Sonic Borders
Sounds of Crossing
I avoided my diary for days because I was reluctant to write about what was in my mind. During the past few weeks, I’ve found myself drowning in my own thoughts, and disconnecting from the sounds surrounding me, with a few exceptions.
I think I’ll start with those.
During the first few days of social distancing due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I was furious because of the Mexican music festival, Vive Latino, which was still taking place despite all the conversations around canceling massive events. During two days, Mexico City would bring together over 70,000 people at the same time that people were fighting for their lives all over the world, spearheaded by Spain and Italy. After several ranting tweets to Mexican officials and performers who were headlining the music festival, Carlos Vives who via Twitter encouraged his co-nationals to stay home, I gave up.
I kept arguing for streaming the festival instead of holding it live, and exposing thousands of people to a possible contagion. *Sigh* It felt like my rants were heard, when artists, musicians, concert halls, and other cultural venues started announcing their live streamings in solidarity for staying at home. The first one that brought joy to my heart was the duo of two of my lifetime favorites, Alejandro Sanz and Juanes’ #LaGiraSeQuedaEnCasa.
This concert was followed by many others. The most recent, Aleks Syntek’s “Más Fuerte de lo Que Pensaba” I ended up watching as a viewing party. I have to admit, I enjoyed the pre-2000’s bit a great deal.
About that which I have been avoiding. These events are happening as tip-toeing around our feelings, to help us forget about that void in the pit of our stomach that won’t let you sleep at night. It all comes down to putting my finger on the sound of feelings, of those sensations that take us through the days at this moment in time. To me, it comes down to fear, the sound of fear itself.
Amidst all the uncertainty in our lives, I learned that my brother and sister-in-law were stranded in Palawan, Philippines. They had traveled to Myanmar and Thailand right before the COVID-19 epidemic was classified as a pandemic. It seemed like lockdown and borders were closing right behind them. The day after they landed in Myanmar, its borders closed; the day after they landed in Thailand, visa requirements for Mexican citizens changed; the day after they arrived at their trip’s last country, the Philippines announced a 4-week lockdown of its international airport at Manila.
My brother’s voice through the voice notes started changing as the days went by. They started with a “there are worse places to be stranded in than an island in the Philippines,” up to a shakier, much less optimistic voice saying “the lockdown was just extended for six months; we’re on a tuc-tuc trying to get to the airport. I hope they don’t cancel our flight again”. It was their third attempt that week. The lockdown was pushed for five days, in an attempt to fly tourists out of Manila –if they could get there in time. Two of the three transcontinental flights were lost; they were rescheduled for the 22nd when no flights would fly internationally from Manila. Fifty hours later, they were home in Seville.
It was fear in his voice. Madrid’s empty Atocha train station poured out fear. The silence was no longer associated with serenity, but with fear. A shaky voice was no longer excitement, but fear as well.
My heart skips a beat with each ambulance that speeds past my window. It is a different void I feel from when Mexico’s seismic alert goes off. A different type of fear. The first is eager for cacophonic sounds, the latter is uneasy until there is complete silence, similar to an orchestra conductor swiveling their baton or closing their fist. I’ve negated thinking about sound because I’m in denial of feeling, mostly because fear is a feeling I am still learning to control.
So I breathe. Inhale and exhale. I try to forget through video chats, through walks and empty sounds. That’s what I’ve been trying to avoid.
