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kane davis at matt and phreds for sylence single refreshed - video shoot location Manchester August 2009
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This pretty boy took forever and a day to get used to me. He really wanted his perch--there aren't many good perches in this part of the pond--but he was very wary. In the time it took for him to trust me enough to land, I made friends with practically every other insect there (including some "overly friendly" biting flies).
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As a kid, I spent a lot of time in airports.
It was my dad you see, he travelled a lot. Sometimes for months at a time, coming back only for a few weeks to see my mom, my brother and me.
I must have been quite tiny then as most of my recollections involved being knocked down by suitcases on wheels and being forcefully dragged by my already-late dad.
The airport we had to go to, is now reserved for domestic flights only. But in those days, it was certainly one of the biggest and busiest in the region. I remember it very well. Being a closely knit family, if often accompanied my relatives as well when they had to leave abroad.
I was always fascinated by this. Where were they going? What are these places like?
My dad spent a lot of time in Africa, the Arabian peninsula as well as the Middle East. We was attached to an organisation which imported livestock, between countries for cross-breeding purposes. He also did a stint with an organisation which eventually became known as a global wildlife conservation group. I remember getting postcards from far ‘exotic’ places like Mombasa, Jeddah and Lahore. I still have them with me. They are some of my prized possessions.
My dad was a genuine explorer. It sometimes took him weeks to get from one point on to the globe to another. When he was home, he used to tell me tales of sea voyages, camel treks and unfriendly natives. I was mesmerised. He used to bring back wonderful souvenirs in the form of trinkets and huge wood carvings from Africa and oils from the Persian Gulf. I was simply mesmerised. And his adventures began at that airport.
I wished I could have gone with him. At one time, he was back for only a few weeks when a window was opened to him to track the migratory path of some wild animals and he was off again. I never saw him for almost 6 months after that. But still the postcards arrived almost every week.
I cannot tell you how thrilled I was when I received them. Those few paragraphs spoke loads to me. It showed that he was still thinking about me.
Best part is, my brother got them as well, but I had to help read it to him. And between us, we had a pretty good idea of the life he led away from home.
I remember a time when he as to check in his boarding pass. I had to stand behind a pane of glass looking at him going through customs along a very long corridor. And when he finally disappeared from view, my mom would then take us to the observation floor where we could see the planes. She used to pick out my dad’s plane and we would wait for quite a while before we could see him board it. Those were the days where you had to walk to your plane on foot when you left the terminal.
And I always saw him. He couldn’t always see us, but we waved anyway. Just 2 weeks later, we would have our first postcard.
I always assumed that life must have been pretty exciting for him. I never realized that, adventure aside, he must have missed us a lot. To him, it must be simply an exciting job. But he must have spent a lot of time alone.
I am an adult now. I myself have had a fair few adventures in exotic places. I finally understand what he must have felt like being separated from those he held dear. I know the world was different then. I believe that back then, he must have taken several planes just to get to Addis Ababa or even Nairobi. It must have taken him several days. It must have been difficult.
He traveled for more than a decade, eventually settling down with us. As my brother and I were growing up, he spent a lot of time with us, only occasionally making trips to Australia on business. But I often caught him with that 'faraway' look in his face. He must have wished that he had someone to relate to apart from talking to us about where he been and what he saw.
A feeling I know too well.
Nowadays, whenever I travel, I make sure I don’t take the direct flight. I never do. I simply love airports for it reminds me of those days so long ago. Quite sometime back, I was in the Bandaranaike Airport when all of a sudden I began to have this feeling that I knew the place from ‘somewhere before’. It was only later on when I was back on board a plane when I realized that my dad had been there several times before and had recounted the place in great detail to me when I was a child. When I met him later that night and told him that, he looked at me in a ‘now you know’ look.
I realise now, the essence of those tales he told me and I have now the greatest respect for him. The last time I was in a huge terminal in Dubai waiting for a flight 6 hours later, I had a chance to take a good look at the people around me. They all were separate individuals. Each having their own lives. Each having their own tales. And each having their loved ones missing them.
I hope they tell their tales to their children.