Grim, rusting reminders.

Back from the Past: Some Reflections

I met a Cuban who fought at Cuito Cuanavale when I was in the attacking army.  We spoke no common language but connected in a way only old soldiers can.  We held each other like long lost brothers.  Another scar felt healed.  I met ex-PLAN soldiers and felt humbled by the adversity they had faced and the courage it took for them to take to the bush to fight for what they believed in.  They reached out to me, who once wore the uniform of their hated enemy, with a magnanimity that shone light into a previously dark place in my soul.  I conversed, often without a common language, with farmers and teachers, engineers and herd-boys, and was reminded of how warm and hospitable people can be to strangers and how sharing is most meaningful when it is simply an honest sharing of oneself.

I travelled nearly 1500 kilometres on my bicycle and exchanged a greeting with nearly everyone walking next to that long road.  Bon dia, boa tarde.  They would smile or stare or laugh at the unusual sight of a man on a loaded bicycle, so many interactions and connections that would not have been possible had I roared through Angola and part of Namibia with the aid of a motor.  My bicycle, a conversation piece. 

  Cuito Cuanavale, an almost mythical place in my war, a place on a map, never seen as I sat not so far away in a foxhole in the Angolan sand.  The place I’d chosen to begin my bike journey.  I felt surprisingly strong emotions in the few days I spent there. From Cuito Cuanavale to Menongue, the so-called “Road of Death”, strewn with the wreckage of war: tanks, APC’s, logistics vehicles, hit by air attacks, or rockets or UNITA ambushes.   It was a depressing reminder of the utter waste caused by 30 years of war.

My slow progress from those battlefields was mirrored by my slow internal processing and meaning-making; my responses to returning to Angola.  Evidence of war decreased with every kilometre beyond Menongue and my thoughts turned slowly from the past and its grim rusting reminders, to the beauty of the bush and the openness of the people I met.  I became absorbed in my immediate task of journeying, feeding myself, finding a place to sleep and with every meeting along the way.  The war receded both in its manifestation in the landscape, and in my mind.  The further I travelled from Cuito, the less I thought about war.

Now I’m home again.  My journey continues by other means.  But whereas once I felt the constant pull to return to Angola, to put some ghosts to rest, now I need never return there again.  And if I do, it will be for other reasons. 

The word Angola will no longer only mean war to me, but a deeper, richer, more positive tapestry.

And He's Off!

There’s something about an old battered Land Rover that epitomises adventure more than any other vehicle.  When I lent on the bonnet to sign the visa form, I could smell the dust, the diesel and the sharpness of old rubber from the worn tyres.  I had a good feeling that the expedition would finally happen.  And it is.

Now the visa is approved, my spare room is full of kit and the butterflies play merrily in my guts.  I do the usual balancing act of the independent traveller:  planning for the worst while not freaking myself out at horror scenarios.  I’ve been here before and I know the process.  What keeps me focussed is knowing that once the rubber starts rolling along the dusty roads of Angola my anxiety will melt into the excitement of taking every moment as it comes.  Difficult situations are usually easier to deal with in reality than they are in fantasy.  I’ve been smacked around the ear during an attempted mugging in Windhoek, been conned  out of cash in Haifa and had my pack, passport, money and airticket stolen on a Greek beach.  It was shit.  But I’m still here and in one piece.

What I love most about independent travel is this excitement and unpredictability.  I feel alive.

This is likely to be my last post for a while.  I don’t expect to be able to access the internet while I’m in Angola and I’m certainly not lugging a laptop with me.  If I find an internet café in one of the bigger towns and I have some time, I’ll try to post a quick update.   I may manage the occasional tweet so follow me on @Afriwheels.

Thanks  to all of you who have offered support and advice over the past year or more. 

‘Bye for now!  See you in a month!

Invitation to visit Angola

If you've been following my blog you'll know that this expedition I'm embarking on is a solo journey.  However, I'm being taken to Cuito Cuanavale by 4x4 along with some other ex-combatants who were involved on various sides of the apartheid wars.  I will part with my 4x4 friends and start my cycle journey at Cuito Cuanavale but the vehicles will continue on.  They will visit some of the other places where the SADF clashed with SWAPO/PLAN, FAPLA, and the Cuban army.

There are still some places available in the vehicles.  If you or someone you know is interested in joining this expedition please get in touch with me by leaving your contact details and I'll tell you about the group and the vehicle expedition.  The vehicles will leave from Johannesburg and are likely to be away for two weeks.

This is not a commercial trip and members will be expected to share the expenses of fuel and food etc.  The expected departure date is early June.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Going Nowhere Slowly: Frustration, Disappointment and Hope

Someone once said something like “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”.  I have to disagree.  Most journeys begin with an idea which progresses into planning and preparation.  It’s how my journey started and continues.  It continues to provide excitement and frustrations in equal measure.  And I’ve yet to leave home.  I don’t go to the gym or ride my bike without focussing on the Angola ride.  My life revolves around it. 

Now another frustration, a postponement, stands in my way like a swollen river.  At the last minute some members of the group who were to drive with us to Cuito Cuanavale, the start of my bike ride, dropped out, leaving just two of us to cover the costs of running the Landy there and back.  This has forced us to postpone the trip until June or July.

There is a ray of hope.  An international news organisation is keen to film part of my journey and will pay towards fuel costs.   Once this is confirmed we can set a date for the physical “first step” of our journey.

So I continue my mind-journey with its obstacles and frustrations, sometimes high with excitement, other times low and tired.  Much like a physical journey, one moment I’m freewheeling down hill, the next I’m working out how to cross a swollen river.  Or wait, maybe there’s another way round…

Newsflash!

 Departure Date

I've just heard that expedition to Cuito Cuanavale is likely to be leaving in the first week in April.  It had been pushed back from the 14th  of March to the second week in April.  Suddenly I've got much to do in final preparations.  Like going to the travel clinic to get those shots.  I've been putting it off but the needle phobia will have to be overcome!

Book Contract

If you haven't already heard by other means or sources, I have signed a book contract with Random/Struik to write a book about the Journey and related issues.  I'm excited and daunted

I will write more about the final planning and arrangements before I head off into the bush.

Fresh and ready for the Road!