It Began In Africa

Days 84-134: Nairobi, Kenya to Cape Town, South Africa via Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana and Namibia

Although we arrived in Africa with a wealth of myths, half-truths, and high-school-era lessons (you know the usual: the origin place of humans; the slave trade; funky drum music; man-eating lions; corrupt dictators; civil war, disease and famine), the continent was still pretty much a mystery to us. The once-a-month CNN blip (er, "coverage") on the most recent African tragedy was about all we were getting in the U.S. Which is not to say that, after 70 days here, we have figured the place out. Far from it. I doubt 70 years would be long enough. But our time so far has been an incredible awakening to a magical land. Africa has enthralled us, touched us, frustrated us, saddened us, and, most importantly, intrigued us. . . it is like no where else we have ever been - how could we have ignored it for so long? Complex, vibrant, timeless, challenging, savage, warm. As you can imagine, we are still processing it . . .

We landed in Nairobi in the dark hours of 4:00 a.m to a reassuring taxi cab driver with a big smile. We had heard and read the rumors: "Nairobbery." Supposedly, this was a place to watch your back, front and sides. Our hostel was fenced off with electric fencing (ouch); going out after dark was considered mad; and our white skin equalled easy money to the urban poor of Kenya. Or, at least, this is what we were told.

And so it began. The confusion of Africa. As we learned, this is a place where myth and fact go hand in hand; each reinforcing the other. In fact, we enjoyed Nairobi, as a bustling, incredibly clean city of tall, lean Kenyans, glowing with energy and optimism. We saw the new Bond flick, ate popcorn, and exited the theatre in a minor shock that we were not back at Berkeley. But the myth of savagery lived on as proven fact as well, when we met other travelers with stories of robbery and muggings - a traveler from Seattle (Chase) whose throat was slashed with a sharp rock; young Mozambique teenagers jumping out of the shadows of gritty Vilanculos. They took about $40, and almost killed him.

But this ethical exploration soon took a backseat to - start your engines folks - THE ROAD. For our African experience was about to pick up pace. We jumped aboard THE TRUCK- a 22-person off-roading, self-sustainable cruise ship of sorts, which was to be our home for the next 50 days and eight countries. WHOA!! A definite change of pace from independent-style travel throughout Southeast Asia. It was our first organized "tour," and we were a little skeptical but also excited and optimistic.

We met our fellow truckmates - Kiwis, Aussies, Brits, and for the firt leg at least, Natsumi, our Japanese representative. As the only Americans (now commonly referred to as "Team America", followed up by, for those who have seen the movie, "F@!# YEAH!"), we quickly adjusted to the new terminology ("jumper" = sweater?), and talk of cricket (little did we know that, by the end of it all, we would be playing cricket and actually attending a pro match - very fun, but still, I think it's a silly game). But, especially once we joined ship with Romy - our Florentine leader and mother-figure (Mama Mia!) - and Robert - our Kenyan driver (Good Good!) - the truck became home and family. Quickly, a regular camping and driving routine took over: break down the tents to the glow of a rising African sun; instant coffee and wood-charred toast with PB in the morning (and, on occasion, the ole tin of spaghetti, which we never quite got used to: spaghetti in the morning? What! Crazy Brits again . . .); ticking away the kilometers and borders on the road, with the poverty and beauty of Africa whizzing by; chewing over books, yatzee and chess in the truck; cooking dinner for 22 people over an open flame (but we managed to bang out stuffed peppers, pork with steak and cheese baked in phylo pastry, and even lasagna, thanks to Romy!) and, most importantly, becoming part of a group and group dynamic, with all the positives and negatives a group creates. Yes, it was a comfortable change of pace after the trials and joys of southern Asia: we were drinking more beer, playing more games, cracking more jokes, and, as the pictures attest, dancing our asses off. Sure, it was with "tourists," not Africans, but it was fun to have some other traveling companions. And yes, trapped on a truck for 50 days, there were times when we wanted to hit someone's eject button - you know, "vote them off the island" and such - but, in the end, we were able to share our time in Africa with a great, albeit strange-talking, group of individuals: Jen, Vic, Tom, Rae, Bex, Iain, Paula, Yok, Alex, Phil, Natalie, the Bonnies (Black and Blonde), Rachel, Sarah, Paul, Ed, Nicolle, Blaire, plus Kate and Natsumi (for 10 days), Alex #2 for a few days, and, our indispensible, fearless, lovely leader and driver: Romy and Robert. One big family: mostly happy, sometimes not, but always family. Sure, it was isolating at times, where the ins and outs of independent travel were eliminated, removing some contact with the locals. But this was made up for by the fact that we were able to safely, cheaply and efficiently see so so MUCH!

Seriously. We are still flabergasted by all of the awe-inspiring places we covered: the Maasai villages of Kenya; the Serengetti plains and its annual migration of ONE MILLION wildebeeste; Ngorogoro Crater (the world's largest crater, and home to an incredible variety of large mammals); Zanzibar Island (incredible beaches, and over 2000 years of history as a trade port and slave market . . . simply amazing!); sunsets, villages, beach olympics and rhastafarian brothers on Lake Malawi; a houseboat Christmas on Lake Kariba (and fishing with crocodiles and hippos); giant boulders and walking with white rhinos in Matopos National Park, Zimbabwe; spectacular Victoria Falls (indeed, lives up to its reputation; just stunning and wild, particularly when you bungy-jump 111 meters into its gorge! SCARY!!! but rad!!: check the photos, Althea in orange, Jacob in yellow); traveling by human-poled mokoros (dug-out canoe) through the grassy waters of the Okavango Delta, Botswana (think "Venice meets the Everglades", and then add some chomping HIPPOS!); the sand dunes of Namibia; the list goes on and on.

It is simply too much to recount day by day, so we will share some highlights. It is pretty tough to pick out "the best of" because the whole trip would make the cut, but we tried hard to pick out some of our "bests" (and "worsts"), so here it goes:

Best animal bonding: Fondling a "quasi-wild" lion provided some serious emotional bonding; you know, one of those fiery relationships where stress breeds even more intense love. As a disclaimer, yes, this was a "wild" lion, in the sense that he hunts wild antelope in the savannah (chasing down big old wildebeestes, zebras, springboks and the like). And yes, to confirm your city-slicker inclinations, lions kill people. They are, after all, "the king of the African savannah" (although, on multiple occasions, we saw "the king" bolt like a little pussy cat upon the arrival of a marching herd of elephants. The elephant IS the definitive king). But, the big fella we are petting here has been bred in captivity, soon to be released into the wild, in an effort to keep the African lion species going. Their numbers are dwindling, thanks to Western hunting safari tourists who will pay $20,000 to track, see and then kill this magnificent animal so that he can have a stuffed, dead lion's head over the mantle. So, conservation breeding and training efforts have been in swing for over a decade. Thus, we had the privilege to visit one of these conservation programs, and stroke the mane of a "soon to be fully wild" African lion. We certainly were not as calm as we look in the photo, as this "bonding" session was quite imbalanced. The lion could have ripped one of our arms off without much effort. Plus, these guys have been known to snap at little tourists like us from time to time, drawing blood. But that's what bonding is all about! The potential sting breeds deeper love. He could have ripped Al's lovely head off, yet chose not to. Bonding to the extreme.

Funniest animal to watch: It would have to be either the warthog or the springbok. The warthog is definitely the redneck of the African animals, and we wouldn't have been surprised to see one rock up to a watering hole in jorts (jean shorts) and a mullet. The springbok is also pretty entertaining to watch as it starts and jumps like it is having some sort of fit for no apparent reason. Think teeny, tiny deer on a pogo stick.

Most spectacular scenery: IMPOSSIBLE! Africa is just too beautiful for such a short list. Okay, we'll try, but we get to vote a "top 2" . . . Number One: the sand dunes of Soussevlei, Namibia . . . an absolute dreamland of perfect orange arcs and parabolas set crisp against a bright azure sky. Magical, peaceful, and, yes, very sandy . . . where your sense of scale is absolutely warped . . . is that ridge one km away? 5km away? Made all the more surreal when you think about the San bushmen, whose cave paintings we saw. They are some of the last remaining nomadic hunter-gatherers on the planet. They keep their direction in the desert by knowing the revailing wind directions and "reading" the parabolic lines of the sand dunes like a compass arrow. They have my profound respect. I just looked for the big yellow truck in the distance . . . . Number Two: the Serengetti plains-Ngorogoro Crater transition, where the mighty Massai still live. Picture a massive plain of grasses and acacia trees, dotted with roaming lions, leopards, giraffes, filled in with various antelopes herds, zebras and wildebeestes. These plains rise up into a green, volcanic landscape into the Ngorogoro massif, the largest crater in the world. Next, giving the view a real sense of scale, off in the distance, and seen through the open roof of our safari Land Rover, we catch a bright red dot in the far distance . . . a Massai herder/warrior. Against the green and blue backdrop of the land and sky, the bright red clothing and dark skin of the Massai warrior herding his goats was nothing short of breathtaking. These men have many wives, living in a circular village of small thatched hut and surrounded by a gnarled-fence. The Massai will walk 50 or 60 kilometres a day for weeks on end, through absolute uncivilized raw nature where the lion and elephant dominate. They wear red and purple because they believe it scares off the big predators. They walk to make their cattle fatter so they can acquire more wealth and then buy more wives. And yet, making it all the more surreal, many have cell phones, with ample "cow wealth" to upgrade to a plan that allows text messaging. WHAT?!?! Once again, this is Africa.

Best way to pass the time on the truck: Truck air guitar. Once the Yok-man, our resident Kiwi party animal, owner of the most durable liver we have ever seen, and unofficial DJ of the truck (more on him later) . . . once he cranks on some monsters of rock tunes, air guitar and karaoke gets in full effect. Although Guns and Roses proved too much for Jacob. The first riff in Sweet Child of Mine led to a massive headBANG (literally) into the truck ceiling. Painful. Funny. Very funny.

Best lush: Yup. You guessed it. Yok. That's him pictured with all the ladies in a Zimbabwean cowboy hat. He was simply unstoppable, achieving high levels of drunkenness and happiness everyday on the truck, day in, day out. 50 days straight. And always, no matter how heavy the drinks fell, the next morning he was up bright and early - NO HANGOVER! - chipper and smiling, usually with a full English breakfast in front of him. Small man. Big liver. We are convinced that he is the next generation of homo sapiens. Evolution towards a hangover-free species. Yok was an inspiration.

Friendliest people: Because we didn't have the opportunity to interact with locals to a great extent on this trip, it is difficult to say. This is perhaps the toughest part about traveling in Africa. Plus, we found it generally difficult to connect with the culture as an independent traveler (made more difficult by the massive yellow truck we were in). History, slavery, war, racism . . . all of these legacies felt very real and alive to us in our (limited) interactions. Thus, even despite the truck and the distance it created, we perceived a significant divide between tourist and local, much more so than in other places we have visited. Africa has a certain rawness to it; people are, for the most part, just trying to survive. Tourists, with our seemingly infinite wealth, are something to take advantage of. We are an opportunity. Plain and simple. This is not to sound jaded. Far from it. We connected with some wonderful Africans. The warmth and vibrance that is so much a part of this place. And so well represented by the Malawians we connected with. The four brothers. They shared their reggae, art and good vibes with us, on the banks of beautiful Lake Malawi. And we loved them for it. But still, we would have liked more connections like this one. Perhaps when we return . . .

Scariest camping experience: After holding the first ever Lake Malawi Olympics (including the long jump, shot put, and the "holy bottle," an excellent relay race involving a big jug, a water bottle with holes in it, and a water source (here, Lake Malawi)), we settled into our tents for a long slumber. However, we all awoke to howling winds and driving rain some hours later. As Jacob and I are holding up our tent against the raging winds, nature REALLY calls, and Jacob informs me that he can't hold it any longer. Not two seconds after he steps outside the tent, a huge gust of wind knocks our tent and ME over. Jacob turns back around to see the legs of the tent up in the air in the wind and rain, and, not to mention, LIGHTNING! Of course, our tent poles are METAL, so while trying to set our tent upright, we have to grab onto the metal poles during a lightning storm. Safety first, was it?

Worst meal cooked while camping: Definitely the morning can of spaghetti. Apparently this is a common breakfast in the Commonwealth, but we could not get used to having spaghettios before 8 a.m. (We'd even prefer Wheetabix over spaghettios!). Brits are crazy.

Best extreme sport: We got pretty extreme on this trip (part of the Africa tourist experience, I guess), so we will have to list a couple on this one. Bungy jumping 111 meters into the gorge at Victoria Falls is number one. Terrifying. And can you believe that Al did it?! A classic moment was memorialized in her video. As the guides are attaching the bungy to her feet . . . she looks just plain old sad with fear, just sad. And then, she asks them "if they have done this before?", "have you checked my weight?" and "is the rope the right length?" Poor thing. So terrified. And yet, she leaped. I still cannot believe it. Other adrenaline rushes included flying over the Okavango Delta in a 6-seater plane, with the pilot attempting stomach-churning acrobatic feats. But the extreme sport you would most likely catch us doing again was four-wheeling in the sand dunes in Namibia. Imagine racing 30 meters up a 45-degree sand slope, approaching the crest, then turning your wheels to absolutely CRUSH a massive downslope drop - YEEE-HAAAAW! - quad-biking RULES! We are now official African rednecks.

Best campsite: Etosha National Park. Although the campsite itself wasn't anything to write home about (well, it did have three pools and a tower that allowed you to see for miles), camping in Etosha is incredible because campsites are set up near watering holes where animals are definitely going to make an appearance. Floodlights shining down on the watering hole allow you to watch the animals drink at night--an incredible experience and totally different than viewing them during the day. Add a little merlot, and voila!: a LIVE Animal Planet show.

Best holiday: We celebrated Christmas in style on a houseboat on Lake Kariba, Zimbabwe. Our little cabins looked out onto the lake, and the top deck had a bar, a hot tub, plenty of room to relax in the sun or, as it turned out, hold a raging dance party. Also, the boat had a cage off the back that we learned was for swimming--to protect us from the crocs and hippos. Sweet.

Best national anthem: In the Okavango Delta, we sat around the campfire with the locals who had poled us to our island camp for the night. After the Botswanans sang some of their traditional songs, they asked us to sing our national anthems. Um, the Star Spangled Banner is NOT a pretty song to sing, particularly if you are singing it as a duet with one person singing in baritone and the other is slightly tone deaf.

Best holiday on the truck: Definitely Christmas. Romy decorated the boat for Christmas (complete with a tree) and prepared a 5-course feast that included tiramisu for dessert! While Robert, er, Santa Claus, handed out presents to each of us (Jacob got an "American football," as it is known throughout the world, and I got a book of Sudoku puzzles. Apparently we were pretty nice this year.). On Christmas Eve we donned our Christmas suits: lovely little treasures hand-picked by Romy and Robert from clothing markets in Africa. Jacob, therefore, spent the evening dancing around in a tuquoise and purple speedo (a.k.a. weeny bikini, banana hammock) and a red and white teddy. I got off fairly easy with a hot pink leotard and brown "poo pants." (As a side note: Jacob has worn his purple and turquoise speedo on numerous occasions since Christmas Eve, and I have a feeling that it will make it back to the U.S. of A. with us). After having a huge dance party (see pics), we all ended up jumping naked into the cage. Let it be known that the "Naked Cage" was instigated by none other than Jacob (surprise, surprise), but nobody seemed to think twice about stripping down to his or her birthday suit and plunge into the cage. Thus, X-mas in Africa amounted to diving naked into a cage of naked people over and over and over again. Naughty or nice, folks? You guessed it . . . . Naughty.

We ended our Absolute Africa safari in Cape Town, once again dancing our tushes off--this time at a local bar with a one-man band singing American tunes after feasting on African game and drinking lots of wine with the truck crew. It was a wild finish to a wild tour. Whatever independence or cultural explorations we gave up, we gained a great group experience and had a hell of good time. Now, we are back on our own, cruising through South Africa, thinking about the folks we said goodbye to and the good times we shared on that big, yellow truck. See you all again next time . . . in the NAKED CAGE!