill him, but there's no point because the TAS know we know about him and so do the UIS. We're fucked. It's not his fault though. He's like a child, so innocent and wide eyed. Curious about everything and he tries so hard to be liked right now. I think you’d like him. I know he'd like you.” For a moment you stay quiet, letting your cheek squish against him before sighing.

You don’t know why you’re repeating this to him, but you need someone to vent to. Someone to just think about things with and let you get out your concerns and frustrations. Hoseok would have responded if he’d been awake, letting you talk to your heart's content.

“Maybe it's better you're not awake. Then you won't have to put up with this too. It's stressful,” You pause a moment before laughing. “I kind of wish we could just run away to Hekasus. Just...go back and get a home, get married and pop out a few cute kids. They'd have beautiful smiles and eyes from you along with your Magi talents and my smart mouth.”

You reach out to faintly trace over a pretty strand of violet gas.

“I miss when we were younger. Do you regret it? That we didn't act on our feelings then? I know we were young and it's not approved of with young Magi but...I kind of regret not staying. But then we would never have found the Starfire and our family. Still...I wish I'd at least kissed you that night instead of running off. There's never been anyone but you though, even if I tried for a while. And if I know Magi...I feel you may have been the same.”

Because it was true really. Magi only fell in true love once, and they never left it. The dancing you'd both done for years had been teasing, but deep down you both knew that you were both it for each other.

And Hoseok’s heartbreak in his dream talk had let you see the truth. This incredible man had likely been in love with you since he was 16, and you wanted to go back in time and slap yourself for missing out on all those years with him.

You sigh deeply, wrapping your arm around his chest tighter. “I'm sorry. I love you. Please wake up soon so I can tell you in person. Please. I need you.”

The soft and constant sound of Hoseok's breath is all you can hear as you drift off slowly; a galaxy surrounding you, a comforting presence in your arms and the sweet memories of a childhood love making your dreams pleasant for once.

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peckhampeculiar · 6 years

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Abosede’s story

Abosede Ajao stars in her son Adeyemi Michael’s recent work entitled – a fantasy documentary that reimagines his mother’s idea of moving from Nigeria to Peckham. We caught up with the Peckham resident to find out more

Words Emma Finamore; Photo Lima Charlie

It’s not every day you see horses walking down Rye Lane, but if you have checked out Channel 4’s Random Acts short film series recently then you might have been lucky enough to glimpse one.

Peckham filmmaker Adeyemi Michael’s recent work, Entitled – which is described as a “fantasy documentary” – reimagines his mother’s idea of moving from Nigeria to Peckham, and sees her take centre stage of the film: gliding through SE15 streets on horseback, clad in brightly coloured traditional dress – a yellow iro and buba and a purple gele.

Abosede Ajao also stars as the film’s voice. Moving audio clips of interviews conducted between her and her son form an emotive narrative, echoing through the streets with her.

It’s a story of roots, identity, courage, and – above all – pride. An important message, and one that’s not only been noticed by Channel 4 but by the BFI: Entitled has been selected for the BFI London Film Festival “This Is The Sound, This Is The Picture” programme – to be screened in central London this October.

“One can never forget one’s roots. It’s like a tree, isn’t it? If the tree doesn’t have roots, it would fall down. It wouldn’t survive,” Abosede explains in the film. It’s a sentiment she’s obviously passed down to her son, as it was him that came up with the idea of reimagining her story.

“Initially I was surprised, really. But then I thought to myself, he's always coming up with ideas and getting other people involved, so I just went along with it really – anything to help,” Abosede says, reflecting on Entitled.

“As a parent, you want your child to be successful. Some parents have money as their platform of support – I haven’t got the money but I’ve got myself and my story.

“He came to me with the idea – it wasn't mine at all – he already knew what he wanted me to wear, the colours and everything, the visual that he was looking for.”

One of the most striking elements of the film’s visuals is the horse Abosede had to ride through the streets of Peckham. She and Adeyemi took a day trip out of London to some stables to scope out whether this would be possible (Abosede had never ridden before) and luckily, it worked.

“I just mounted a horse – no practice whatsoever. Initially it was scary and then I thought, ‘I could get used to this!’” she says, laughing.

The effect is distinctly regal. As Abosede glides down grey London streets, looking down from her elevated position on horseback, girls playing basketball nearby kneel before her; a young man on Choumert Road bows as she goes by.

Her costume makes her “pop” in the foreground against a backdrop of Peckham buildings: traditional Nigerian clothes – in their distinctive shapes and brightness – but also in purple and gold, which are historically steeped in symbolic, royal, meaning here in Britain. Meanwhile, she describes her name as meaning: “A child that was born on the day of rest (…) My wealth is my crown.”

“It was poignant to use it [those colours and clothes],” explains Abosede. “My culture being merged with an English environment, to highlight African culture. Purple being associated with nobility, luxury, ambition. All that combined together.”

There’s also a courage and boldness to her image too. Abosede agrees: “Yemi’s trying to portray how – with any immigrant – you don’t know what it’s like in a foreign country, you don’t know how you’ll be able to adapt.”

She talks about how – being colonised by the British – lots of Nigerians have felt a pull to these shores, and remembers how – before moving here permanently – she’d visited London and Manchester.

“A lot of Nigerians would come on summer holidays here,” Abosede explains. “Back then it was new to me how quiet the streets in Manchester were compared to Nigeria, it was kind of scary to me! I wasn't used to the quietness, I was used to the hustle and bustle. Lagos is so busy and vibrant.”

When she did make the permanent move in the 1980s, however, it was a difference she was prepared to take on. During the film, Abosede describes how being a first-generation immigrant has formed her identity – she says in Yoruba, “On one side I’m Nigerian and the other side I’m British,” and describes herself as “having two places”.

It’s a dual aspect to life that Abosede has embraced: “Looking at it now, I’ve spent more than half my life here, so I’ve adapted to the culture. Even though Nigeria is home, Britain is also home to me.

“I actually feel more comfortable here now. I feel comfortable in Nigeria but also here, and now when I go back… one is not really used to the way things are anymore.”

That’s not to say she doesn’t feel or live Nigerian: far from it. Abosede proudly describes all the traditions of her mother culture that she has folded into her British life here.

“The cultural aspect of being Nigerian,” she explains. "We still dress up, we still dance, at weddings we ‘spray’ money... when someone’s getting married we still carry on the tradition of ‘introduction’ between the two families.”

She also describes the traditional process of naming new babies, taking direct inspiration from family, choosing things that are significant to what’s happening at the time.

“Eight days after being born, the child is named. And in the tradition – like how in the film I give the meaning of my own name – everyone’s name has a meaning. You look at family circumstances, anything happening around the family when the child is born, and then you name that child.”

Abosede thinks it’s important to appreciate what migrant communities bring to their new homelands, and notes astutely in Entitled: “It’s the people that make the country, not the country that makes itself.”

She talks about these communities being characteristically hardworking and describes the other qualities they offer society. “I think we bring respect – respecting other people around you – and also being able to contribute what you have in talent,” she explains.

“The culture of us being African – the way people dress up, the way we all celebrate together – and the way people sell food, what they eat in Nigeria, for example. These kinds of things.

“Also, we believe in being friendly to people, being accommodating. If you go to a Nigerian party, unlike in British culture when you take drinks or food to the host – we don’t do that. You're the one that wants to host – you've invited people.

“And hard work”, she adds. “Being able to contribute in that way.”

Does she think that the image of her on the horse helps demonstrate this industrious, almost pioneering nature? “Owning it basically, owning your journey,” she replies. “Everyone has a story to tell.”

Of course there have been challenges along that journey, and Abosede describes practical issues – such as childcare, when your family are all back in Lagos – as well as homesickness as being things she experienced. But it seems that building her new life here in Peckham was made more positive by having a large Nigerian community and Yoruba – her mother tongue – around her.

“Just even coming out sometimes you get to see people who are from the same area as you,” she smiles. “Like if you go holiday – let’s say to Spain – the minute you hear any English your eyes pop up! It’s similar when you're here, you have that good feeling when you hear your language.”

She speaks Yoruba whenever she can and says of the fact her children can understand and speak it: “It’s comforting. It’s part of your roots that you've given to your kids.”

Pride in these roots is central to Entitled and to Abosede’s story. In fact, she says in the film: “We should remember to be proud of who we are.” For her, that means maintaining her Nigerian heritage while fully embracing life in London.

“It's about making use of the best of both worlds. Coming here and making it your home,” she explains. “If you don't try and adapt then you alienate yourself. Carving out something for yourself, making it your own.”

She worked at Lewisham Council for 25 years, and after our interview she’s heading out to do door-to-door political canvassing. Abosede is a grafter to her core.

“That’s about contributing too, to society,” she says. “I’m not knocking people who claim benefits and can’t work, but if you can work and contribute it makes you feel part of society.”

This hard work, giving back, and appreciation for roots can be seen in her son’s work too. As well as Entitled – celebrating the immigrant experience – Adeyemi’s acclaimed debut documentary Sodiq (2013) highlighted societal issues, and he’s made films about everything from British-African stand-up comedians to the relationships between fathers and sons.

“He’s trying to highlight things and recognise where you’re coming from,” says Abosede. “Not forgetting your roots or people around you. In life everyone has a story to tell, and he helps people highlight issues – bringing it to the forefront, so other people can be aware of it.

“In Nigerian culture most parents want their child to be a doctor or a lawyer, but my take on that is – if my kids are happy then I am happy. When your children have that peace of mind then you can also have peace of mind. And I feel proud.”

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emikostudio2018 · 6 years

Text

Emiko Sheehan 213.463 Fine Arts Research Seminar Martin Patrick

One Lonely Moonchild transmits 70’s Disco vibrations, in hopes of your company.

Is it the Gravity of Darkness that pulls one mind close to another? When there is nothing but longing, can one find comfort in the dark? Gravity is different on the moon, where weight escapes, emotion floods the soul, like the rising and falling of the tides.

This semester I have been exploring through space and time, to bring you the finest experience of a moonchild, low on energy but way high with potential, reverberating sound and colour through a late 70’s disco space vibe. ‘wow, what a change from last year’s work Emiko’ is what you might be thinking, and that wouldn't be wrong at all. This year I have let go of all standards, and preconceived ideas about what I thought good art should be, and what I should be making, this is the era of me making whatever the fuck I want.

I’ve never really had a solid idea in my mind of what kind of artist I want to be, or even just being an artist. I don’t think being an artist or fine art holds the same value in my mind as some of my other peers, maybe. I ended up studying art by convenience really. I didn’t enter the degree with great hopes and aspirations to be an artist, I wanted to do this degree because it looked fun. It’s malleable and creative, which seemed very attractive to me at the time, little did I know that I would be faced with critical theory and self analysis that would destroying any ignorant delusion and blind enjoyment of every kind of media, art and people that I encountered, and there’s no going back to sleep once you woke......it’s not a bad thing though, just more work, that I think makes you a better human probably anyway.

Is this what makes a good artist though? thinking critically and consciously, seeing creative possibility, questioning one's daily life, their environment, the world, the universe. The world is the artists oyster, the universe is the artists seafood chowder. This kind of artistic critical engagement with the cosmos can open portals to good art I think, it can also open portals to existential crisis’ and a cynical glum with the world. For me it leaves me with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction. I don’t particularly like this human reality, and it shows no signs of redemption. A quick mention to some of the shit things in the world would be; Empiricism, capitalism, consumerism, racism, actually all hierarchical tendencies, waste, pollution, and then all the stuff that spreads from those things... This is not a kind world, this is a human world. It makes complete sense for people outcasted and rejected by society, or those systematically disadvantaged to then reject their reality and look to fictitious predictions of the future, and alternate worlds for comfort and hope. I live a reasonably good life, I’ve never had to go hungry or be homeless, I have a family who love me and good friends, mostly I’m in good health, I get to go to university, I have a loving beautiful man, it's a good life. But I hate the capitalistic systems of the world we live in. I hate systematic racism, I hate the continued effects of colonisation, I hate superiority of knowledge, and established hierarchies, and i feel the effects of these things, not immensely, but enough. This niggling feeling can grow and shrink depending on the day, or the situation, but they never fade, and maybe this is why I am so attracted to science fiction and fantastical stories.

My interactions with sci-fi, happened by chance. I never notice the genre and thought, there’s something I like and want to know all about, probably because it is so broad and hard to define. I haven��t read any of the big classical sci-fi names, I entered through the back door, it just happened that my ex-boyfriends mum was a huge Ursula Le Guin fan, and she successfully converted me to Le Guinism. At a formative time of my life, Le Guin help me to work through a lot of socio-political issues and ideas, and to think critically about them. Through made up worlds with close to home narratives, Ursula Le Guin highlights political issues that we have on earth—such as binary gender norms, and capitalistic greed—as way of critique. This is one of my favourite tools of science-fiction. You can use this fiction to overtly deal to matters in our realities.

One point of difference with Ursula Le Guin than other science-fiction writers, is she does not tell stories of the future, and shies away from the term futurist[1]. So much of science-fiction is prediction of what could happen in the future, given the right/wrong technological/scientific advances. But Le Guin says that she only ever writes about the present, because all we have is the present. I’m guessing her Zen buddhist beliefs, and the tao ching, work their way into this self-analysis.

I think, like most things, I have a very left of centre approach to sci-fi. Being Maori, and having gone through the majority of this degree, somewhat deep in critical thought about art, media, and people in general, I’m always sceptical about what I read/watch/listen to, and like most things, there is a mainstream, dominant voice in science-fiction, which is….. two guesses…...that white male centricity. In some cases, science-fiction has given (fictitiously) justification for ‘othering’ certain peoples and claiming ‘normality’ for some [2]. Narratives that talk about alien invasions, and humanity bonding together for the greater good, can, if you look closer, permit ideas of racism and/or segregation. Scientifically defining what is ‘alien’ or ‘only 2/3rds human’ has lead to nasty behaviors amongst us human animals. This is ofcourse not always the case, and part of the greatness about Sci-Fi is that is can also work in the other direction and highlight issues of racism or classism etc. or dismiss them completely. As a fine arts Major, I am constantly looking at the world and how to respond. Thinking about how to incorporate science-fiction or science-fictiony themes into my art, leads to many fun mind games, basically because there are no limits, or the sky’s the limit, aaaayyyyeeee.

Ursula Le Guin pushed at the boundaries of science-fiction, when there weren’t many celebrated female writers. One of my favourite quotes of hers—which is from her fantasy series, rather than her more classically sci-fi books—is from The Earth Sea quintette, where Tena is talking to Moss, they are discussing the power of men, and Tena asks about the power of women? Moss gives the answer, that is the answer that the patriarchy like to bestow upon women, that women’s power and magic, it is mysterious, who knows where it begins and ends, it is deeper than the roots of trees, and goes back into the dark, who dares question the dark?... to which Tena replies, “I will! I lived in the dark long enough, and I will have the light too!”[3] In this conversation, Tena is answering back to the place that men have left for her, and saying yes, but I’ll will have what you have too. This is what Ursula Le Guin has done in so many of her books, she knew what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to say it.

I guess this is what makes science-fiction so exciting for me, it is a place that exists, but has no rules, and is free for anyone to use. Movements such a Afrofuturism—or over this side of the world Astronesians—are spaces where minority communities have taken advantage of what science-fiction has to offer.

In a world, a global society that was not built for them, minority groups, such as blacks in America, and people of the pacific, have built their own narratives and worlds through the use of science-fiction, constructing alternative realities. This was what Sun Ra did, around the 1950’s in Chicago. Sun Ra would play with his Arkestra, a big jazz ensemble and preach his vision of peace[4]. Sun Ra had an experience with some extraterrestrials, where he was teleported to Saturn, told to quit university and embrace his alien status to teach America and mainly black people in America how to teleport to saturn, where Sun Ra set up a colony that was peaceful and welcoming to everyone one. He taught his disciples to construct their own narratives through music[5].

Underneath all my experimentations this semester has been a base of writing, and thinking about writing my own narratives and alternate realities. This seemed like a logical step for me, since I started the year off with the main ideas in my head expanding from the idea of ‘Astronesian’ and ‘Space Māori’. It also seemed like a good idea, because I find studying very difficult and fitting my unique creative process into the structure of the 12 week semester doesn’t always work for me, so why not just make up my own shit, and do whatever I want, because who says that I can’t? Collecting terms like ‘Astronesian’ and ‘Space Māori’ gives me a way to feel comfortable in expressing my discomfort, and weird outcast tendencies, I mean you could do this with any genre and area of art, I’ve just chosen a sci-fi approach.

I first heard Coco Solid using the word Austronesian when she came and put on a show in the engine room a couple years ago. I was inspired by the way she approached an exhibition, it wasn’t like anything I had seen before in that space. I volunteered to help, and when I got there, there was big roles of brown paper, printed pictures of coco cream and a life size print out of Steven Adams. I was asked to make a waka out of cardboard and shiny chrome plastic material. Coco Solid wanted a chrome waka like on the cover of The Patea Maori club single, Aku Raukura, a great example of some Space Māori art. The time that Coco Solid had the engine room for was mostly spent most constructing the huge wall collage of things that tied Māori traditional legend to modern day legend’s such as Steven Adams (Coco loves him). The wall had a fresh flavour, a solid political and social stance, while also being fun and collaborative. Coco Solid, just did what she wanted, and everyone else rolled with it. This was an experience that showed me how someone can be in the ‘art world’ and still do whatever they want, not having to necessarily follow the standardised formula of an exhibition. This wasn’t like a hugely defiant exhibition, but it was very much a fun time that coco solid constructed. Using the art system to her advantage aye.

I often am confronted with responsibility, and privilege. I feel like, because I get to spend all of my time making art, and living pretty comfortably, I should be using my time to like, give back to the community or something. I want what I’m doing to be useful and to cause no harm. I think these are good things to keep in mind when making art, but what I need right now, is to develop and grown in myself, have some me art time, and make the things I want to, self love and care, spiritual connections.

So this has sent me on a path of completely new work. its pretty classic Emiko, to up and start a new art practice, that I don’t really know anything about. I begun this semester making video based art, and have ended up in performance, both areas of fine art that I hardly have any experience in. My familiar element is that I am still writing poetry and prose, but even writing as a practice I’ve only been doing seriously for a year. I feel like a child, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. In this environment, where I have so many resources available to me, why would I only stink to one area of art making. I want to try everything, maybe I’m just indecisive. It sometimes does leave me feeling like I only know a little about everything, but not actually good at anything. In past years, I’ve tried very hard to make things, that I think will be good, and smart, have a political stance, uphold Māori values, I am still doing that, but not overtly. This year, I’ve opened up myself, and I’m serving up all the raw bits of my creative energy, following my spirit journey.

My spirit journey has led me to performance art. When I was in high school, I use to play in a band, I was never that good, but it was fun. My boyfriend at the time—who was also in the band and a natural musical genius—would sometimes make me feel incompetent in my music abilities. After a messy break up—where we probably both made each other feel pretty incompetent as humans—I was left feeling pretty insecure about playing music and performing. Though I think that performer/entertainer inside me has just been hibernating, and maybe now I’ve come full circle. This is the year for indulging all my inner kinks, and not giving a fuck about ex boyfriends.

My final performance for studio this semester was working with themes of isolation, space, the moon, dancing, and language, and of course a telling of these things from an astronesian point of view. It takes me a while to form a coherent idea or narrative of my work, at the beginning of the semester, I only knew that I wanted to go to space with my creations. I looked at artists such as Coco Solid, the Witch Bitch collective, The Pacific sisters, Lisa Reihana, Rosanna Raymond, Patricia Grace, Ursula Le Guin. I began by trying to create fully formed ideas and narratives of how I might put some Maori in space, but that ended up being very difficult. I already knew that I am not someone who creates a complete picture before construction, I work more organically, small particles reveal themselves into the light and slowly come together to form something whole from the dark. I had to step back and send out my aspirations into the cosmos, become an open vessel for celestial vibes to flow in.

This was no easy task, the harshness of this reality has strong gravity, I worked hard at my meditation, with little success. Then I was visited through telepathic fate, by a distant celestial relative. She was from a world very similar to ours, a planet and moon close in size to our own. This wahine lived on the moon of her world, too far away from the earth to have connection to anyone, but close enough to feel all the activity and love and heartache of the people on her earth. This moonchild explained to me that we were like an isotope, we had the same chemical properties, but existed in physically different planes. The moonchild told me how her moon rotates on a interdimensional frequency which picks up signals from any number of planets in the universe. The moonchild had had contact last with our earth in 1978. Sun Ra had actually picked up her frequency, our planet happened to be positioned perfectly to receive her vibrations. The moonchild and Sun Ra exchanged stories and philosophies, culture and relatives they both encountered on their astrological travels. The moonchild played me back a mixtape she had from 1978, amongst the songs on it were; September by Earth wind and Fire, Zodiac Lady by Roberta Kelly, Toon Poo by Yellow Magic orchestra, Oh Honey by Delegation and Diamond in the back by Curtis Mayfield. The moonchild told me of how she was so thankful for the multiplicity of communication she can have with other worlds in the universe, but often loneliness and melancholy brought attention to her isolation on the moon. her longing to be with other people on earth was sometimes overwhelming.

It seemed fortuitous that meeting this moonchild coincided with critique week, and I was able to use this experience to feed into my studio practice. Different to Sun Ra and other Afrofuturist, my performances have not been about preaching a message, or predictions of a better future. Within science-fiction there lies a lot of futuristic thinking, be it utopia or dystopia, but I make no predictions of the future in my work, not yet anyways, My relation to science-fiction, rather than being of the future, is that it is celestial, astrological. It is science-fiction on a personal level. Softcore, space bodies. No advanced technologies, except the moonchild’s moon I guess. This might fall under Arthur C. Clarke's third law, that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic [7].

In the Moonchild’s words, I found many similarities within my own life. Often feeling distant and disconnected from my Japanese whakapapa, because I don’t know that side of my family. I feel like I am away on a moon, not close enough to have grown up ‘Japanese’ but also feeling very ‘Japanese’ at times unexplainably, genetics huh. And then of course the effects of colonisation and not knowing my Māori culture very well, going through the stages of being ashamed of being Māori, understanding where that shame came from, understanding why many Māori are disconnected from their whakapapa and then being proud to be Māori and having to actively engage and learn about my Māori culture—which I am still doing—because so much of it was pushed into the dark. These themes fed into my final performance.

What is in the dark must be a terrifying beautiful collection of things. When the Nazi’s burned thousands of books, they sent them violently in to the darkness. When Maniapoto tribes were under attack and were going to be defeated, they buried their war atua, Uenuku, safely put him in the dark, and he waited there until it was time to come back into the world of light. All the unnamed emotions and inaudible experiences lie in the dark. Though, this is not the kind of darkness a scientist would talk about, but scientists don’t know anything about the dark anyway. We humans know so much about the light, and what lies in the light, but we know nothing of the dark, only what it is not, yet darkness is the biggest entity in our universe. It is undetectable, but because of its gravity, we know it exists [8].

I have been thinking about dark matter and dark energy, the unknown in so intriguing to me. I thought that where science is failing, spirituality must come in, and all this darkness cannot be perceived by scientific technology and thinking, because it is a matter of the heart. The darkness is the love of the universe, eminence and unpredictable, it is the force that unites. The collective consciousness of love that reaches beyond time and space. I found this idea transmitting through my mind one night, and then did some soul searching on google to see if other people have had this idea as well, which they have, I am not the only one [9]. I also found one hypothesis, a scientific one, that dark matter and energy is the gravity of a parallel universe, where there can be no communication between the universes, except for the gravity leakage [10], and this makes sense, because we know from Interstella, that gravity can defy space and time.

Dark matter as the gravity of alternate universes, and dark matter as the uniting love of the universe are both very interesting ideas and things to think about as my art practice continues………….this is the kind of process I go through when I make art. I have let go, and let gravity take me on my spiritual space cadet voyage.

Cited Works

[1] Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

[2] Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

[3] Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

[4] Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

[5] space is the place

Sun Ra, John Coney

1974.

[6] Aku Raukura, Patea Maori Club, album cover.

Joe Wylie.

[7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarke%27s_three_laws

[8] https://futurism.com/images/what-is-dark-matter/

[9] https://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/06/13/dark-matter-and-energy-is-really-love-and-the-urge-to-unite/

[10] http://www.physics-astronomy.com/2015/03/is-gravity-from-parallel-universe.html#.WyNSZlOFPOQ

Bibliography

Coco Solid (Jessica Hensell).

Cokes. Kuini Qontrol, 2018.

http://www.cocosolid.com

DeGrasse-Tyson, Neil & Goldsmith, Donald

Origins, fourteen billion years of cosmic evolution

New York, Norton & company Inc. 2005.

Grace, Patricia.

“Moon story”

Small holes in the silence.

Penguin group, 2006, p. 111-118.

Hau’ofa, Epeli.

“Our Sea of Islands.”

A New Oceania: Rediscovering Our Sea of Islands,

edited by Vijay Naidu, Eric Waddell,

and Epeli Hau’ofa.

School of Social and Economic Development,

The University of the South Pacific,

1994, p. 147-161

Ihimaera, Witi.

Sleeps Standing: Moetu.

Translated by Hemi Kelly,

Penguin Random House New Zealand,

2017.

LeGuin, Ursula K.

The Lathe of Heaven.

St Albans, Panther Books Ltd, 1974

Le Guin, Ursula K.

Words are my matter, writing about life and books, 2000-2016

Easthampton, MA, Small Beer Press, 2016.

Matamua, Rangi.

Matariki: The star of the year.

Auckland, Huia Publishers, 2017

McEvoy, J.P & Zarate, Oscar,

Stephen Hawking, for beginners

Cambridge, Icon Books, 1995.

Meredith, Courtney Sina.

Tail of the Taniwha.

Auckland, Beatnik publishing 2016.

Ngata, Sir Apirana,

P. Te Hurinui editors.

Nga Moteatea.The Polynesian society inc, 1959.

Whaitiri, Reina, and Sullivan, Robert

Puna Wai Korero: An anthology of Maori poetry in English.

Auckland University Press, 2014.

Wilson, Sophie, and Taipua, Dan.

Aotearoa Futurism part one:

Space Maori and Astronesians

Aotearoa Futurism part two:

South Pacific Futurists

www.radionz.co.nz

2015

Womack, Ytasha L.

Afrofuturism, the world of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Cuture

Chicago, Lawrence Hill Books, 2013.

https://fafswagvogue.com

NZ on Air,

2018

Stuff about Dark Matter and Dark Energy.

https://futurism.com/images/what-is-dark-matter/

https://futurism.com/neil-degrasse-tyson-universe/

https://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/06/13/dark-matter-and-energy-is-really-love-and-the-urge-to-unite/

http://www.physics-astronomy.com/2015/03/is-gravity-from-parallel-universe.html#.WyNSZlOFPOQ

0 notes

randrvstheworld · 7 years

Text

The Bogotá Diaries, & a passage to Ecuador

So far, Bogotá had been extremely chill.

After a shopping day & a stir fry (home cooked by us; we have been eating extremely well especially since hanging out with so many vegetarians) we relocated from the Airbnb to a hostel, Lucy in tow as she cancelled her flight & decided to hang with us some more. Hooray!

We’re now back in a Fatima Hostel, the same as Santa Marta; one of the biggest we’ve stayed in & v nice too. You come to appreciate all sorts of trivial things when you don’t live in a house of your own - having plug sockets next to your bunk (this hostel has none), showers with nice hot water & good pressure (this hostel does indeed have these & they are worth a thousand plug sockets).

Bogota passed in a bit of a blur - Lucy’s last days with us were very well spent but also involved a lot of drinking as we kept going out to celebrate her ‘last night’ & then every morning she’d change her mind & travel plans hahaha. I also wrote a long passage about our trip to the Museo Nacional but tumblr bungled it right up so I’ve only just realised that it did not post - CHEERS TUMBLR. I do enjoy writing about our travels but I’ve been a bit slack about doing it every day of late, too busy having fun but I don’t want to forget anything so I’m gonna try & be a bit more disciplined. Also need to cut back on the drinking & sobriety & being productive do make great bedfellows so I’m gonna get all my business back on track.

So. Bogota. We visited the Museo Nacional - I can’t tell you on what day because as I have learned it’s virtually impossible to keep track of days of the week when you’re unemployed & your life has no structure. But we did. It’s a museum dedicated to the history of Colombia, containing many interesting artefacts & info & art works from hundreds of years of history of the country; a history blighted by Colonisation, & conflict, drug wars & violence but also incredible resilience & art & traditional & a whole indigenous history of it’s own that makes for a truly rich tapestry. One of the things I am enjoying the most about travelling is learning about world history although it is highlighting that my current level of knowledge is embarrassingly poor. Anyway. The museum is housed in an old prison so the building itself is very cool, also slightly eerie, but housed a very varied & interesting collections of stuffs. We inadvertently ended up in some college students’ projects on account of being English. We participated in an interactive & collaborative art installation that involved writing words that we felt related to Colombia on the walls in chalk.

On our way home we attempted to stop for coffee but what we thought was a cafe was actually a Cuban inspired salsa bar that only sold alcoholic beverages & so I was tricked, TRICKED into drinking a very large gin. The bar was very cool, called La Bembe, it was like a 70s disco curiosity shoppe with mirrored walls & neon signs & disco lights & crazy colourful patterns everywhere & a life-size white tiger made of plaster guarding the bottom of a spiral staircase. Precisely my kind of place, a riot of colour & pattern & kitschy motifs.

The following day we took a daytrip out of Bogota into a small town called Zipaquira to visit El Catedral de Sal, a cathedral in an active underground salt mine & the only underground cathedral in the world. It was very eerie, I find churches & places of worship & religious iconography somewhat creepy at the best of times & the fact that it was all underground & spookily lit gave off a very Parisian Catacombes kind of vibe that freaked me out a little because I kept thinking we were going to imminently find ourselves in a horror film, however it was very interesting & a truly unique experience. There were all these corridors & pathways that wound around & further underground; along the way all these big stone cross sculptures lit up in different ways, sculptures of angels & also knaves where mass is still held regularly - they also apparently have weddings there. At the end there is a truly inexplicable light show. My favourite part was the Espejo de Agua, which is a pool only 10cm deep that looks 20m deep because the water inside is so full of sodium that it reflects the ceiling like a giant silver mirror. It was beautiful, like a pool of mercury. We all took turns blowing on it to create ripples to prove it was actually water.

That evening was Lucy’s actual last night for real this time, so we popped to the hostel bar next door for ‘a couple of quick drinks’, met a hilarious guy from Chicago & before we knew it it was 3am & we were smashed on Aguardiente (a typical Colombian liquor that tastes like aniseed), trying repeatedly to make Chicago dude (real name: Emmanuel) understand the rules of shithead (”WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T PLAY A 4 THERE”). The next day we woke up with heads so sore we sacked off the hostel breakfast (fruit & toast) in favour of a hangover-curing feast at a cute place down the road, where we dined on veggie omelettes & croissants & papaya & fresh OJ & coffee until we felt slightly better, or at least better enough to laze about in the hostel TV room under blankets. Chicago reappeared & bought us all pizza & moaned with us. And then the moment we had been dreading - Lucy left us for Santa Marta. I miss her. She is one of the coolest people I have met & someone I clicked with much quicker than I normally do with people. I’m so glad she lives in London so I’ll be able to hang out with her on the regs when I finally, eventually go home.

Roxy & I were leaving the next day but managed to cram a trip on the funicular up to Montserrate into the morning before we had to leave. Montserrate is a ginormous hill overlooking the whole of Bogota - there’s a church at the top & a beautiful garden & a little market, you take a kind of hillside tram up there & a cable car back down. Needless to say the views were spectacular: Bogota as far as the eye can see on one side, beautiful green luscious hillside on the other. Colombia is truly one of the most beautiful, breathtaking & constantly surprising places I have ever been, my word. I am sad we had to go. I keep thinking back to all the places we visited & getting all emotional that we’re not there any more. It’s also been the setting of the start of many glorious friendships, we’ve met some really lovely people there & partied super hard. Our time in Colombia has been pretty wild so I guess like all good things it had to come to an end but I am quite sad about it. Whenever I start feeling sad about leaving a country it reminds me of how sad I was to leave the UK & all the people I love that live there & I suddenly get struck with a homesickness that aches my heart. I know I will be back at some point but I’m currently wrestling with the idea of whether or not to get a working visa for Australia to prolong the travelling for a bit & also hopefully not return home completely destitute. My only concern is what if I want to come home. I WISH I had enough money to go home for a couple of weeks & just spend 14 days hugging people. I can’t though.

And now, I am in Quito, capital city of Ecuador, where it is cold & I have no towel because I left it hanging on a tree to dry in our hostel in Bogota. We are staying in an AirBnB/guesthouse with very sweet hosts & eagerly awaiting the return of Gabby back into our lives tomorrow evening. Today was spent in my very best way to spend a first day in a new city - a free walking tour. It’s a great way to learn the lay of the land & a lot of history & cultural norms & traditional tips as well. Today I learned about the messy political history of Ecuador & also about the prevalence of blackberries in various juices & dishes which I am now obsessed with trying. Quito is extremely hilly & much prettier than I had expected, not that I was really expecting anything as we ended up here completely by accident due to a flight-booking snafu. But what a happy accident it has transpired to be.

Someone I care about very much said to me the other day that he suspected I may come back from travelling a completely different person. I hope if that is true that I will have only changed for the better. Travelling is certainly making me more confident & a little less uptight, also more humble, & I feel I now have a clearer mind about what I want out of the rest of my life. But I am still me, or at least I hope so.

Anyway. It’s getting late here & I slept super badly last night on account of my bad knee which is getting worse by the day, keeping me up at night in agonising pain. It’s cold here so I’m wearing my warm clothes for the first time in 4 months. I don’t know what we’re going to do tomorrow, which is a first for me, not having a plan. I kinda like it though. I am naturally a planner - I like knowing what I’m going to do tomorrow, & the next day. But in a way I think it’s good not to know. The only thing that lies ahead is exactly what I choose in that moment.

#travelling #colombia #ecuador #travel diary #randrvstheworld

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abbindkataskea · 7 years

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2017 is being an intense year for the Western world, marked by the rise of nationalist movements. Anyone with a basic understanding of fascism, xenophobia and white supremacy would have probably seen this coming in the last few years. When politicians across the spectrum use migrants as a basketball ball to score points, when challenging racism becomes a bore-some activity for so called progressive/liberals, when dealing with inequality and xenophobia is seen as a matter of “overrated identity politics, when people pretend only white people are working class and suffering since the financial crisis of 2008, when the media is still unable to check their biased language, and when all of the sudden everyone wants to pretend we are all equal as if a few decades of brown and black people seen as human (debatable) erases the effects of centuries of genocide, slavery and colonisation, well…. You get this. A region in which racial supremacy and discrimination are okayed again (to be honest, were they ever not okayed?) in the name of freedom of speech.

At the same time, everyone willing to challenge this bigotry is called a “regressive leftist” by people who genuinely believe they are progressive leftists, while being moderate centrists, if anything. Neo-Nazis and conservatives might refer to them as “easily triggered snowflakes”, which is ironic since they turn purple and angry whenever you call their statements ‘racist’. “Clueless social justice warriors” is another label used often by people who still don’t know their right to freedom of speech can only be violated by governments and their agencies/bodies, not by fellow citizens counterarguing what they say. And lastly, my personal favourite one: “entitled millennials”, a tone-deaf term used by adults who believe young people under 30 years old are all middle-class babies who had everything handed to them (working/lower class young people don’t exist anymore), were rewarded for mediocrity (seriously, where are all these awards? I didn’t get mine) and can’t live outside safe spaces (apparently young people live in protective bubbles away from the cruel real world, I can’t believe I didn’t get one!).

I’m not going to go any deeper into the political situation in the West, I’m still on an indefinite break from writing about social issues at a non-personal level. I just wanted to give a brief look at the context in which this personal article is set. The ongoing discussions about nationalism, patriotism, culture and ethnicity have made me think deeply about my own identity. How I identify and how I am identified. I struggle to determine to where I belong and to which countries/regions I should be loyal too. My national, ethnic and cultural identities are complicated to the point in which I’m uncertain I have any of these.

I was born in the Basque Country, an autonomous region in Spain. I lived there till 2012, the year I moved to England, where I currently reside. My nationality is Spanish and despite living in Britain for over four years, I still have a strong (Northern) Spanish accent. At the same time, I have adopted various British customs, such as saying “sorry” non-stop without an actual reason, eating roast on Sundays, being passive aggressive and drinking a lot of tea throughout the day (just joking!). Despite all this, I was born (and I live) in a different place to where my parents and grandparents were born. Hence, my nationality and place of residence say little to nothing about my ethnicity and heritage.

My mother was born in Equatorial Guinea, located in Central/Middle Africa. Her mother (my grandmother) is from there too, while her father (my grandfather) was originally from a West African country, either Cape Verde or São Tomé and Príncipe (I can’t confirm which one it is since I have been told different things). As you can see, simply in my mother’s side there is already a mixture of ethnicities, which would be even bigger if specific ethnic groups/tribes would be considered (which I won’t do because I don’t want to overcomplicate this article). Although it might seem confusing, describing my maternal heritage is easy compared to my paternal heritage: my biological father (from whom I inherited my genetic traits) differs from my legal father (who legally recognises me as his daughter). I have never met my biological father and I know little about him. Meanwhile, I was raised by my legal father and he is the only person I consider a “father” in my life. I was told that my biological father is Senegalese and Bissau-Guinean (both West African countries). My legal father is from DR Congo and his parents (my grandparents) migrated there from Angola. Both countries are in Central/Middle Africa.

I learnt most of this information about my family during the last couple of years. Growing up, I was never curious about my ethnicity and heritage. I never even tried to define them. The only things I was sure about were my race (black) and my nationality (Spanish). While I grew up immersed in Spanish culture, I never felt part of it: it wasn’t something I could claim as my heritage. While Spain is a “colourblind” country in many aspects (when I lived there, race and ethnicity were not officially recorded as in UK), racism and xenophobia are common. People always give you subtle and not-so-subtle reminders about you not being “originally” from Spain.

It was also hard for me to feel attached to my African background because I didn’t grow up with my family (except my siblings). Now and then, I did have access to my parents’ cultures, mainly during family celebrations and spiritual rituals, but these were limited. I can name some basic Congolese food dishes, some basic Equatorial Guinean food dishes. I can understand some words of Lingala (Congolese language) and Pichinglish (Creole language in Equatorial Guinea). I’m aware of some rituals and customs. But my position regarding these cultures is the one of an outsider, rather than someone actively involved in them. In addition, till no long ago, I silently rejected my African background because of the gender roles that were being forced on me in the name of it.

Moving to England and becoming a young adult triggered in me an interest to know more about my roots to define my ethnicity better. In England I saw how most black people, even if British, embraced their ethnicity a lot, not just as “African”, but as Nigerian, Ghanaian, Jamaican… Or even specific subgroups, such as Yoruba. I felt a lot of envy about this, I wished that was me. Meanwhile I realised that I would never be considered Spanish and I wondered if I wanted to live in this continent forever. In addition, when deciding what to study at university, I remember how my dad pushed me to go for something that could help people “back at home”, meaning DR Congo for him.

All this inspired me to learn more about my roots. I asked questions to my family, and I did an Ancestry DNA test to proof-check their answers. While Ancestry DNA isn’t 100% accurate, it is an indicator, and I’m hoping to do a 23andMe check soon, since it is considered more reliable. Here are my Ancestry DNA results:

(*Trace regions are regions/countries which are only possibilities and might appear in the results by chance.)

My reaction to this data was a mixture of confirmation and surprise. I suspected most of my ethnicity would be African. I knew I had some European ancestry because my maternal grandfather was creole/mulatto. I thought I would get a small percentage for Native American (defined by Ancestry as indigenous groups from North to South America) because I was told my maternal great-grandmother has an Indigenous Cuban ancestor (the ancestor might be too distant to appear). I definitely have Afro-Cuban ancestry, something common in my mother’s home country, yet it isn’t reflected on the test since Afro-Cubans, as other Afro-Latinos, are direct descendants of black African slaves sent to the Americas.

I was surprised by the percentage for the Middle East, and although it is just a chance, it might be true due to extensive presence of Middle-Easterns in Africa, particularly in countries that make up my ethnicity. Regardless of this, I’m happy with being just black African, that’s how I have always identified. (Black) Afro-Hispanic is a label that wouldn’t bother me either, since linguistically speaking, I’m indeed Hispanic, which is not the same as Latino by the way (though I do have Latino [and Caribbean] heritage since I have Cuban ancestry and I grew up quite influenced by it).

When comes to individual countries, I already knew I had Senegalese roots, though I didn’t think it would be my biggest percentage. Conversely, I knew I had Bantu background, since my maternal grandmother’s ethnic group is Bubi, a Bantu subgroup, but I didn’t think the percentage would be so small. I was dazed by the rest of African countries and for the lack of mention of Equatorial Guinea, Cape Verde or/and São Tomé and Príncipe, in the list. However, a small look at African history helped me to make sense of this. Cape Verde and São Tomé and Príncipe were supposedly uninhabited islands when the Portuguese arrived to colonise them. They were populated mainly through European settlers and slaves from continental Africa. That’s probably why countries like Congo and Benin appear in my Ancestry DNA: many slaves were taken from there. A similar logic can apply to Equatorial Guinea: that country was inhabited prior to Portuguese and Spanish colonisation (by ethnic groups like the Bubis), but there was a lot of migration from neighbouring areas afterwards.

Except for two, all the African countries/regions in my results are in West & Central Africa. Considering how European-made national borders in Africa don’t respect ethnic groups and tribes, the variety in my ethnicity makes more sense: the ethnic groups I belong to could be found in various countries in the area. Nationality might not be the greatest indicator for ethnicity in Africa. It is also important to keep in mind I don’t have full access to knowledge about my biological father’s family background. And, as I mentioned earlier, Ancestry DNA isn’t 100% accurate, although my results look more right than wrong.

As you can see, my ethnicity and heritage are heterogeneous. My mother, my legal father and my biological father are all from separate places, even different to their own parents. It is important to mention that while I didn’t inherit genetic traits from my legal father, his heritage and ethnicity still influence my cultural identity. Now, add my nationality (Spanish) and my place of residence (England). To which country in the world am I supposed to be loyal? To which country in the world am I supposed to show patriotism? I identify as black African normally, but I’m aware I’m legally Spanish and I’m a citizen of England.

Having a transnational, multicultural and mixed background is supposed to make me richer in knowledge and experiences, which is not untrue. Yet, it doesn’t make you richer in company. It can be very isolating. You belong to so many places that you end up belonging to nowhere. And more nowadays, when nationalism and ethno-supremacy are such a trend worldwide. It is easy to force nationalism upon people when you haven’t been rejected by your country of birth, when the country where you live doesn’t hate you and when you don’t have a transnational family.

My nationality is culturally and ethnically meaningless. Living in England matters to me, but the current war on immigrants and Brexit make things harder. While I’m trying to learn more about the countries that compose my African background, I still don’t feel attached to them. That’s the main reason why I can’t get behind any person or idea that doesn’t consider that who I am comes from more than one country or region, and tries to shame me for not being nationalistic. I simply have a borderless identity not confined to a single culture or place. And I wish people understood this, just as I respect their right to be patriotic. Hopefully one day, people like me will be considered during political discussions about culture, ethnicity and nationalism. Hopefully.

NEW POST=> Journal Entry: Nationality, Ethnicity, Heritage and Me (About my complex identity) 2017 is being an intense year for the Western world, marked by the rise of nationalist movements.

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