My whole trip turned out
to be a study of people. I am especially interested in aspects of different
cultures like religion and spirituality, relationships between men and women, the
raising of children, relationships with nature and cultural celebrations. I was
drawn to villages and fascinated by tribes. I found poverty confronting and
challenging and I felt personally insulted by the amount of homophobia driven
by ignorance and fear.
I spent days-on-end
questioning class difference, suffering, education, racism, corrupt politics
and the global economy especially the negative effects of international aid.
Apart from small breaks
from people whilst on safari in the Kruger National park and climbing the sand
dunes of Sossusvlei, I spent most
days engrossed by people, asking them questions, observing how they live,
intruding into their spaces. I believe that this is reflected in my writing.
But as much as I was
fascinated by the people I met, moved by their stories and swept up in their
hardships I also found myself frustrated with them, angered and upset by them,
sometimes even revolted.
There are some things I
saw in Africa that I would never be at peace with: The way women are treated,
the way animals are treated and the way the natural environment is treated.
Of course there are
exceptions, and of course each country, each tribe and each individual is
different. But generally speaking I witnessed cruelty and dismissiveness toward
the suffering of all three that I believe is inexcusable.
This trip tested my
patience and my tolerance and I failed both tests.
There is however some
things that I saw in Africa that I hope will stay with me forever: The richness
of culture and language shared and celebrated through music, dance,
spirituality and story. A tendency for Africans to meet, eat and socialise
outdoors. A resilience and strength in people that still smile and laugh and
love when they are acutely aware of how little they have and how hard they work
for the small amount that they do have. I found peace in the notion that most of the Africans I met live
in the moment and the day. They wait patiently for things, they take their time
talking, asking questions, watching and contemplating life. In poorer areas and
villages they focus on the meals of that day, the work that needs to be done
that day. They always make time to talk to people, to laugh with family, to see
what is going on around them.
When Art had said to me “I
never see black but I always feel white” it wasn’t just about colour and race,
it was about being acutely self-aware and aware of the differences between my
own world and theirs.
I always felt removed,
caught between my life at home; the world as I knew it and between my adventure
in Africa, and the insights it shared with me. I was constantly challenged and confronted
by the simple, yet still highly intricate existence of people who were at once
the same as me and yet totally different.
Mostly I hope that the
kindness of the many Africans I met stays with me forever:
From Sammy and Elaine in
the poor village in Ghana; Hojo Achianse, who brought me gifts, cooked my food
and gave me the name Abra-Kuma. To Assane in Benin who made me tea gave me
jewellery and brought me to the Voodoo doctor. To Daniel in Namibia who took us
to the north and housed us in his safari park, to the Megameno family who gave
me a bed for a night and shared their daughter’s birthday cake. To Chuck and
Rudy and their friends in J’Burg who welcomed me as a friend and made one of
the most dangerous cities in the world feel like home. To Mattiyus and Daniel
who took me dancing and Didli and the other Hamer people who let us take part
in their ceremony and everyone in between who kept me safe, alive, shared their
culture with me, welcomed me into their homes and opened up to me.
And of course David and Chris
and even Michael and Alex; fellow travellers who I shared in the excitement and
the adventure with me.
…………….
On the flight back I made
a serendipitous connection. I left to fly out to Africa on a Tuesday in early
February. In Ghana I was named Abra-Kuma because I was born on a Tuesday and
now I was about to land down in Sydney on a Tuesday morning in June. I thought
how Abra-Kuma means ‘little Tuesday’ and I thought that there is nothing little
about Tuesdays for me!
When the flight attendant
told us to prepare for landing I was so nervous that my palms were sweating and
my stomach was twisting in knots. I hadn’t slept a wink on that flight.
I put it down to two
things. The first, I was excited to see my girlfriend. It had only been four
months, but I felt like I was walking into a first date.
The second thing I was
nervous about was losing Africa. I was scared that the hustle and bustle of
Sydney, my friends, family, work, all of that would wipe away everything I had
been through. I wanted to hold onto it. Africa had drained and exhausted me and
I hadn’t had time to process it yet. But I still cherished it. I was proud of
what I had achieved and the experiences I had thrown myself into. And I had
gotten used to the sense of freedom an itinerary-less holiday had. I didn’t
want time and distance to take any of that away from me. It was hard to say
goodbye.
I was the last person to
get off the plane and instead of walking out to the arrivals lounge I hid in
the toilets trying to collect my emotions and prepare to move on.
I washed my face and
brushed my teeth and reapplied my deodorant. I was trying to cleanse myself
trying to tell myself that I was ready to be back home.
When I saw my girlfriend
waiting for me my heart jumped into my throat. We gave each other a short hug
and I could see that she was as nervous as I was.
I watched the busy streets
fly by and the familiar landscapes of cafes I frequent and signs I have always
read and I asked her if we could go and get a real cup of espresso coffee with
soy milk from a place that is famous for their coffee art – if I was going to
be back in Sydney I may as well really be back in Sydney.
We didn’t say much to each
other on the way to the coffee shop, or the way home, but I reached out and grabbed
her hand and it calmed almost all of my nerves.