Windhoek, Namibia, 10.08.2010

To quote a famous American philosopher: “This Is It.” After 17,000 kilometres on the bike I have arrived where I started nearly twelve weeks ago. The bike is already at the customs, and the gear is packed up.

As always at the end of trips such as this the situation is tricky…on the one hand it would be very cool if it could continue, but one the other I am looking forward to lots of things as well…an espresso macchiato from Emma, talking politics with Paul, marching out from the news shop with 13 newspapers and magazines, stumbling into Circus guests with an interesting story and getting lost in sharing thoughts, standing on my balcony for the goodnight cigarette, listening to the sounds of the city…

It has been a fantastic trip, full of pictures that I will not forget and with people that I am happy to have met and from whom I learned a lot…actually, this is the main justification to travel at all. I have learned a lot: about the close relationship between the fight against poverty and political/cultural autonomy; about the dark sides of Europe – of which I have a more critical and distanced view after this trip; about the spectacular beauty of Africa; about the fact that racism has an institutionalised side that can be overcome in revolutions, but also a more psychological side that is more persistent; about the conflict between tribal loyalties, a guarantee of survival in time of oppression and also western-style democracy, where it is called nepotism and corruption; and about a sense of humanism between strangers that seems to mainly lost through over-commercialisation, even in the human relations of my home continent.

What a touching and rich part of the world this is.

There had been plenty of worries before this trip, perhaps more from the people around me than myself. And now? Technical issues: despite the distance, temperatures ranging from -4 to +38, lots of gravel, a few hundred kilometres of sand, all I lost was one headlight and my clutch…well done BMW. Dangerous situations in the past three months? None. Attacks against me or my property? Zero. Health issues? Nada.

Instead, curiosity, openness, helpfulness…wherever I went. I wonder when finally Europe will realise that Africa is more than just wildlife and starvation in the Sahel but is actually a story worth listening to and a wisdom to be learned from.

The best moment? Too many. Victoria Falls, the Namib, having my mates here to share the ride… But if I had to pick one it would be the sight of 25,000 English football fans switching mood from “children’s birthday party” to “funeral” in less than two hours. It was extremely funny, and will make me laugh for years to come.

The saddest memory? Poverty and inequality breeds many painful situations, but the picture of prostitutes from all over the continent, in awful physical condition, offering themselves to truck drivers at the Botswana-Zambia-Zimbabwe border will haunt me for a long time.

Thanks to Moenier, to Convey (J), to Natasha, to Bruce…you made my trip, we’ll stay in touch, and I hope I get the chance soon to host you in my city.

Thanks for reading this. I hope it did not steal too much of your time and: Travel…whenever you can!!!

Cheers, Andreas.

The Desert: The Natural, and the Intellectual One.

On my way home, taking some loops, sometimes travelling sideways, and just enjoying for the last time the serenity of deserted landscapes before heading back to busy Europe. I spent the last two days in the Namib desert, a radical and existential natural environment of golden-orange masses of sands, sometimes towering up into majestic dunes. There are no sounds. It is dry and hot.

I decided to check out the last “German” post-colonial outposts – Swakopmund and Walvis Bay – and it was unfortunately not the most pleasant experience (for the most part). It made me think a few times of a talk I had a couple of years ago with some intellectuals in Istanbul who complained heavily about the “exile bubble” of Turkish immigrants in Germany, conserving attitudes and traditions that were long gone in Turkey itself.

Here you get in touch with a concept of “Germany” that those of my generation loved to hate: a Germany of heavy, dark-brown furniture in monstrous sizes; of middle-aged women sporting granite hair-dos; of “Kaffeekrarnzchen” and “Eisbein” as the menu highlight of restaurants named “Zur alten Post”. This Germany still loves silky heavy bedspreads and kitsch poems about “Heimat” hanging on the walls.

Of course, if that was all it was, it could be funny. But it also comes with bookshops prominently displaying 600 pages of “scientific proof” that the genocide at the Herrero by German colonial forces at the beginning of the 20^th Century never took place, that 9/11 was a mosaic stone in the attempt of a small group of wealthy Jews’ aim to take over the world, and it lovingly presents in shops World War 1 and 2 memorabilia, celebrating the heroic glories of the German army…

“Why should my son date a black girl? You wouldn’t go out with a Turkish girl in Berlin, would you?”

Aaaarggghhh…Excuse me Ma’am, but may I vomit on your shoes?

There are massive complaints here about the “racism” of the black Namibian government, which favours black applicants over white ones when it comes to government jobs as part of an “affirmative action” type of programme that is aiming to achieve equal representation in a shorter time frame. It is interesting to see that the Germanic population – indeed the white population in general – after profiting for centuries under colonialism, apartheid and forced labour, and always with the excuse ready – “what could we do, it was the law?” – have finally discovered their sensitivity and moral outrage when it comes to racism and human rights.

Can I go back to the desert please?

I am on my way in Windhoek, for the final days of the journey – Andreas

Picture: The wildlife of Africa has become attached to my bike…

Some ideas for a customer service approach I will be bringing back with me to the Circus…

Jesus, I have learned more about birds species, flower types and breeding habits of mammals in the last days than I ever thought I wanted to know. There is no way travelling to Botswana and NOT turning into a hobby ornithologist or, even worse, one of those Australian outback types, that are far more comfortable talking to the engine of their 4X4 then to another human being. Urban settlements are dusty stretches of tarmac with a petrol station and a shack selling fatty chicken pieces, and everyone seems to be on the way from one remote bush camp to another. Exactly the world I was made for. Anyhow, I found a way to keep myself entertained: Look out for the rough, young, testosterone loaded Botswane motorboat owner, and ask him to do a little Okavango race…Hilariously funny. I assume after today some local species here will have serious breeding issues because of me and my racing mate, and I feel terribly sorry for that…

On my way down here I stopped over in a rotten, dodgy “guesthouse” in another one of those dustbowls called Shakane in Northern Botswana, only to find out that it was the local brothel that was taking care of truck drivers from Angola, Congo, Zimbabwe on their way down, usually to the Cape. The lovely receptionist must have been really impressed by my bike – or was it the beard? – since she handed me 12 condoms on check in (1 person, 1 night..?) Anyhow, it was a lively night, and a worthwhile sociological experience. Details? Come over for a beer at the Circus in 2 weeks…

Did I say 2 weeks? My god. There is sooo much to see. Actually, the only thing I do NOT wanna see any longer are Germans (respectively Italian, French…) in there 50´s, dressed in the latest survival gear, say Nanga Parbat base camp 2009, boarding an air conditioned luxury bus that drives them through a fenced nature reserve…Ooo, and did I mention your occasional white racist, mindset early 20th century? Yep, the bush conservatives…

Off direction Namibia tomorrow, Windhoek…or, maybe up north, direction Angola? Paul, get your ass and your 800 GS down here, and we do the Angola option.

Song of the day: You can leave your hat on, Joe Cocker, for Daniele…

Video #1: The Okavango Delta Slow…

Video #2: The Okavango Delta Fast…

Difficult to imagine that there are many more places on this planet that make it more clear what kind of immaculate beauty nature can bring up, and how miserable man can make life for his fellow neighbour, than Zimbabwe…

I had my fair share of Garden of Eden moments in the last days. The Falls themselves, beyond description and a life long memory for sure, and I also can’t get over a stretch of 2 hours a few days ago, approaching the border to Zimbabwe on my bike, and rolling through the outskirts of the Chobe National Park on a rough and narrow stretch of unmarked tarmac, filled with thousands and thousands of birds in all colours and shapes, and in an unoverseeable number on the street, often only making way when using the horn, and at times it felt as if I was riding through a curtain of colourful creatures. At one point 3 cranes with a wing span of at least 1 meter sailed away beside me and disappeared over my head. It was a very surreal, beautiful experience.

Then the country: Mugabe-Land. What a misery. An impression of decline and decay. International sanctions and absolutist dictatorial politics have brought the economic system of the country to its knees, and spread resignation amongst the people. Public infrastructure in appalling conditions, the currency collapsed, food and petrol either in serious shortage or for horrendous prices. Shameful silence when politics is mentioned.

The economical situation reminds me of Russia in the early 90s. The only accepted currency is the US Dollar, with Billion Zim Dollar notes thrown away on the streets. Food is in limited distribution through a governmental system. Shops have a minimal offer, think East Germany 1970s, and for shocking prices (1 kg rice $4, 1 liter of milk $2).

I am learning also a lesson about democracy, or better, an open society here. There are different ways to deal with poverty, depending on the political conditions. In Botswana or Mocambique there is an open political debate, and despite corruption and inefficiency there is visable progress. Locals engage themselves in communal structures, NGOs are active, the people feel they have an influence on their own fate. Communication with me as the “wealthy” foreigner is friendly, respectful, and a talk among equals. Here – and in parts in the townships in South Africa – people have developed a feeling of resignation, being a toy of political structures they can not – or in South Africa could not – influence. Marginalisation and autonomy are the key words. The atmosphere is tensed, begging is aggressive, and I am not me any longer, but my wallet.

A beautiful and at the same time sad experience to be here.

Leaving tomorrow, back to Botswana, and making my way to the Okavango Delta, and trying to cope with the fact that the way leads towards the airport in Windhoek, that will bring me back…

Videos from Zimbabwe:

BORDER REGION ZIMBABWE/ZAMBIA

VICTORIA FALLS #1:

VICTORIA FALLS #2:

…another of those birthdays of mine passes by without any human being in flesh and blood wishing you a nice one, and although I never really understood why people make such a big deal out of birthdays it made me quite sentimental yesterday. It must have been the 6th or 7th birthday like that, and the reason for these isolated affairs always have been journeys, with some of the best memories in my life. The Gobi Desert in Mongolia in the early 90´s, Jamaica, Kalighat in Calcutta, the Syrian desert 2 years ago, now southern Botswana…

I reached Gaborone today, the capital of Botswana, and like many other cities in poor or developing countries, this too is merely a functional structure, with hardly any urban planning, an infrastructural crossing point, a station, a dusty trading point in an otherwise deserted country. Even in a more distinguished way than its  neighbours Botswana is first of all a landscape, a space, in which the human being seems to be an intruder, a side aspect, and this country, with the size of France and only 1.5 million people, belongs to animals, and the desert…

The journey has moved from visiting places to being “out there” and I have started to travel. I have adopted the habits of a traveller. No significance lies any longer in arriving somewhere, I am rolling…rolling…rolling…The elderly black lady at the petrol station, that moves over to me slowly and says, in a motherly voice: “you must travel safe…”…the little ascent in front of me that opens an endless view over Savannah or a stone desert, or, most often, bushland, dry, in all shades of green and all colours the creator has ever given to sand…the 3 day workers on the back of a bakkie, as they call the Hilux here, that see the bike approaching, laugh, shout and try to make me doing a wheelie, the buffalo on the street that doesn’t move until I start to smile at it…

I am a traveller, and there is no need to arrive, and there is no need to finish. Getting into the bike gear in the early morning hours, packing up and attaching everything to the bike, moving on, rolling, unpacking after a long, quiet and beautiful day when the sun sets around 6 in a small guesthouse along the way, where no-one talks more than necessary, a shower, an early rest.

After 13.500 km now I’m getting used to being ”in space”, and there is something very liberating to that. Obviously there are different facets to what might be called ”freedom”, of course a political one, which we concentrate on in Europe, but also there is a facet of freedom that comes with space, the freedom to breathe, the freedom of being uninfluenced by people, man-made sounds or structures, and it has a sensual and spiritual connotation, which seems to be lost in my home continent in many ways.

Leaving Gaborone north today, far north, direction Zambian-Zimbabwan border, and from there crossing into Zimbabwe for the Victoria Falls…

Andreas

(Here are some films from the past week on the road)

Central Mozambique

Kruger National Park…

…for Lotte and Emil

Tofo, Mozambique, 22^nd July 2010

In these day I am making an experience, which seems to be central to any traveller in this area, and I am learning a lesson, probably all first timers in this area have made before: be patient, forget plans, be flexible, and learn to deal with developments you can not influence…

On my way north on the EN 1, supposedly the only (!) fully paved street in Mozambique, heading towards Harare in Zimbabwe I went through a pretty bad day as a bike rider. It was frustrating and exhausting. Huge road works underway, and the surface being ripped open over twice for over 40-50 km, replaced by a thick layer of sand. If anyone has ever tried to ride a pushbike at the beach, you know what I had to deal with. To make things worse, rain set in 2 days and turned the whole thing into a mud field, red and bleeding out into the surroundings.

My way of moving is better described as sliding then riding, and I have not been that covered in dirt since I was a kid playing in my Grandmas garden. Average speed down to 15-20 km an hour…With no technical infrastructure available, riding alone and having to be in Namibia the 9th of August I will now return direction Maputo and will try to choose a different approach to the north of Zimbabwe and the Victoria Falls, preferably through Kruger National Park…We will see…

Maputo must be the smoothest and least spectacular capital in the world, with a speed and an activity level that equals that of the village I was born in, and although it has all the characteristics of the African urban drama – huge slums, partly no sewage system, high unemployment, a partly collapsed public order – there is also a smoothness and a calmness, which relaxes the nerves of any first time Western traveller, in shock about what he sees. The country is dealing with the legacy of a long and bloody history of slavery and then a civil war that ended only a few years ago, and it is difficult to imagine how this relaxed vibe survived the bloodshed.

It is getting more and more absurd to be on that bike in this surroundings. It floats like a spaceship through the country, and is such a shocking and futuristic sight for the inhabitants that things come to a standstill where I pass. I always used to be happy being bike riding, since it gets you in contact with people quick and reliably, but here it separates, in a way, and illustrates the differences whilst I would like to point out the things we have in common. I am standing out in a way I do not want to stand out in at all. I might take the chance of some impassable roads in Mozambique and Zimbabwe and get off it, using the minibus or comparable means of transportation for a day or two.

Now back to the beach, where I took refuge – among the nicest I have seen yet – and if the rain pauses for a day, heading south into Kruger tomorrow…Gotta see some big animals before leaving…

Song of the day: Radiohead, Fake Plastic Trees, for Pauli…

(EDITORS NOTE: Very funny. Next you’ll be dedicating a song by some gloomy Mancunians who grew up with too much rain to influence their sixth form poetry – Paul)

Nelspruit, South Africa, 24^th July 2010

First casualties…

It was, in hindsight, a rather small incident, but it made me think about travelling alone to more ambitious places on a bike…of course there can be problems…

Fighting my way along some appalling “streets” in Mozambique and trying to avoid some massive rocks I overlooked the trunk of what used to be a tree, and it ripped my clutch lever off, one of my cases and left me with a rather rough version of a clutch. Now, being alone and being not sure if and how you will be able to manoeuvre your bike, and being 120 km away from the next, rather poor, urban settlement in a country without private motorcycles bigger than 50 cc and with not endless amounts of times, this is an issue to think about. I did…

Anyhow, found a way to basically “rub” the remaining parts of my clutch into the lower gears and crawled my way back into South Africa, looking definitely much less elegant to the local youth than before, and found a mechanic here in Nelspruit, who dangled and build something small and effective, and the journey continues.

Learned anything? Yep, definitely a bit more respect than before and it does make sense to either travel with 2 at least – Pinelchen, where were you? – or have enough time to find solutions or to be a decent mechanic yourself or to travel with something easy to fix…I did nothing of this, me smart bastard.

Anyhow, booked myself into the Kruger National from tomorrow, and then hopefully off to Botswana, after a small stop at Pretoria to get a new clutch. Unless I fall in love with the one I have.

Andreas

Off to Mozambique..

The World Cup is over, the mates are back to Germany, the bike inspected, and after a few days in the cozy comfort of good friends’ guesthouse in Jozi (if you ever make it here, stay at the Lucky Bean) it feels as if the first journey is over, and a second one, different in most aspects will start tomorrow morning, when I´ll head towards Maputo, the capital of Mocambique, which should be a comfortable and stress-free ride of around 500 km.

The last 5 weeks have been dominated – of course – by the World Cup and the visit of my friends, the itinerary dominated by match fixtures and flight plans, and there was little freedom when it came to trip planning, Blatter decided more than I did. Now it will be different, 4 weeks left, and 5-6.000 km to be covered through the southern african states to reach Windhoek in the middle of August for the flight back..

South Africa was an experience I won´t forget. Not only because I met friends that will be with me for good – A big hug, Conway, Moenier, Natasha – and not only because I had a brilliant time during the Cup itself, I also learned a lot, probably more than in most other countries I have visited. My idea of nature has changed, and my perception of what a sunrise, a horizon and infinite width is will always be dominated by what I had the privilege to experience here, in the country of plenty.

More than this I am still touched by the level of mildness and kindness by so many Sourth Africans, most often by those with the hardest living conditions, a mildness that seems to be the only chance to succeed in the tough struggle that lies ahead of the country: to give all citizens access to education, healthcare and living conditions that are not an assault on their dignity, and thus making those fences, alarm systems and patrols that stop this blessed land from being a happy place one day.

I am not sure if this struggle will be successful very fast, and the fact that the privileged winners of Apartheid and century long abuse of black labor show a very often apalling lack of understanding and arrogance does not make it easier..

Nevertheless, this could be the most beautiful place to live on earth one day, I think, and if the struggle ahead should be successful, the whole planet in it´s attempt to overcome the painful and unbearable wealth disparity should and will profit. Here, it is a fight on each others doorsteps, and the fortress we have built around our continent at home is reduced to an electrical fence around ones property..

You have to love the country and it´s people for the courageous journey into unknown waters, it has embarked upon…

A final video, from a Shebeen in Soweto

Travelling overland you get a sense of the scale of the country, and passing through the neat vinyards with large farmhouses, next door to the shanty towns which presumably provide the workers for the fields, you can see the disparity in wealth of this country even through the window of a Greyhound bus. I have had too many thoughts and impressions over the past four days to list here, but it is that wealth gap that strikes the hardest, and shapes my impression of everything else.

We arrived in Durban weary but excited about what was to come. On the way to the stadium – an incredible and beautiful structure – the streets were filled with fans from both teams, and it was clear that the local fans had made their choice as well, and had been shopping to make sure they looked the part. Slightly more had gone for Germany, which I am sure is the result of the team’s performances up to that point.

The game itself? A disappointment from the German perspective, not because of the result, but the fact that the young team could not raise themselves as they had done against Germany and Argentina. For the first time you could sense the tension was there, and Spain with all their wonderful players were simply calmer and less afraid. Of course, Andreas and Christian were a little sad in the end, but it did not take long before the disappointment was overcome and we all agreed that this German team had played a wonderful tournament and in a great style, making new friends along the way.

Now we are back in Cape Town and are about to begin our journey overland to Johannesburg by motorbike. It promises to be a fascinating trip, and I am really looking forward to seeing more of the country. The South Africa I have experienced so far, in this short time, is beautiful and vast, with some troubling aspects, as I mentioned before.

These are of course the legacies of Apartheid, and 15-odd years is a very short period in the life of a nation. To look back at South Africa then, and to see what has been achieved is a credit to Mandela, Tutu, the other leaders and of course the people themselves. But there is clearly still a lot to be done, and until the poverty that is a reality for so many here in the country is lessened, the social issues that threaten South Africa will not be resolved. Crime, violence directed against immigrants, health issues, education…the key to everything is poverty, the poverty of jobs, of housing, of educational opportunity…and how the government tackles this issue will shape the direction of the country in the years to come.

The end of the road for German fans was Durban. But the next adventure awaits. Andreas will be back on the blog soon to tell you all about it.

See you soon,

Paul