The Joys of Traveling and Racial Profiling

In Transit

Train stations, airport terminals, subway stops: soulless spaces full of distracted, stressed zombies, or magical sets for fleeting, interlocking human stories?

I consider myself a happy camper especially when it comes to traveling. But I don’t like packing, mostly doing it the night before, that’s why I never achieved to become a “light traveler” and it never works for me to not have extra clothes, shoes and other personal stuffs.

I love being in a nice new place and I don’t mind going back to places I’ve been especially if it has the fondest memories (like a ❤ lost).

But there are times when you can be a victim of not so good experience — that made a mark on me and shocked me to realize that racial profiling really does happen, it happened to me.

Called out of the line

I was traveling home from West Africa via Heathrow airport in London. The flight would be long and I was happy to not have long lay over but have enough time to navigate that vast space with lots of distractions.  I didn’t carry that much luggage and my hand carry was just my medium backpack and computer (which back then were not as light as a feather as we have now).

I am never a fan of power dressing when traveling but I don’t dress shabbily too, never. I maintain a certain standard that I thought was more for comfort than for style.

I was wearing my rugged faded jeans loosely hanging on my waist without a belt, folded off the seams so it doesn’t touch the toilet floor either in the plane or anywhere public;

then was wearing cotton tee-shirt under a pink  cotton front zipper sweater with a hoodie;

and for foot wear I can’t travel without my loyal Birkenstocks 

I very much fit the Seven Things You Should Always Wear On A Plane.  But of course compared to the other passenger, I am plain.

When the plane landed in Heathrow airport, and we made our way out to the immigration, I was called out from the line by one airport ground crew (of certain decent but not English). No explanations given. He was the same height as me (smallish) and looking not so happy (grumpy). Asked for and looking in my passport, by that time was two layer because I had some visa in the old and my Sierra Leone visa was in the new one, flicked through and started asking me questions — which at that time I did mind considering what I know about such incidents and the nature of my work — or maybe not.

But the manner of asking and the way the ground crew was looking at me was condescending, insinuating something, trying to goad me or maybe to scare me, which would never happen knowing I didn’t do anything wrong. I also noticed that among the hundreds of passengers that exited that door, I was the only one called out and scrutinized — NO FAIR!

Where are you from? he asked.

I answered referring to my passport which he was flicking like it’s a paperback (almost wanting to be sarcastic but I controlled myself)

Where are you going? asked again, sounding irritated. 

Home.

What did you do in Sierra Leone?

Work.Check my passport.

Are you with other people? 

No

Sighing. Still not smiling. I was waiting for the clincher question but it never came — he let me go. 

I was hoping he would ask for my number and e-mail and I’d be more than happy to give him but he didn’t ask … too bad.

Moving On

As I moved along to get to my transit station for the connecting flight — good thing I have enough time, I was thinking …

why was I called from the line?

was I profiled? 

was it random?

but why only me?

I never of course found the answers to my questions but then I realized, anyone can be racially profiled even without provocation.

♣

The smaller our world gets the more paranoid we become of the people next to us in planes, bus, trains and even the cars driving next to us. It happened post 9/11, people become distrustful and profiling become more rampant to the point of abuse.

The time it happened to me, check in time for international flight became 3 hours (or more) instead of 2 hours to accommodate all the checks and the reason I wear loose-fitting clothes and slippers was to avoid undressing in public. The only metal object I have with me all the time was my ring rosary on my middle finger and toe rings on my left toes and the wires in my bras. I can easily slip through the x-ray, never causing line build-up.

♣

The world become xenophobic but globalization is inevitable. There’s no stopping people from moving everywhere — we are such a mobile world that in spite of the dangers, threat to the environment and rising costs we find ourselves getting on any way to any moving transport to bring us to the next destination.

Old Airport … New Airport … Same Life Mission

For as long as I remember, I didn’t really have a big day like most people do (I think).

My days are always unexpected so I am more surprised most of the time than being prepared. Meetings, presentations and training are never really that nerve wracking experience because I am never alone to hurdle all those around the table and speaking in front of people is like talking to weeds (at least that was once told to me when I was training for it).

So what is there to prepare for?

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I am a creature of habit — I like doing things over and over if it works for me but at the same time I also try to test my limits as long as it doesn’t include open space under my feet. So when I move around, I go check out the places before I even set foot in the car, or the plane.

After six years of comfortable life in Cambodia I decided to accept a challenge to work in West Africa. A wise woman told me that

… you will know in your heart when it’s time to go, so I went … 

I accepted the new posting for similar type of job and started psyching myself not knowing what to expect. Closed up my project, prepared all my hand over documents and started joining most parties since it was the holiday season but I was never saying goodbye.

I am never good  at it, at leaving or saying I am and I don’t like to promote it either, just wanted to slip away and be off somewhere until I re-emerges in another location.

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Fast forward to the next destination I was caught up in the excitement of the new destination, Sierra Leone. Not knowing more than what I read, thanks to Lonely Planet, and to the words of wisdom said by those who’ve been there before me or married to someone from that continent, I was not really expecting anything more than that. I psyched myself to not imagine anything more that where I was from so that my bubble won’t be depleted immediately.

At the connecting airport, in London, I was getting all the trepidation of a ring master entering the lions den for the first time, I kept my ipod on all the time – my calming “new wave” music, I kept my book handy, I tried to chat up people in the waiting area since my flight was not until very early the next morning, I have all the time to “kill” and get ready.

The moment I boarded the plane, it was a different story altogether, it’s like I am back to my comfort zone and was all ready to face the new adventure. When it landed, in an island airport, I knew it would be in an adventure. Where else can you go where the passengers are picked up by an old Russian helicopter flown by Russian pilot in a West African country? Only in Freetown. If the helicopter is broken, there is the amphibian boat to bring you to the mainland and both carriers takes 15 minutes. If you’re that scared, you take the slow boat which takes anything and everything or you take the big 4×4 vehicle cut through the jungle and take the 4 hour drive to the capital. I chose (and enjoyed) the noisy, shaky feel of the orange helicopter and with it all  my days, months of anticipation and fear if I will like my new post had gone up, up and away.

 

That began a two year of adventure and education into another culture and began a new understanding of what life is really all about.

When September Ends

Parking the clogs after a nice harvest … getting the bottles ready for the new press @ Chez Gerard

Let’s put a stop into it … I am remembering the taste of last years wine down the cellar Getting them ready for the market @ Chez Gerard

We missed that bunch … Now withering in the sun @ the Vineyard Gerard

♥

Memories of the times when I went to visit Verzé (in France) for the annual harvest followed by the wine and cheese tasting and going home drunk from the best wine around the countryside and from happiness to be around friends.

I wish to go back … when?

Memories of Taize

Taize altar … Icon of Jesus

I remember my times in Taize, France … when I was in Lyon for work I make it a point I visit Taize and spend an afternoon and evening of prayers there with friends. More photos are available at taize-a-place-where-you-find-rest-for-your-tired-soul-and-feet

Happy Monday!