Transportation

Yellow Chicken Camp

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May 20, 2002
Then to Yellow Chicken Campsite and dinner in the dark. The charming camp, in the middle of a huge 40 year-old German farm, is run by a Brit and his wife who was 8 months pregnant. There is a law now that Whites cannot own land but this farmer’s land was grandfathered in because he had owned it for so long.

Soap and towel even…and so clean…and smells so good with candles burning everywhere…and hot water even…this is the nicest camp yet! The girls all have a shower the night we arrive so I decide to wait until morning. On my way I see how two black African guys have to bucket the water up out of the well…then into a barrel a few feet away…then pull it bucket by bucket up into an elevated water reservoir. Then a fire is built in an outside fire burner to heat the water. I stubbornly return to my tent without a shower.

Lessons from an African Bush Camp Operator
Janine and Sarah stayed up and listened to the camp operator who has lived in several countries in Africa over a period of 15 years talk about things he has seen and experienced. He said most people are Christian but most only convert because they are given a bag of maize or a pair of shoes and still continue their own spiritual traditions including witchcraft.

He also said that if a woman gets pregnant outside of wedlock that she has to marry the father of the child. So sometimes if a man sees a woman he wants he rapes her until she is pregnant and then she has to marry him. I don’t know which countries he was talking about here. About AIDS, the locals don�t understand the disease and don’t believe that condoms are of any use-hence the proliferation of the disease.

The operator was particularly adamant about stopping the food and other aid that people get…he believes it keeps them from becoming self sufficient…teaches them to always have a hand out…that it would be terrible in the beginning to withdraw the aid but in the long run it would be better for the people.

In fact an article appeared in the South African Cape Times a few weeks after this in which it was reported that dozens of nongovernmental organizations rejected the final declaration of the United Nations World Food Summit in Rome saying it was “more of the same failed medicine” and would not end hunger.

Distribution of resources is almost impossible due to bad roads, insufficient trucks and buses, a poor public transportation system.This results in 90% of the villages and towns living in isolation having no access to the market and no access to money. One hundred and fifty poorly developed countries are leaning on 25 developed ones. If one figures in the cost of transporting, servicing, warehousing and preserving food, then the cost of a single meal for a refugee in some camp is higher than the price of a dinner in the most expensive restaurant in Paris, one critic has said.

The answer, many are thinking, is a multidimensional approach to the develop-ment of healthy societies: develop regions especially through education; encourage local societies participation in public life including ability to dialogue; observe fundamental human rights; begin democratization and develop interdependence. This will not be easy. It will require new politicians who care about development-not warlords who sew contention in order to retain their own political power long enough so they can drain the country of money and resources.

The camp operator said that he feels sorry for African-Americans who come to Africa looking for their roots…they leave devastated when they discover they have absolutely nothing in common except color…and being black means nothing here because practically everyone is black…so no one is going to greet the black Americans with open arms-particularly well-fed affluent ones and the Africans assume the blacks who come here must be rich or they couldn’t get here in the first place…and we travelers without a doubt are all immeasurably rich compared to the locals.

In the morning as we were leaving I asked the camp operator what the best thing was about living in Africa…the beauty and wide open free space, he said waving his arm out toward the sun rising over ripe wheat..and being able to live the way you want to with no 9-5 job!

Zambia Border

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2002
Rod warns us the roads in Zambia are even worse “shit” than in Malawi-which we found hard to believe but he was right. Most of these roads we are on are not paved. They repair the potholes by digging them out and throwing them by the side of the road, Rod says wryly.

Reached the Zambian border just before 6pm. Aussies and U.S. pay $25 for a visa to enter the country; Kiwis and Canadians got away with nothing…Brits threw a royal fit when they found out they had to pay $60! Rod said it had something to do with the fact that Britain pulled millions of dollars out of the country when they gave Zambia it’s independence….
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History
In the 18th Century the Portuguese followed the Swahili-Arab slavers into the interior of the country. In 1890 the country became a protectorate of the British South African Company and was named North Rhodesia (the name coming from Cecil Rhodes). Malawi on the southern border was called South Rhodesia. North Rhodesia came under British control in 1924 but won its independence in 1963 when it became Zambia.

I imagine that most of the people in these countries, especially in the rural areas, never even knew they were being colonized! The British taxed Zambia to the bone but spent most of the money on South Rhodesia, a drain that plagued the country until well into the 1990�s. After independence President Kaunda combined Marxism and traditional African values to rule the country for 27 years.

But bloated civil service, mismanagement and corruption bankrupted the country and Kaunda was forced to give up the presidency to a man by the name of Chiluba. There was a failed coup attempt in 1997 and finally one of Chiluba�s men was elected in flawed elections in 2001 but at least it was the end of the rubber stamp one-party system. Nine African states were invited to the inaugural ceremony but none attended in protest of the elections. (I’m getting all this from the Lonely Planet book) 80% of Zambia’s 9 million people live below the UN poverty line of $1.00 a day.

Time, Walking, Women

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Time, Walking, Women, Waiting, Matatus and Plastic
In Africa these things work together in a synchronous whole says Ryszard Kapuściński in “Shadow Of The Sun.” Rattle-trap matatus-minibuses that serve as public transportation-all seats and the space in between and the space full from floor to ceiling whiz by. What time does the bus leave for it’s destination? The answer is when it fills up. Time for on most of this continent only has meaning in relation to events. If you ask when does the bus leave it makes no sense. The bus will leave when it is full so one must wait…quietly with unseeing eyes…when people are waiting…for this is what they must do before something can happen…they do not react to anything around.

But people are happy to wait for the bus because for eons before this Africa walked-indeed they still walk in the rural areas which is most of African countries and they carry whatever has to be transported on their shoulders or heads. Entire cities and everything in them were carried into the interiors on the heads of the people in the 18th century when there were no roads-only paths.

On this ancient system of paths people walked silently and single file and they still do today even if they are traveling on one of today�s wide roads. And it is the women who do the transporting…they may have to walk several miles every day in one direction for wood and often in another direction for water.

Modern technology has made their lives easier because instead of heavy earthen urns for water they now have red, green and blue plastic buckets. A woman will squat down and place the bucket on her head. Then straightening up she will carefully balance herself. Stepping with an elegant, smooth even gait she walks silently and resolutely down a forest path leading to…a place we will never see. When we pass in the truck she may turn her body slightly and wave. I am immensely impressed. They learn early how to do this…we see a girl about 7 years old walking down a path with a huge heavy bucket of water held up on her head by her tiny neck. When the woman has collected the wood for a fire and the water then she can begin cooking the one meal of the day…

The women carry water, chop wood and work the fields; the armies of men for the most part are unemployed. But they could help the women carry water and wood and work in the fields, we say to each other! But this is Africa and it won’t happen!

The younger men trek from the rural areas to the city in search of work but they find neither jobs nor a roof. They should do something…But what? What should they do with their unutilized energy? With their hidden potential? What is their place in the world? They squat idly on all the larger streets and squares of cities we have been in. In less stable countries, with the promise of shoes or a meal they are recruited by local chieftains when they need to recruit armies, organize coups or foment a civil war.

Stone Town Zanzibar

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May 11-15 2002 City of Stone Town Island of Zanzibar
The tropical island of Zanzibar has a more cosmopolitan and warm and open ambiance than other African countries we have been in-more like the islands off Thailand. Zanzibar is an island partner in the United Republic of Tanzania. It is made up of Pemba and the Unguja Islands, also known as the Spice Islands, along with about 50 small islands. The official languages are Swahili and English and the population including the Island of Pemba is just under 100,000. The religions are Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Traditional Beliefs. Per Capita yearly income is U.S. $190.

Stone Town, the capital, is often the first stop for travelers. After getting off the three-hour ferry from Dar es Salaam, Bob and I chose the Baghani House Hotel, with a nice quiet room with a real air conditioner and full breakfast owned by a friendly local family. That evening we were so tired we missed a big party at the African House Bar and Restaurant commemorating the death of Bob Marley who is revered in Tanzania for his peacemaking role between Tanzania and other African countries (and other) efforts. The next day the other truck riders went on a Spice Tour and continued to the northern beaches to work on their tans and do some fishing while Bob and I stayed in exotic Stone Town to cool our heels and rest after enduring the noise and charcoal cooking smoke of Dar.

The tropical island of Zanzibar has a more cosmopolitan and warm and open ambiance than other African towns we have been in-more like the islands off Thailand. The official languages are Swahili and English and the population including the Island of Pemba is just under 100,000. Zanzibar is an island
partner in the United Republic of Tanzania. It is made up of Pemba and the Unguja Islands, also known as the Spice Islands, along with about 50 small islands. The religions are Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Traditional Beliefs. Per Capita yearly income is U.S. $190.

Stone Town retains the atmospheric trappings of urban life in Muslim cities but hews to a much looser interpretation of Islam than many places in the Middle East. So while calls to prayer regularly resound through the streets, bars and restaurants serve alcohol with little restraint. Leaving the hotel we instantly found ourselves swept into the decaying opulence of the city. From the narrow passageways we ducked into the inner courtyards of old manors, pastel paint peeling from the walls.

What lends Stone Town its charm are the remnants of empire, all piled atop one another and inflected by the native Swahili culture. The Persians were among the first foreigners to settle here alongside the indigenous people. The island was colonized by the Portuguese starting in 1503, and brought under the control of Oman in 1698. The sultan of Oman eventually moved the seat of his kingdom to Zanzibar, which resulted in an artistic renaissance in Stone Town, with Arabic influence becoming much more overt in the designs of manors and palaces. In the late 19th century, the British Empire annexed the island, only to have it gain independence decades later, before coming under the rule of the government of mainland Tanzania.

The shadow of the Arabian peninsula, just across the Indian Ocean, falls everywhere in Stone Town. We made our way through the twisting streets, marveling at the thick wooden double doors with their arabesque carved lintels and large brass studs. One narrow alleyway led to another, with branches veering off in all directions and plenty of dead ends. There were groups of men in white robes and skullcaps playing pool in small cafes, and cramped shops selling everything from spices to television sets to long rolls of multihued cloth. It had the same feel as Cairo – the urban design of Zanzibar is the same as the one imprinted all over the Islamic world.

Dalla-Dallas In Zanzibar

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Transportation
Outlying areas can be reached by taking little numbered pick-ups called dalla-dallas across from the Darajani Market that charge about 30 cents and like the matatus (multicolored buses) are filled literally to the brim with people as they careen crazily along narrow one lane roads. I wondered if this is where the Merry
Pranksters got the idea for Ken Kesey�s bus in the �60�s.

Ngorongora Crater

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The Ngorongora Crater is a conservation area and National Heritage Site. After breaking camp in the Sarangeti, we drive another two hours up to the Crater rim where we set up camp so we can be ready for the drive down into the Crater the next morning. The crater is 16-17 km across; the difference between a park and a conservation area is that people can live in a park; so many Maasai life in the Sarangeti but none in the crater. The crater sides are covered in a dense rain forest; Black Rhino only here; no giraffes here because it is too steep for them to walk down; no Topi or Impala here; the alkalai lake is filled with pink Flamingos; Corey Bastards are mating; hyenas with their lowered backsides slither along…

The Land Rover dodges huge elephant poop on the roads meandering along the crater bed.

Maasai and Samali Ostriches: incubation 48 days; female watches the eggs during the day and the male at night. Biggest enemies are man and lions; Red Billed Duck; Black Winged Stilt; Black Headed Heron; White Heron; Sacred Ibis; Crowned Crane; Wida Bird; European Stock: coming from Europe with no passport and flies back in December-he is not ours, Francis says.

Common and Golden Jackal; Flamingos by the million who eat algae and salt that makes them pink; Spotted Hyenalives 35 years; noctural;4- 5 months gestation; he was walking the whole night that is why he is sleeping. No one else eats the Hyena except other Hyenas when they die. Lions may kill them but they don’t eat them. Male Lion eats first-big boss-then the mother and the cubs; 40 lions in the crater; sometimes you see no lion because they don’t know you are coming to see them and they just lie anywhere in the tall grass where you can’t see them, Francis says.

Wart Hog; monkey sitting on top of an Acacia Tree-the king of the world. A mini bus drives up. Ladies in nice clean white blouses sit in the back with their suitcases with wheels on them; probably staying at the expnsive Ngorongoro wildlife Lodge on the rim. “My god they are not even camping; not getting the full-on experience!” the kids yell out to each other laughing hysterically. By the way, at a potty stop, one of the kids spotted a tourist all dressed up like Safari Guy just stepping out of Magellan Catalogue. All the crew and kids laughed themselves silly.

Francis says that the animals in the crater are very polite because they haven’t been in the hunting block outside the crater where they learn to be scared of the human.

Black Headed Heron eating baby Black Mama snake; male elephant with biggest penus ever…swinging between his legs as he walks. Weighs 3 kg, Francis says. How does he know, Bob retorts.

We stop at Tak Tak spring for a rest and watch a school of Hippos.

When the zebras walk or run away from the car, their heads bob up and down telling the lions “I have seen you, I have seen you, I have seen you,” Francis says.

We drive around a bend to find five Forest Elephants all in a row. They are waiting for pictures, Francis says smiling. Then we drive up and out of the crater and head back to camp.

Animal Spotting The Big 5 In The Sarengeti

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I love the remnants of the Swahili cadence in Victor’s English.

Giraffe: “It is raining and he is very happy there-he is getting a shower.”

Bob watching elephants: “This makes you feel badly there are zoos.

Topi: lives up to 20 years, gestation 7 months, smell and sight are bad so they stand on termite mounds to see the lions-so no Topi in the crater because there are no termite mounds in the crater.

Bob: “My everlasting memory of Africa will be the Acacia Tree.”

Sarengeti means endless in Swahili…endless horizons, endless silence, endless pleasure for us.

Grand Gazelle: male has long horns and female has short ones; Lilac Breasted Brawler: Black Jackal-scavenger-only kills rats or grasshoppers; Impala has one mate-the male has to fight to get the female.

Best 4-wheeling ever! Hillary really missed a good time when she took the helicopter in!

The park’s vultures: White Headed Vulture; Hyena; Jackal

This is pleasure-we are finally out of the chaos of the city. Writing helps assimilate our experiences so we can move on…

Glossy Starling: Marshall Eagle; Dove; Bee Eater; Francis: I have to study and put it all in my mind. Guinnie Fowl; “Monkeys are not afraid of you they just like to be by their friends.” Velvet Monkey; Water Buck: males have horns, stay close to the water and need green grass. His enemy is the lion.

The Hippos are grazing all night and in the morning they come back and are sleeping in the day, Francis says. They are mating in the water, delivering babies in the water. They kill many people because they know man is not a good animal. They stay in the water 10 minutes without his breathing. Gestation is 8 months and life span is 40 years. Many Hippos together is called a school: Just like children-they must be together. Now is midnight for them. They roam 5 km at night and return to the pond in the morning. The Park has to arrange for keeping the ponds filled with water because otherwise we can get a problem and Hippos have to die when their skin dries out.

Then Bob says to Francis: “There are humans that eat 25kg a day, the gestation is 9 months they eat animals and leave a big mess.” Francis is delighted “very good, very good” he says. Bob and Francis are friends.

Black Smith; Embrella Acacia-big old one; Maasai Giraffe: gestation 15 months; lives 35 years. When they are walking or when they are ambling their legs are together and when they are running their legs are asymetrical. It is illegal to kill this animal, Francis says. Leopard: a loner-if you see two leopards together either they are mating or it is a mother with her cub. After the baby is born the male is takes off. They are afraid of the dew, like a housecat, so they stay in the tree. At night they are coming down and hunting for their food. When they are killing they put the food in the tree and they are there eating for three days. For hunting they have to use their cunning because they run so slow-they have to hide somewhere and wait-like the lion. Cheetah runs 110 km per hour and is fastest land animal. He cannot climb-just walks. Don’t know if we’ll see him today because of the tall grass…

Much sighing-becoming more and more relaxed…like the animals….

Many Ostriches; Francis says the best animal viewing is July-Sept when the grass is brown and everything is dry and animals are gathered around the water holes. However, Bob saw more animals this trip than he did six years ago in August.

Saw part of a pride of male lions out in a field. Francis spotted a lioness on a rock sleeping-she is waiting for the sun; completely relaxed with one foreleg wrapped down around her rock. There are only 3000 lions in the park. Lives 16-20 years; gestation 5 months. Sometimes their teeth break and they can’t eat food and they have to die. They eat 40 kg of meat-can go one week without eating; nocturanl-very active at night. Later we drive up to a vehicle and two lionesses are lying in the shade against the back wheel. Several vehicles arrive and park in a semi-circle around the lions so we can all take pictures.

We are triumphant! We have seen the “Big Five,” Buffalo, Elephant, Leopard, Lion, Rhino.

Sarangeti Spoof: a person says they have spotted an animal and everyone tries to see it. It is not funny.

We stop at a Maasai Village on the way out of the Sarangeti. “They are people-not monkeys,” I say, and refuse to get out of the car. Most everyone else goes inside the village, made of sticks and bushes, to watch the males do their jumping dance and make the Wilderbeast sound while the females try to sell their necklaces. It costs $5 to go into the village-this is not a cultural exchange or an I-Thou experience either one.

Egyptian Geese; The elephants kill and they pile branches on top and wait for three days to make sure he isn’t going anywhere; Toni Eagle; Wilderbeast: they are very stupid, Francis says, if one crosses the river they all have to cross…like sheep. If they have been in the hunting block, when you stop the car they are not sure of their life. They remember those bad people there. If they have always lived outside the hunting block you can go right up to them and they are not afraid of you.

To the Sarangeti

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A week before picking Bob and me and another 3 people up in Nairobi, the WorldWide Adventure Company had taken about 15 others across the Masi Mara into Rwanda to see the Gorillas. Their stories made us sorry we didn’t go…”we were 2 meters away from them…they were so relaxed…and peaceful. The gorillas were completely comfortable with us being there…”

Our first day out the kids were hyper as hell from being stuck in the mud for two days after seeing the gorillas. I threatened to abandon the truck as soon as we got to Dar es Salaam but earplugs got me through. The second day was better…our good natured trip leader talked the kids out of the Michael Jackson tape. Our guide, Rod is South African; the crew-Kenyans. George is a great cook and James-a good driver. The truck is a great way to see Africa because you sit up high and can see all over.The luggage and kitchen stuff is underneath the seats…accessible from outside.

As the truck was moving through the Kenyan/Tanzanian border a young kid wanted $100 American for his little hand-carved giraffes; we all laughed and he yelled up at us “I want to be the Bill Gates of Africa!” then quickly added, “I am just joking!”

Stayed the first night at Namanga Camp where Bob discovered a small pretty Maasai woman named Eunice tending the small camp store. Eunice gave me my Maasai name-Milanoi. We exchanged addresses and she promised to make me a necklace with my Maasai name and send it to my home. (I never got it of course.) She refused to take money for the necklace or the postage so I gave her a silver ring. But in the morning she didn’t give me my 20 shilling change for a Fanta I drank the night before and then the other shoe dropped. She asked me to send her clothes, shoes (size 4) earrings and nail polish and clothes for her 9 year old son. Our expectations of cultural exchanges so different…we hate feeling “used” under the pretenses of friendship. Extend that to our Aid programs world-wide. Who is used by whom?

Nairobi to Cape Town Overland

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May 5, 2002
We left for the 4000 mile seven week trip in a Mercedes Benz truck overland from Nairobi to Capetown. As Bob suspected there would be, there are 17 kids all under the age of 30 on this truck-very cheeky Aussies and Kiwis and half a dozen ball-busting Britains. Overland trucks are the cheapest way to travel Africa so the trucks are always full of kids-guess we will be content with being the token elders.

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The master of African roads is the truck driver-cars cannot manage the ruts and potholes. The truck can go almost anywhere with its powerful engine and wide tires. James understands the power under his control. We are dumbfounded by his ability to wedge the truck into the smallest path, narrowest driveway, around the sharpest corner! Drivers are extraverted and have tremendous confidence-an almost regal bearing. I read this on my blog to James and he whooped and hollered and jumped up and down…Yes! Yes! That’s me! That’s me! First instruction from Rod: it’s a TRUCK and not a bus! Every time someone calls it a bus we are supposed to buy Rod a drink-I’m the biggest offender. I just laugh.

We are all divided into four groups that rotate daily-cooks helper, dish washing, security and “dog’s-body.” Security has to stay with the truck when are parked in the towns. Dogs-bodies are the go-fers. They fill up the water jugs at the camps and set up the folding seats. They set up the folding table for food preparation and put up George’s tent. (George is the Kenyan cook.) They also periodically sweep out all the dust and mud out from under the seats and the aisle of the truck. Dish washers make up three tubs of water-one soapy, one with disinfectant and one rinse. They set up two plastic pans for hand washing-one with soap and one with disinfectant for rinse. They dry the dishes by swinging them in the air.

George makes a fire on the ground with the charcoal he has purchased along the road and sets a big grate over the top.

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The charcoals much softer than ours…coals are red and coffee-water hot in just a couple minutes. Cooks helpers peel veges and generally do whatever George wants them to do while they try and keep out of his way. George has pretty fixed and definite ideas about how he wants things to go.

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For breakfast we have had eggs all different ways, French Toast, pancakes, dry cereal made with reconstituted dried milk, toast, wieners, bacon, canned spaghetti, beans. Lunch is grated carrots, sliced tomatoes, grated cheese, green or red peppers, sliced meat and bread for sandwiches. I ask Claire if this is always going to be lunch and she says yes, but to shut up and don’t complain because it’s the only fresh veges we get! So I don’t say a word! George usually puts out the leftovers from the night before too. Pineapple or bananas or dessert.

Dinner usually is served with creamed soup first and then African stew with mashed potatoes or rice, steak and baked potatoes, chicken and rice with good spices, spaghetti with interesting sauces…and many more good things like that. We sit on little camp stools to eat. A couple times George has fixed the African staple, maize, for us-a kind of fine white corn meal. You dip your fingers into it and form a little ball with which you then dip into a spicy meat stew and eat. When it is dark and getting colder and we want to sit awhile around the campfire we put a few coals on the ground underneath each folding canvas seat…works nicely.

The truck has padlocked compartments all the way around with doors that fold down. George has the keys on a shoelace that he wears around his neck. I get tired trying 14 keys to find the one that unlocks the compartment where our baggage is so I paint the key with someone’s nail polish. George just laughs.

The truck periodically pulls over for “toilet stops.” We scatter…boys on one side of the truck and girls on the other. On one stop I was one of the last to get off and after walking down a small bank I looked to the left and saw 6-7 shiny white butts all in a row. I yelled to the girls that I wished I had my camera-you can imagine the hullabaloo! Our hands get sprayed with disinfectant before we get back on the truck.

There are two heavy plastic drops on each side in place of windows that are rolled up during the day so we get lots of fresh air and can see out. It also gives us accessibility to people standing around the truck when we are parked at border crossings and supply stops for those who choose to stay on the truck. If everyone gets out we put the drops down because local kids are known to jump up and grab things off the seats. If we are in a camp the drops come down to keep the monkeys and baboons out of the truck.

The other riders on the truck ranging from early twenties to early thirties are bright and sassy. Besides Bob and I there are two other couples, Damian and Melissa from Melbourne Australia and Tim and Belinda from New Zealand-the rest are single-Heather and Fiona are sisters from New Zealand, Nikki from New Zealand but had been working as a nanny in London, Michelle, Claire, Sarah and Lorelle traveling together from England. Adrian is from Australia with a Canadian passport who lives and works in London and Pete is a New Zealander. In Victoria we will pick up Michael from Johannesburg South Africa and lose everyone else except Nikki, Fiona, Heather, Sarah, Michelle, Adrian and us. Heather, who was working as a nanny in London had a friend who knew Mick Jagger”s nanny (hope this is right, Heather!)

Most are already well-traveled-the four girls from England spent a year traveling together after “uni” (university) and Michelle and Nikki have done overland trips before-Nikki amazingly did a 6 month overland trip in the year 2000 on the old “hippie trail” from England to Kathmandu via Iran, Pakistan and the Karakoram highway. Both Michelle and Nikki are gunning for a job in the overland business and will remain in Africa at the end of the trip.

It’s fun listening to the British, Aussie and Kiwi accents but they insist Bob and I are the ones with the accent! I am starved for conversation and want to discuss the linguistic, cultural and political differences among the English speakers but I sense they don’t like it…that maybe they assume I am being critical of them…the arrogant American…little do they know how critical I am of my own popular culture and the foreign policies of my government.

There is a library (big box of tattered paperbacks) ranging from slut novels to the Autobiography of Nelson Mandela on the truck for long travel days. There is a cassette deck with speakers at the front and the back. The smokers have to sit in the back-always Michelle in her funky little hat under which you can barely see her sparkly eyes and Rod the tour leader. At the very front of the truck there are two steps up to a section of four seats on each side where the Brits usually sit facing each other so they can chatter. The rest of the seats face forward. There is a cooler for drinks.

We have lucked out with a really nice group that is very compatible and everyone enjoys each other. Tim from New Zealand says he couldn’t imagine his mom doing an overland trip-makes me feel good. Rod has confiscated the Michael Jackson tape but the rest of the music blaring all day on the truck stereo is ungodly as you might imagine. We would prefer to remain steeped in images of Africa…the sounds of the local dialects in soft voices…he sound of children’s laughter…the look of the bright wide smiles…the sounds of the daily village activity and of the animals in the parks, the sight of the incredible red clay soil reflected in the morning and evening light, the mind blowing brightness of the stars at night…the breathtaking red sun while it is setting down on the Zambezi…we have left home partly in an effort to get away from the abrasiveness of western popular culture…but James says the other riders are young-this is their time to enjoy…

Bob and I don’t sit together…24 hours a day since February is more than enough togetherness. The truck is not full and many of us get two seats to ourselves. In July and August we are told the truck will be filled to capacity-36 people! I can’t even imagine it! It is good to be traveling now.

Images of Egypt

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All we have to offer regarding Egypt are images.Very little understanding. We were open; wanted to understand, feeling generous and happy. Smiling. Saying hello to everyone. Thinking we were making friends…now we have only flashes of ambiguous feeling…

When Americans think of poverty they think of India…or Africa. Poverty here is endemic…makes Mexico look like downtown San Francisco…tourism is all they have and after the massacre of tourists in 1997 in Luxor, tourism in Egypt was decimated. The sellers are desperate to sell and the consequent harassment of tourists is unparalled by anything we have ever experienced.

As if this were not enough, Egypt being essentially a police state anyway, has added to the misery. There are police everywhere trying to protect you and individual travel between most cities are not allowed unless as part of a caravan accompanied by a police car and with a policeman in each car. Tourists are only allowed to travel on three of several trains a day from Luxor to Cairo and there are always 5-6 policemen accompanying the first class (misnomer) cars.

On the train returning from Luxor north to Cairo a young Dutch couple was sitting behind us. The fellow had gotten up to stand at the end of the car for awhile but was immediately yelled at and sent back to his seat by the police. As he was continuing to utter expletives, I turned around and said “You have to laugh or you will go crazy in this country!” With a look that could kill he said, “Oh, I am wayyyyy behond that” as he shot himself in the head with his finger. An alternative would be to fly from Cairo to Aswan or Luxor and back.

Tourism has come back up in Luxor since the massacre and we felt completely safe but the country is still reeling from the effects of the massacre and 9/11.

In an interview of several high-end hotel employees in “HE” magazine (Egypt’s GQ) one manager said “for the money they pay us, we insulate our guests from everything they want to be insulated from.” I read this when we first arrived and scoffed at the people who don’t want to be exposed to the ordinary person on the street in a country. After all, isn’t this why we are traveling-to find out how the heart beats on the streets? However next time I visit the middle east I will join a tour group.