Cloud Nine: A Couple of Peasant Eyes in the Air (Draft 2)

In my growing up, I learnt that aeroplanes, or flying machines as we used to call them, were also modes of transport. It seemed, however, a mode of transport that some of us could only envision in our dreams. A thought of flying was almost an unrealistic, somewhat quixotic notion. But the very thought conjured wild fantasies in us, especially me. We’d watch with gratification as aeroplanes passed by. It was what we called a ‘spitfire’ which amused us the most. This aircraft seemed to fly higher than others, and so it looked very tiny, like a silver swallow against the wide blue of the sky. The ‘spitfire’ always left a trail of white smoke hanging in the sky. Somehow these machines seemed to fly only when the sky was cloudless. It was even more exhilarating to sit down, long after the plane had disappeared out of our vision, and watch the smoke as it slowly dissipated. Even to this day, I have no idea what that plane was, or why it emitted smoke, or whatever it was that appeared like smoke in our eyes. As kids we made paper planes and jubilantly threw them in the air. He whose plane balanced well airborne and flew longer was the captain to be credited. I was an expert in paper planes – the almost always credited captain.

Years went by and I transitioned from a boy to an adult – a metamorphosis that continues to make me glance back down memory lane. Still, I had not travelled by air. In fact, I had never considered doing so. Although as an adult I understood planes better and heard stories about soaring in the air, flying just wasn’t my thing. But I did envy people who flew, yet I couldn’t imagine myself inside of an aeroplane. Then one day it happened – with a blend of two potent feelings - fear and excitement. But it happened. Out of sheer luck I must confess… I was randomly picked and sent on an official duty far off at the capital city. When my superiors informed me that I’d be flying, I was stunned. A blend of two potent feelings - fear and excitement - swirled in me.

That morning I didn’t eat anything. Not even the previous night. I had to starve myself for my own good. I’ve heard stories about people puking all over themselves aboard aircrafts. I regard myself a gentleman. And gentlemen don’t vomit inside aeroplanes. That’d be the worst way to lose face.

Hungry as I was, I went to the airport. I was two hours earlier. I didn’t want any chances of missing the flight. But now there was a little problem when I arrived. I wasn’t familiar with the check-in procedures but I joined the line nonetheless. I remembered one of my favourite comedy film characters, Mr. Bean. He always found his way out of difficult situations. The trick was simple – be silent, just watch and do what everyone else does. I followed that advice.
            With Mr. Bean in my mind, things were quite smooth. I watched as my bag was weighed, thrown on a conveyor belt and disappeared behind scenes.  Then, like everyone else, I had to pass through a scanner. I didn’t mind the search and all. But I didn’t quite like it when the security lady requested for my belt and shoes. I felt discomfited as I unbuckled my belt and clasped my trousers in position. Some of us belt for a functional reason.

The plane was smaller than I anticipated. I wedged into a seat by the window and looked around, bracing myself for an odyssey of the year. Though it was a gauche feeling, I felt somewhat like a parvenu - a lowlife thrust in echelons to which he didn’t belong. Many seats were empty. It wasn’t crammed like in buses at the town rank. No one was standing up in the aisle. There were no vendors screaming with bowls of bananas and maize cobs. No shrieking babies and foul-smelling armpits from bodies standing and leaning against your seat. The atmosphere was different – almost alien. Everyone was silent. Then a voice crackled from a speaker concealed somewhere within the plane, breaking the silence in a thousand audible splinters. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Then I fumbled for the seatbelt, following the instructions.

She was beautiful, the lady standing at the far end demonstrating safety measures. So it was true after all? That air hostesses are all good looking. Suddenly the small craft started rolling away, taking me along with it. Nice. It felt like a real bus; well, at least for a little while as it sped on the runway. The voice in the speaker came again, alerting me that we were about to take off. I held on tightly to my armrests, bracing myself for anything that would follow shortly. Air was abundant yet I gulped for more. I felt my intestines stirring as the aircraft ascended, pushing down the tarmac below. This must have been where I was supposed to vomit; I thought and felt proud of myself for being smart. My head swelled and a wave of nausea swept over me. Then suddenly I had eagle eyes. I could see roofs of every building, getting smaller and smaller. A giant snake of the Thamalakane River glimmered down there. Up and up I went.  Trees became blobs of green. Roads turned into line drawings, vehicles into tiny toys that ultimately vanished out of sight. Brown and yellowish shapes patched the landscape like haphazardly thrown pieces of fabric. Though it was a beautiful sight I was seeing, I still wasn’t yet settled.

I looked outside in space and there was a mist– a white smoke all around the plane. Something must have been burning, I thought in a trifle panic. But the insouciance of other passengers made me calm, albeit slightly. There weren’t any fire alarms blaring onboard. I shifted on my seat and held on tight. The mist gave way to yet another vision. Thick masses of white and gray mountains hovered just below me, like giant cotton wool balls. So dazzling I wanted to reach out and scoop out a handful. It was a sea of what looked to me like clouds. There were clouds below me and clouds above me. What a romantic sight! If only my girl and I could live in a place like this. We’d walk on clouds every day. On cloud nine. I smiled, my face pressed against the small windowpane. Gone was the discomfort. I was floating in dreamland.
 

The gorgeous girl came smiling along the aisle, pushing a trolley filled with goodies. She offered me an assortment of snacks and drinks to choose from. How I wished they could do that in buses! Road travelling would be such a wonder. I settled for Coke and a packet of peanuts. I didn’t want anything that would disconcert my stomach.
 

The crackling voice in the speaker, again. I nearly choked on a mouthful of Coke. This time I listened intently as the pilot informed us on a few facts. I learnt that we were about 9 kilometres above the ground. It made sense and I could believe it. What I didn’t slightly believe was the speed at which we were supposedly cruising. It just couldn’t be. I know how speed feels like. I’ve jolted my Volkswagen Golf GTI at an adrenaline-pumping speed of 260km/h. Trees were whooshing past me in a scary blur. Every car that had been ahead of me was suddenly behind and rapidly disappearing in my rear-view mirror. That was real, plausible speed. Now this guy was telling me we were cruising at 700 kilometres per hour, and he expected me to believe him. Truth was, the plane seemed to be dragging at a snails’ pace and at times it looked stationary.

As I was just beginning to enjoy the trip, I was told the aircraft was beginning its descent to Sir Seretse Khama Airport in Gaborone. It was not even an hour since the flight left Maun in a journey of almost a thousand kilometres. By road, the journey stretches for over 10 hours. How then could such a journey be covered in such a short period of time? It was unbelievable.

I felt a sudden wave of queasiness as the plane arched downward. Outside, an aerial view of the city swayed beneath the craft wing. I gripped the armrests and closed my eyes. The Coke and the peanuts in my stomach stirred. The hind, main wheels of the aircraft hit the tarmac of the runway. When the other wheels touched the ground, the plane rolling towards the terminal, I opened my eyes. Indeed I had arrived – safe and sound. I had at last taken a ride in what used to be an unrealistic dream. Contrary to the many stories I had heard about first time flying, I did not experience any embarrassing situations. As I walked to the check out point, I looked up at the clouds and marvelled at the fact that just a few minutes ago; I was hovering above those clouds. It was the fastness and comfort of the journey that appealed to me the most. I found myself looking forward to my return trip.