I had heard about the soul’s sense of touch before but I assumed it to be complete hogwash. That was until I met someone that understood it; and least to say, she understood it well.
I was on a train ride out of town; (you know us hopeless romantics never take Airplanes or buses. There’s just something about the sound of metal against metal that excites us. The freshness of the breeze, the sound of the train whistle as you’re about to enter a tunnel, the shouts of a conductor asking for tickets, the goodbye hugs and kisses at the train station, the people taking the rides; oh my, the people; they’re always full of life, full of wonder and adventure. You’d have to be a snob not to like train people. If I had one word to describe them it would be, wonderful, absolutely wonderful.)
Two hours into our journey, the train enters this vast wilderness of greenery; I’m puzzled and mesmerized by the sight of lush green fields encroaching the horizon to no end; I’m astounded least to say; like a twelve year old boy, I literally have my whole face pressed against the window attempting to take a mental panoramic picture. In the corner of my eye I notice a middle aged woman, late thirties perhaps, blue eyes, thin pink lips, tan skin with red hair; shes doing the same thing as I am. I look at her with bewilderment.
Is she mocking me? Somewhat embarrassed, I stop my actions and immediately begin to regret what I had just done. Perhaps someone else saw me as well and thought how much of an idiot I seemed to be.
As my eyes shy away from the crowd and towards the floor, our eyes lock and I see her smiling. In my head I’m thinking, “What’s she looking at?! She just ruined my moment.”
She waves and I’m instantly thrown aback turning towards the window to check whether she’s waving at someone outside. I look back again and there she is, still waving with a wrinkled crooked smile that looks like she just dropped acid.
She waves at me to join her. Like a zebra approaching a water catchment filled with a den of lions, I approach the red headed lady. I’m ready for anything she tries. Just in case she decides to trade my kidney in some black market dealings, I’ve got my made-up Do-Jo Karate moves at hand (which were thoroughly researched from Bruce Lee movies by the way) coupled with some high-pitched cat noises for instant death; believe me, it’s a very effective strategy. One that takes years to perfect (worked like a charm the last time with the old lady who got a little too touchy during a game of strip poker, but that’s a story for another day.)
So I go over and surprisingly, we instantly bond; you know these long ass trips are usually better with company. We have nearly two hours left on the ride and we’re already best friends. She sits up, cross legged on top of the seats and I’m gasping for air like “What The- Are we allowed to do that?!” (I’m kidding, nobody gives a shit.)
I follow suit and she proceeds to explain to me about the touch. In my head I’m thinking why in the world did she have to be a hippie, especially now when I’d already placed her in the ‘cool people’ category. Does she know how hard it’s going to be to dig up her existence from the depths of such a dense pile in my head?! Damn.
It’s too late now. So, I give her hippie ways a shot. At first I couldn’t see what she was talking about but that was because, as she claimed “I had too many thoughts and had to filter them out and leave nothing but silence”. Like that’s going to be easy to do.
Eventually, after nearly an hour of deep concentrated breadths, I was at peace; I could literally hear the sound of my heart beating. From afar I hear her gentle voice calling out my name asking that I look into her eyes; not just into them but past them. I wouldn’t know how to explain what happened next but as soon as I did as she asked, I felt a cold touch on my nose then my whole body filled with a sudden burning sensation, even my hair had this tingly feeling.
My eyes widened, it was as though I could finally see for the first time, I could see colour soo vibrant it overwhelmed my sense of sight. My mind was drifting with all these amazing new discoveries. I hear her voice again, gently leading me back to reality, my eyes couldn’t help but drift to her long bright red hair, her soft glistening pink lips, her crystal blue eyes, her orangish tan skin, her long slender neck, the freckled ridge between her breasts. For the first time I see her, she is beautiful. Her cheeks turn pink and I realise she’s blushing. She asks whether I’m ready, I nod yes.
Her: “Focus on me and me alone, notice the color of my eyes, how my pupils dilate with the intensity of the light. Notice my hair, how it glistens with the light; notice how it swerves with the soft gentle breeze. Listen to my voice, how it echoes like a sweet memory in the back of your head, notice how it brings warmth to your soul.”
Me: (Smiling) ” I can feel it all.”
Her: ” I want you to put your energy at ease while I connect mine with yours. I want to say hello. Just breathe and let them connect.”
Sensing where this is going, a thought pops into my head, “If she wanted some of “THIS” she could have just asked. I mean, she’s skinny and not my usual type, but, she can still get it.” Midway my dirty thoughts I get distracted by a warm feeling on my arm; it’s electric in some sense. I look down to see if this nutter hit me with a taser but her hands haven’t even moved. I feel it again and again, and I’m thinking this has to be some physics shit going on. You know, like in those nature documentaries where you see positively charged particles in the air colliding with each other creating sparks of electricity, I mean, that is how lightning are formed, so it must make sense that that’s what’s going on here; then again it’s clear skies all round.
Her: “Do you feel that? The electricity in your skin? The burning sensation on your arm? That’s me, embracing your soul with mine.”
(Totally confused. It happens again, this time the spark is a bit harder.)
Her: “That was me again, pay attention.”
(Starting to freak out a little. I think to myself, “This must be that voodoo shit from Brazil I heard about. Africa doesn’t have witchcraft like this.” I maintain a keen eye on her; desperately trying to regain back my senses.)
Her: ” I’m going to try something else. (She smiles, cheekily)
Immediately I begin to feel a slightly warming sensation in my chest, it seems to be spreading to my back then lower and lower and lower..
That’s when I’d had enough of that.
I jumped up on the table, did the Red-Indians rain dance, while shouting some mambo-jambo in Koisan language ending with the words “You have just been cursed by the great African ancestral witch doctor, Chief Abukanamzeh Nkoritandu!” then bolted for the lavatories until the train reached its destination.
(Talking to myself) “I bet I showed her!”
You don’t mess with Africans using foreign voodoo; we know our shit too!
All in all, I will never forget her, she was train people and train people are wonderful in every sense; despite all the freaky things; she was the weirdo to my extreme weirdness.
Have a great one everyone.