Reflections on a journey

Flying and ageing

It must have been the white hair. Or perhaps a more than usually stressed expression on my face. It was Tuesday afternoon and I was carrying 30kg of luggage in two cases for my three week trip to Kenya. But on Leominster station a lady probably in her thirties asked me ‘Can I help?’ I thanked her and said I was OK, thank you. The kind of help one would have offered a lady a couple of generations ago, is now proffered to people with white hair. Or with stressed expressions, if I had one.

Then in London, fighting to get through a packed platform at Earl’s Court to get from one train to another, a man I brushed past said ‘Ok young man’ as I said sorry for bumping him. Was it sarcasm? Perhaps I’m too sensitive.

Then on Wednesday morning on the way to Terminal 5 on bus no 423 I used my bus pass (Ok I was asking for it, but why pay when you don’t have to?) and it didn’t scan - it had the previous evening. The driver gave me a nod through anyway. Kind.

Then in Terminal 5, having checked in and, queuing to drop my bag, a nice BA lady pointed me down a different and empty lane to get my visa checked and drop my bag. I was all through security and everything and having breakfast in Giraffe in record time. It was magic.

But had she offered me that lane because - I looked old? Oh yes I will be honest, she had to show exactly where to scan my boarding pass - it was not blindingly obvious to me where the actual scanner was, whereas to young people it seems to be intuitive.

It was all humbling and yet - I benefitted so I can’t complain. And I got to Nairobi and from there via Lodwar to my destination in the north west, Lokichoggio, not far from the South Sudan border, all safely by Thursday lunchtime. After a meal of rice and beans, and a sleep, and a cool-water bath using two buckets because the shower doesn’t work, I was teaching four and a half hours on Paul’s letter to the Galatians on Friday. And two and a half hours on Saturday. And preaching, today, Sunday. And I still feel well and looking forward to tomorrow, Monday, for another four and a half hours, and so on for three weeks. Not all on Galatians all will be relieved to hear.

We all know that we never feel as old as we are. It is one of the pleasant vanities of ageing. We are also aware of the courtesies extended to old age nowadays - Priority Seating etc on buses and trains, people offering to stand for you . When I am less able and strong than I am, I will no doubt be even more grateful for the kindesses. And boy was it nice not to have to queue for long at Heathrow.

The same courtesy did not extend to Nairobi where I was standing for 45 minutes with others, while finger prints were taken of people passing through immigration. But the immigration officer looked at my passport and my visa and - waved me through - did I imagine it or did he look at my hair? No finger printing anyway.

Are people with white hair not a threat to Kenya? Nice to think so.

It would be even nicer though if they had a line in Immigration along with the various passport types they invite to queue up: ‘People with White Hair’. I’d swallow my pride and line up like a shot.