Episode 66
Travelling Light E066S02 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Sixty Six.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
16th Shebath 851
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
We did not have long on Potfarne Station – barely 12 hours, in fact. So as soon as we had finished at the docks, I went with Sandé to meet her friend, Ajim Atyuo, the community radio host whom I mentioned in my previous missive.
“Is he a producer as well as a presenter then, if he is in charge of scheduling?”
Sandé snorted. [laughing] “He’s a bit of everything, I think! He’d be scrubbing the toilets in there if Station Maintenance didn’t do it for him.”
“I know the type,” I said, thinking of people I have worked with in various community projects over the years. “And you call him Atyuo, not Ajim?”
“Oh, yes. Well spotted. Ajim is his family name. It goes before the given name here. And, uh… Well, just so you know, he doesn’t always make the best first impression. But he’s a sweetheart really, I promise!”
I have come to trust Sandé’s judgement on most matters. Besides, I know etiquette varies wildly from culture to culture. So I tried not to be too disconcerted when Atyuo greeted us with less enthusiasm than would be polite in Emerraine.
“Sandé told me about you,” he drawled, stirring his drink with a languid gesture. He had yet to actually look at me. “You’re the, uh… religious chap.”
“Not a chap,” I said. “Certainly religious though, I will give you that.”
“They’ve come all the way from Serran,” Sandé prompted.
Atyuo’s brow crinkled. “Serran? Is that the Bychan System?” I confirmed that it was, and Atyuo perked up slightly. “That’s a bloody long way.”
“You’re telling me.”
He seemed to warm to me after that, asking me questions about Serran and my travels, which I answered as best I could.
“And you have an interest in radio? Sandé said you wanted to be on the show.”
“I have an interest in everything,” I said frankly. “But I would love to see the studio, if possible. And it would be a great honour to be part of a broadcast.”
“Hm. You’ve a good voice. Good speaker. Which segment?”
“I thought maybe, the advice show?” suggested Sandé. “Or Outside In? Uh, that’s the cultural segment,” she added for my benefit.
Atyuo glanced at me, eyes skimming away from mine before they could quite make contact. “Do you have a preference? Or, put it like this – do you have a problem? Something we could dig into on the agony aunt?”
I certainly have some things I could probably do with hearing another person’s perspective on. But while I was starting to see a better side of Atyuo, I still did not much fancy baring my soul before him and all his listeners.
“I do not think I have anything that would suit,” I said, quite honestly, in my opinion. I expect agony aunts prefer rather more concrete, actionable questions than just ‘I have a lot of feelings in a lot of directions, almost all contradictory.’
“I think you’d be perfect for Outside In, personally,” Sandé said. Then, to Atyuo, she added, “They’re a writer. They’ve been all over the place.”
“I would not say ‘writer’. I am collecting stories, not writing them. For our community archive,” I explained.
This seemed to stir Atyuo’s interest. “An archive? Of what?”
“All sorts. Um. Stories, interviews, ethnographies. Songs and recipes. It is a record of some of the people I have met, aspect their cultures.”
The table between us jiggled in a manner I strongly suspected was caused by Sandé kicking Atyuo in the shin. “Just like you, see?”
I did not realise how much Atyuo had perked up until he slumped back down, like an inflatable figure suddenly losing all its air.
“Not like me at all,” he grumbled into his tea cup. “I’ve never been anywhere.”
“Would you like to travel more?” I asked.
Atyuo looked at me, finally meeting my eye, though only for an instant. And I realised; he was exhausted. The languid posture, the disinterest. Some of it was personality, certainly. But mostly I think he was just fantastically tired.
“Yes,” he said, his voice quiet. “Yes, I w-would like that. Very much.” A sardonic expression twisted over his face. He dropped his eyes. “But who would look after the station? Speaking of, I should get back. If you’d like to be on the segment, pop down around 8.15. More than enough time to get you settled in.”
Sandé’s face fell in open dismay. “Atyuo! Don’t leave now – I’ve missed you!”
“Yeah. Missed you to. But, uh. You know.”
He jerked his head in the direction of the door, and shambled off without another word. Sandé watched him go, utterly crestfallen.
“Will you have chance to see him again before you head home?”
She blew out her cheeks. [sighs] “I’ll have time. It’s whether he wants to see me, really.”
“I do not mean to be rude, but is he…”
“Alright? No. No he’s not. [sighs] He had a bad break-up last year. Really bad. Think, ‘seven years down the drain in a weekend’ sort of bad.”
[wincing] “That is rough. What happened?”
“Nothing, really. That’s the worst of it. She just broke it off. I think it would have been easier on him if she’d cheated or something. At least then he could be angry. But she wasn’t happy. Wasn’t happy with him. He’s been burying himself in work ever since.”
Her face grew fierce, jaw jutting out. “Don’t you worry, though. I’ll get through to him. He’s going to take a proper break, and more besides.”
I could not help but laugh. I have never heard friendship sound so menacing.
For what it is worth, Atyuo did seem more cheerful at the recording studio later. He was still reserved but I think he enjoyed our conversation as much as I did.
As he walked me out afterwards, I asked if he wanted to come for a drink or something. Spending time with a relative stranger can feel like less pressure than a friend, sometimes. Especially if that friend is as intense as Sandé.
“That’s kind but no. I should get home. I’m on the morning show in, uh… 6 hours. Urgh. But thank you for your time. It’s a fascinating faith, I’d love to learn more.”
“Driskius is home to a number of our communities,” I said, naming a planet in the same system as Potfarne Station. “I believe there are good transport links between here and there.”
Atyuo did not really smile at any point in the brief time I knew him. But his eyes brightened at that. “I thought you said your faith didn’t do conversions.”
“We do not proselytise. We accept converts though. But to be clear, I am not suggesting you convert. I just think you need a holiday and visiting Driskius might be a good excuse.”
Atyuo’s face softened, making him look more tired than ever. “Thank you. I’ll, uh… consider it. Good night.”
I wish I could have done more. But a grief like Atyuo’s takes more than a few cheerful conversations to heal. I am comforted to know he has a friend like Sandé at his side. If her love is half as sharp as the rest of her, I think he will do rightly.
[The click of a data stick being inserted into a drive that whirs as it reads]
The Traveller
Entry SE85116-1. An account of a traveller for the faith, as recorded on Potfarne Station Community Radio.
Key words: community; identity; interview; literature and media; philosophy and theology; Potfarne Station; Potfarne Station Community Radio.
Notes:
When Ajim Atyuo, the principle host of Potfarne Station Community Radio, extended an invitation to talk about myself, my faith and my travels on Outside In, the station’s weekly showcase of different cultures, I agreed gladly. As the interview approached, however, I began to grow anxious.
Your letters of recommendation remain in my possession, you have already put your faith in me, and I have already been living under the privilege of that expectation. But the thought of representing my community to an audience of unseen, unheard strangers, set my heart racing.
By the time I was in the studio itself, I was quite sick with nerves. My headphones were slipping, the padded covers making my ears sweat. The microphone stared me down, patient as a snake.
Then, Atyuo spoke. “You know, I get letters about this segment all the time. It’s one of the most popular parts of our whole broadcast schedule.”
He spoke off-handedly, adjusting his microphone without meeting my eyes. But there was a weight behind his words, steady as a hand upon my shoulder.
“Our listeners love hearing people’s stories. They’ll love hearing yours.”
It was a small kindness. And I have always been taught that small kindnesses are the stitching that keeps the world whole. The On Air light flicked on.
“Welcome back to PSCR, Potfarne’s favourite community radio station. And only community radio station, but who’s counting. Stay tuned for Outside In, where we bring the world to you, after this word from Station Management…”
My nerves dropped away until it felt absurd to think I had ever been anxious at all. This was not a test, I was not being held to some impossible standard. It was just talking to people. And that, I know how to do.
The segment opened with an introduction from Atyuo telling his listeners the broad strokes of who I was and where I came from. Then, he addressed me.
“Let’s start with more about this travelling business,” he said. “How is it different from any other sort of missionary expedition?”
“Well, for one, I am not trying to convert anybody. We do not recruit in that way. Our faith teaches that there is truth and light in all manner of beliefs and philosophies. Our small sliver of truth is no more or less precious than anyone else’s.
“Besides, mission is… Well, I am sorry if this offends anyone listening but I find it a fundamentally disrespectful practice.”
Atyuo raised his eyebrows, but did not argue. “It’s more a pilgrimage then?”
I pulled a face. “Pilgrimages have an end in mind. I travelled first to Kerrin. It seemed an interesting place and had a community of believers to connect with. But it was not sacred place in itself. Or, no more than anywhere else. Since leaving Kerrin, I have had no particular destination in mind.”
“You’re just wandering about, then?” Atyuo said, his tone teasing.
“Uh, purposeful wandering, I would say! The focus of my travels is actually the stories I collect for our archive.”
I told him about the archives themselves, how some temples have them and most do not. I felt a stirring of pride when I explained that Emerraine, as the largest city in the province, houses the principle archive for the region.
I sensed Atyuo wanted to hear more, but he asked instead how the tradition of faithful travel came about.
“We are a very community-focused faith. Most temples regularly meet with other faith groups and host support groups and social gatherings for local people.
“But despite this, we do have a tendency to become a bit… Inward looking, is the phrase we usually use. We become so wrapped up in the local, the immediate, that we can lose touch with the wider world. And the world is so wide these days!
“So the tradition developed of people undertaking journeys with that precise purpose; to expand the knowledge of the whole community.”
“And the people who undertake these journeys, how are they chosen? Are you nominated by your fellow worshippers, or can anyone who fancies it have a go?”
[laughing] “There are no specific qualifications needed! The most important thing is that they are going for the right reasons.”
Atyuo raised a brow. “And what is the right reason? Because the Light – God – told you to?”
“We do not believe in a god in that fashion,” I corrected gently. “The Light is not a person. It is an idea about how we see the world.
“I believe – my faith teaches – that the foundation of the universe is divine. And this divinity is closely kin to love. When we talk of the Light, we are talking about the manner by which we discern that foundational essence, not the essence itself.
“Following the Light, letting the Light shine upon me, there are ways of saying I am seeking to respond to the holiness at the centre of things – to that foundational love, if you want to put it like that.
“Of course, we have our rites and rituals. There is plenty of room for personal experiences of the divine, but there are also… expectations. I have always felt held to a high moral standard by my fellow worshippers, which is both precious and difficult sometimes. And there is a lot of singing!”
Atyuo almost smiled. “I’ve been wondering. Why don’t your fellow worshippers just travel more, if you’re worried about insularity? Why all this rigmarole of choosing a representative and the archive and all the rest?”
[laughing] “Why not just grow wings and fly? Interplanetary travel is easier now than it has ever been, but it is not easy. It costs money and time and all sorts of other resources; physical, emotional and spiritual.
“Translator devices have transformed the ways we can interact with other people, but they have not brought a single planet any closer to another. And it seems a very hard thing, to say to a person who has no interest, let alone means, to go into the world themselves that as such, they have no right to know about it.”
Atyuo nodded, seeming satisfied. “Very true. That’s how this programme began. Outside In. Bringing the world to those who can’t go to it. You mentioned the inner resources needed for this journey. What’s the hardest part of travelling?”
I faltered, trying to think what I could say without being altogether too personal for a public broadcast. “There have been a few difficult moments. The hardest thing is the most obvious; being away from home. I miss… belonging.
“I was adopted as young child by my grandmother – she said she was too old for me to call her mother and besides, grandmothers have more fun! She was the warden at the temple at Emerraine – a position almost equivalent to a priest.
“We had our own living space but we lived in the temple complex. People were always coming to visit my grandmother for advice or company or prayer. I grew up feeling embedded in that world, among those people.
“I did not continue my formal education after school, but moved into a bunk-house while I worked various jobs. Most young adults in Emerraine live in communal housing for a few years after leaving home. I was surrounded once more by people I knew, who knew me and who understood my ways.
“That is the hardest thing. I am as strange to others as they are to me. I cannot always communicate as well as I would like, or make the same assumptions I can rely upon at home.
“And sometimes, I get lonely. I have made friends since I left, many of them, and some very close to my heart. But living in perpetual motion [laughs] is… difficult. I always know I will be moving on again.”
Atyuo’s voice was gentle – prompting, not prying. “So, why not stop?”
I thought, trying to find the right words. But in the end, the simplest answer was the most honest. “I am not done yet. That is the truth of it. I am not done.”
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on an idea by H.R. Owen. You can see Matt's illustration for the entry on our social media accounts.
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[Fade to silence.]
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