Somewhere in the World

Here I am, on my first 10 hiur flight from Moscow to Singapore, crying into my creamy chicken slops. There must be a poem somewhere out there that describes the feeling of being in transit. In a plane you have no internet, you have no country. It is unnatural, flying above the clouds over indiscript cities. I can barely ever focus on the in-flight entertainment, I usually just play a song on repeat for the endless hours. There are so many weird moments of metaphoric transit in our lives. On my flight to Japan I listened to Beyonce's Halo on repeat for the 9 hours. When my nanna passed away, I finally fell asleep to Claire de Lune by Flight Facilities.

I was telling some comrades at the festival about my nanna. How she was the most eloquent woman, who until her literal dying moments was writing scripts for her activist news radio program on 3CR radio. She was also a bit of a ditzy old lady, asking the KFC staff for some 'chook chook' when we went out for her favourite birthday meal. She would giggle like a silly child when she he had wine, her tummy jiggling. I was so lucky to see her only a few days before her sudden passing. I wish I could remember more from that last one on one conversation I had with her, about the nazi group turning up to one of her protests, about the beginnings of her first radio program. Her feeling like she had so much energy that 'I could just go out side and dig a trench!'. I told my new friend, the graphic artist from Pakistan about how she had met Gaddafi and he had called her an 'uncut diamond.' I told about how she discovered the first planning of Pine Gap in Central Australia. I mentioned how she was held in the US airport by men with guns as she was in transit to Cuba - as though she was a threat that could single handedly take down the whole US government. He said he wanted to write a graphic novel on the life of my nanna. It is amazing though what can happen in these moments of transit.

I miss her so much in these moments of my own self activism. Since her passing, we have found notes from her autobiography, written on the day I was born - her first grandchild by blood. We also found a letter she wrote to Japanese peace groups, telling them that I was studying Japanese in highschool, and that maybe one day I would meet the gensuikyo peace group. Like an Oracle, she predicted this before I had given it any thought at all. She always wanted me to follow in her footsteps and be an activist, but it is also because of her that I am resisting it so. The tough-as-nails anti racism activist Jane Eliot summarised it so well. When asked when she would stop being an activist, when she would retire from it, she started to cry and said that she would only stop fighting once racism had been eradicated, and as such she would be fighting until the day she died. This was literally true for my nanna. A peace activist who died all battered and bruised after her fall, still with an endless task ahead of her. Activism is a harsh, lonely job. Particularly women activists I feel are single old maids who spend their days hunched over their news sources, trying to make their voices heard. I dont want this for myself, but I'm almost destined for it. It would be so much easier to work an easy 9-5 job, with the white picket fence and a golden retriever, but I don't think I could ever be satisfied with this. I'm so unsatisfied with my job, and hate it so much when the company exploits us workers. I don't feel i could ever just sit back and accept that. Not when there is so much to do in the world, and when my own work friends don't see their own value.

In this transit zone, flying somewhere over the middle east, I am filled with a terrified dread of arriving home. I have had such wonderful conversation with people from around this vast but small globe. Aussies are so painfully anti-intellectual. Even a political conversation, if you manage to get past the 'geeze mate, no need to talk about such heavy stuff!' comment, is usually a frantic argument filled with emotion. Even when we were discussing Syria, or Islam, or communism, or the welfare systems, all conversations I had in Russia were calm. It was a discussion over dinner, and a sharing of opinion. We listened and we said our part. I dont think I've ever had conversation like this, even with my own like minded family. It's a pure acceptance of position and a sharing of knowledge. I wish there was some way to maintain this when I get home.

My biggest regret of the festival was that there was not enough time to have this conversation over a beer. I think there were only two real opportunities for this. I feel I've met the most interesting people of my 27 years, but have only scratched the surface of what we could share together. Rendezvous cut short. Just one more shisha and discussion about the protest nature of Shia Islam would be amazing.

I'm glad I have the rest of the week off when I get home. I kind of hope my jet lag will help with maintaining my frantic passion. I want to find a new job that not only pays me what my labour is worth, but a job that does good for the world. Like Dorine from Ghana who is working towards aids education in her region, or Thearno from Greece who works in organising NGOs, or Max from Sydney who is helping promote indigenous businesses. Here I am, Fiona the travel agent. Perhaps it is about time I stopped riding off the dying pride in my peace group the CICD, and the nepatistic name of my nanna. Maybe it's time I made a change.

The news of the world seems to make much more sense after this festival. The enemy is not Islam, or communism, but Imperialism. Unfortunately, the enemy is at the moment America. I remember my nanna saying after the illegal war on Iraq was declared 'I don't believe in hate, but I really do hate America!'. It's so hard to deny this when the person in the aisle in front of me is watching vapious movies like Bay Watch, and another watching Captain America. 'America the brave' is such a poor country, waging war on other countries to prevent communism and to prevent the sovereignty these countries would gain if the gas pipelines were ever completed. It would be hard to maintain the value in the US dollar if these dependent countries started creating value in their own currencies. It's such a disgusting state. The middle east was the home to western civilisation, and now it's being killed by our MacOverlords. They have made us dumb and complacent, and have skewed the wars to be about religion and fear. We really do need to continue fighting against Imperialism, in the spirit of the WFYS festival.

In the melting snow on a Moscow street we said our goodbyes. 'Until we meet again, somewhere in the world'. Thankfully the world is getting smaller, and for us, flights are cheap. I would love to travel with my new friends to Damascus and party in the underground bunkers like the world is ending, because perhaps for them it is. I would love to go skiing in Kyrgyzstan. I want to meet with both Palestinians and Israelis in Gaza. I would like to help with aid in Yemen. I want to discover the whole subculture of youth from each section of the globe - Africaan protest music culture from Uganda, and street art from Iraq or Iran or Afghanistan. I want to watch more black comedy on sbs. I want to drink coffee with the Costa Ricans and dance with the Cubans. There is so much life in the world. Maybe that's the aim of activism. Maybe that's what keeps you going - focussing on the life rather than all the unnecessary deaths caused by wars and inequality.

I have met so many wonderful young people from so many countries, and here I am on a plane back to Australia. We really are a backwards land down under. I have no culture and no pride. I will spend my week off trying to find a job locally, because despite my complacency with my country, these things always need to start at home. There is so much work to do with changing the minds of the average Aussie, maybe that is a good first calling.

As long as I have the memory of my nanna, I know my passion won't die. I am so proud of her, and Australia should be too. I will definitely meet with my new friends somewhere on this wonderful planet, and the hope for this future meeting, when we have achieved so much more in our lives, will make the wait all the more worth while.Read more