Africa
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
(Warning: my host and therefore my site will be down for upgrading from May 9th to May 16th.)
Trip Installment #1:
Well, I must say that I had a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time on my overland trip. It was as much about the good company as it was the good places to visit. I was quite nervous when I went to the pre-departure meeting at a hotel in Nairobi; the first person I met when I was milling about near the meeting room was an Aussie named Tony who invited me to have a drink with 3 of his cute Aussie friends, Josh, Ben (Hawko), and Dan, who turned out to be a great group of guys. Of course we were late for the meeting but no worries. That's pretty much how the trip went; relaxed, open, and fun. There were 26 people in total; 3 couples, 2 or 3 attached off-trip, and the rest singles. Our median age was late-twenties with one twenty-year old. There were 14 Australians, 3 Germans, 3 Kiwis, 2 Brits, 1 Kenyan, 1 South African, and 2 Americans (the other American girl joined 5 days before the end of the trip and was continuing to Cape Town, so I was outnumbered and made fun of for being American most of the trip.) Our South African guide, Mische, was wonderful; only 22 and she's been leading tours around Africa for 3 years. She loves life on the road and it loves her. We had our driver James (Kenyan), a driver in training Sean (yet another Australian), and a cook John (Kenyan). We soon became one big happy, messy, bitchy, loving family.
The truck (mind you, not a bus) became our home for the next 3 weeks. It is a monstrous thing with secret compartments everywhere; the seats were high up and the luggage, safari chairs, tables, cook's things, dishpans, and everything else was underneath in locked places. The seats were fairly comfortable and we had business class and economy class. Business class was the front part of the truck that looks like a booth with 10 parallel seats and the plastic flaps down. There are 2 coolers in the middle to use as tables; 1 full of beer and soda and another for the cook's food. You could even play cards in business class without them flying everywhere. Economy class was like a wind tunnel. There were 5 rows of seats, 2 by 2 with an aisle in-between. There were more secret compartments under the aisle; our safe also had a name and one of us always kept the key. When in economy class, one just accepted the maddening wind and sun and tried to read and sleep as best as possible. The best thing about economy were the views; the plastic flaps were always open. We only closed them one day in southern Tanzania when our altitude was high and it was extremely cold and we were all sitting and shivering in our sleeping bags. We spent many long days traveling on the truck and some of us spent nights on it when we were too lazy to put up our tents or we needed a place with some privacy. We did not have a stereo for the first week and after we got one, the Aussies played a million Australian songs that they never failed to point out were better than American songs. Basically, I received much hell for being American but it was mostly in good fun. We can be annoying sometimes. At one campsite on Lake Malawi, we came across a separate group of 4 Americans and I can see why we have such a bad reputation. Loud, screechy accents and ostentatious, pushy behavior are our trademarks. I tried to dispel this American aura to my group probably without much success. No, they loved me for being me and I learned all kinds of inside names that Americans are called by other nationalities (I was sworn to secrecy.) Needless to say, you must learn to love the truck and the people on it or the trip will not be much fun at all.
We had rotating chores and other jobs (although some who should remain nameless (Josh and John) did not do much of anything.) Two big guys put the backpacks and tents in the truck every morning, two others were supposed to be filling the jerry cans with water, and one was supposed to stock and keep the bar. The rest of us rotated chores such as dishes, cook prep, truck cleaning, putting up the cook's tent, and days off in groups of three. We each had a tent partner. My tent partner started as an Australian named Glynis and we had a fun time together until near the end when the entire tent partner system disintegrated and we slept in other tents and places (those who shall remain nameless.) There was upgrading to be had at several of the campsites and I must say that Glynis and I were of one mind and usually took advantage of an available, cheap bed. These overland tours only have so many roads to travel on in Africa and there are only so many hours to be traveled in one day and therefore campsites run by Europeans with a homey Western feel are readily accessible. I am not sure how many companies run long tours along Eastern and Southern Africa but it is at least ten. Most campsites have a bar, dart board, and pool table. After we arrived at a campsite, we would put up the tent, set up our beds, and head to the bar (unless we had a job to do.) We usually carried several bottles of liquor with us to the bar (because we are cheap bastards) and bought mixers and beer. Two or three hours later dinner would be ready, we would eat at the truck, and then go back to the bar or beach or tent. I spent many fun hours with this motley crew at bars, on beaches, and during meals. There was also much pashing going on (an Aussie word, I think you can figure out what it is.) If you chased after someone on another truck at a campsite, you had to pay a $10 off-shore drilling permit. Only one guy, Dan, actually paid for one after much winjing (whining), which Mische stamped on his arm, belly and chest before he pursued someone we called Pizza Hut girl because she always wore a plain, red baseball hat.
There was a sort of prize for doing or saying the most stupid thing in one day called "the knob." One could receive the knob (a round piece of wood with the word KNOB carved on it) for any number of reasons, such as asking a stupid question such as "Is that Lake Malawi?" when we had not even entered the country of Malawi and it was the third day of the trip, or falling off a chair in a restaurant, or taking a poop in the ocean and telling people about it, or going into a pool with your camera strapped onto your back, or spilling a whole tray of drinks, or falling asleep on top of a bar, and other reasons I can't remember. At dinner we would nominate or "knobinate" each other. Sometimes the nominations were classic and sometimes they were lame; some nights we couldn't remember what we had done during the day. The person who had the knob decided on the best nomination and gave away the shame. You had to carry the knob with you at all times and if someone said "show me the knob" and you could not produce it, you owed that person 1 drink. If someone stole knob away from you in your carelessness, you owed them 2 drinks. I did manage to steal the knob from someone on one occasion. I also received the knob for something that I cannot say on my Web site as potential employers may be reading this. I can say it was a silly, silly comment with a long history that you would probably not find funny anyway and it involved my bare butt.
All the Aussies on my trip, and non-Aussies come to think of it, were imitating my accent and my manner of speech constantly. (Some sounded much better than others.) As I said before, being the only American, I was picked on quite frequently. I didn't mind the teasing, they loved doing it, and I felt like I was with a large group of siblings. I must say that the male Australian accent is very sexy and I did not mind hearing it on the trip. Australians and New Zealanders are a funny breed of people; usually very witty. There were about 7 extremely sharp, witty people who threw out dry, obtuse or incisive comments constantly, usually of a self-deprecating nature. I cannot compete with that type of humor but I can appreciate it. I think it's a cultural difference; they are constantly cutting each other down to size. Most Americans just don't do that (I can think of a few exceptions, like my friend Sara.) I will give you one example that you might find funny. On Monday, several of us were sitting around the pool at the campsite and I was waiting to catch my airport transfer while tying a necklace onto Ben's neck. The Australian boys were teasing me per usual but at the same time saying they loved me and I said "What am I going to do without you guys?" and Ben shot back "I don't know, develop a sense of self-esteem?" It was like that most of the time and I loved it. They also gave me a nickname that I loathe to repeat. Even worse, they made the nickname stick and everyone started calling me the name. The nickname came 3 days into the trip in the Serengeti when several of us were telling our "most embarrassing" stories. Unfortunately, I told one of my stories in front of Josh (one of the Australians) and the nickname stuck for the remainder of the trip. The word is American slang so it really meant nothing to any of them. It is of a crude nature and if you really want to know, I'll email it to you. I did have another nickname that I can tell you: Njeri (pronounced Jerry.) The driver James gave it to me because I live in Nairobi. It is a Kikuyu word that means girl. That is a much nicer nickname but does not have as much love.
The trip ended on such a high in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe that it is extremely hard to come back to work and reality. I can't quite decide what to do with myself. Our group had 4 "last nights" in a row because I don't think we could bear just one; it had to wind down slowly. But, we all take it for what it is, 3 weeks with very good people. We don't have to be lifelong friends or lovers but we enjoyed each other while it lasted. Why can't I be traveling with such people to such places all of the time? I know that there can't be highs without lows but my life should be lived like I lived it for the past three weeks; free, open, relaxed, drunk, happy, and full of laughter with new adventures and friends just one day away. (Yes, I am a true seppo at heart.)
Thursday, April 03, 2003
Starting this Sunday, I will be traveling on a 3-week camping trip that ends in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. I will be with 20 or so strangers, a driver, a guide, and a cook. We all cook, eat, travel, clean, and pitch tents together. These are called overland tours or “dirty underpants” tours as some locals call them because everyone gets really grungy and dusty. (I will be taking enough underpants.) I will be meeting my group this Saturday at 5 pm and then we leave at 9 am on Sunday morning. I am trepidous about the experience but I’m sure it will be wonderful. My friend teased me that my whole group would be missionaries but I doubt it.
My itinerary includes Tanzania: Arusha (which I have visited and have 2 contacts there), Ngorogoro Crater, Dar Es Salaam (where a guy I know will be dj-ing, hopefully while I pass through), Zanzibar, Mikumi National Park; Malawi: Lake Malawi; Zambia: Lusaka, Zambezi River; and Zimbabwe: Victoria Falls. I am not planning this thing to death; if I am not prepared for camping then I will manage somehow. I am trying to let this trip shape itself. Maybe I am tired of traveling and planning. Never thought I would say that.
Well, I really do love being here in Africa and some images will stay with me forever. It is hard to explain why I stay here and travel while there is a major war going on. I am very, very aware of security and safety issues. I can describe as much as I wish in order to share my experience, but, like most other things, being here is very different from the scenes I try to put in your imagination. Kenyans are removed from this American-Iraqi war just as Americans are removed from African wars. The events don't really affect you, so why bother? I don't know if this made US news, but 2 Kenyan drivers were taken by Iraqi soldiers and then rescued by the British. That story made major headlines just as a story of 2 Americans captured in the Congo civil war would make major headlines back home. Here at the UN, it's a bit different. People are more concerned because they have more international ties. I guess that sounds very cynical. Here is something that I wrote when I had had a strange night and I was upset about the state of the world and my place in it:
I am angry with Africa. What exactly am I doing here? What did I think I would find? This place is full of contradictions and it is turning me in every direction. I do not know which way is the right one but I know that I don’t belong here. Reality is very stark here; there is no veneer of comfort and affability. There is no safety net of any kind. People die constantly and life goes on. I was not prepared for that. I cannot go back to the person I was before; I feel like I have lost something innocent and gained something very adult in its place. The great beauty of the surroundings does not balance the suffering. I am just another white person in Africa discovering for myself things that many others have already turned away from. Genocide in Rwanda and war in Somalia, although they happened almost 10 years ago, feel very real to me now, like I am hearing the news for the first time. I want to turn my back on the callousness, the pain, the bloodlust, and the side of humankind that I wish we could overcome. Here it is too present. How can I turn my back when others have to live it every day? How many times in my life have I seen pictures of Africa but not really absorbed their meaning? They are too real to me now; the victims could be anyone that I see in the street. I have been here for over two months and I felt really afraid for the first time last night. It is a fear I am not familiar with and don’t know how to fight. Afraid of Africa killing me as it kills so many others, without sense, without care, without dignity. One image that particularly terrorizes me is pangas (clubs) with spikes of nails hitting the body. Many people in Rwanda died because of that weapon. I don’t understand war and I don’t understand Africa.
I don't feel that hopeless all the time. The day after I wrote that I wanted to stay another three months. The colonial legacy is something else that I can't quite swallow. I mean servants, askaris (guards), drivers, gardeners, "housegirls", treating most Africans in a subservient manner in general; it's all difficult for me. I did not grow up with any semblance or understanding of this master-servant lifestyle and I don't like becoming accustomed to it. If I do stay, I will create a different situation for myself. Europeans come here and stay because they have a level of lifestyle that they could not afford back home but it's like they wish it didn't have to be in Africa. They insulate themselves from the locals as much as possible. Not everyone is like that but many are. Maybe it's just easier that way, if you don't see the problems then there is no problem.
Anyway, I will try to update my journal during my trip but I won't be able to put any photos up until I get back to Nairobi and my computer. I will probably be checking my email. Believe it or not, these trips usually dump their travellers at Internet shops and cafes just so they can stay in touch. Wish me a safari salama (good trip).
