When I was 19 years old and terribly unhappy at Cornell University and completely numb to the possibilities of life, the apparent IMPOSSIBILITY of a trip to Africa became a LIFE PRESERVER for me. I borrowed $300 from my parents (they expected me back in a month I think), borrowed 2 bicycles from an aunt and uncle in Holland (thanks again Nell!) and with my girlfriend Denise (Hi Denise!) started a year-long trip that finally landed me in Morrocco. My LIFE PRESERVER became a discreet REALITY, and the reality during the three months I bicycled around that wonderful country finally became an IMPETUS to return home and study architecture.

Africa slowly settled into a DREAM I held for 28 years, and this trip has reawakened me to a continent far more complex and engaging than anything I could have imagined from my earlier trip. Somewhere around Tamanrasset, after all this time, all these abstract Africas made way for a concrete reality and I finally began to think about this continent more simply as a real PLACE inhabited by real people.

When, then, did this PLACE begin to turn into an EXCUSE? Assamakka, probably, or Arlit or shortly thereafter. A French woman on living in Agadez: “Nothing functions, there is no work ethic, but c’est Afrique”! A Nigeran truck driver on his work schedule: “I travel all over: Burkina, Mali, Ghana, Togo, trips that last sometimes a week or more. We don’t sleep in hotels, we sleep in the truck or sometimes we don’t sleep at all. C’est Afrique”! A young guy with dreams of Europe: “I want to get married. I want to find a job. Here there is nothing for me: C’est Afrique”! The place has become the measure of their collective frustration, a way to rationalize thwarted intentions.

There is even a corollary to this construct, and this is particularly evident in Niger. There are signs everywhere there, announcing a wide spectrum of NGOs. For the myriad of foreigners working there, having accepted Africa as an excuse, the PLACE has become a PROJECT. Family planning, Hunger, AIDS, Water, Desertification, Literacy: all of these issues have foreign advocates and volunteers and money. There is even some local cynicism about these efforts, since cars and lodging and equipment up to first world standards always seem to precede and sometimes even supplant any real help.

This is not a critique of foreign aid, though anyone interested in such a critique might read World Hunger, Twelve Myths by Frances Moore Lappe et al. Rather, it is to express amazement at the multiplicity of meanings, and awe at the complexity and the richness here. It is to acknowledge that for me, too, for a very long time, Africa was never simply a place either.

Finally, it is somehow to honor the people and the culture I’ve had the privilege to meet, because Africa as an empty stage would have hosted none of these meanings. I received a much needed lesson in both joy and friendship from each one of them: Yusuf Baba, Hammami Salah, Mohamed el Amjed Ben Hedili Ben Mohamed Ben Romd’hane, Fouruzi (I still want that knife back), Abidi Khalifa, the incredible staff at Oasis in Gabes, the Karboub clan, Luca and Tiziana, Gianluca and Camillo the Italian bikers, Selmi Lamine, Boubridaa Abdelhamid, Begacem and (naughty) Mayssar Rebi, Fatma Boucaina (whose necklace I wore every day), Labchek Ahmed, Wolf Gaudlitz (Salaam Aleikum!), Ben Aoumeur Mohamed (Nina Simone will never sound better), Ben Aoumeur Nadir, Groune Alennas, the Kherfi family, Aliau Doiallu, Ben Aoumeur Abdelabrim, Hadj Toumi, Kader Hafaoui, Kasem Chermel, Faysel Abdelassiz, Faouzi, Omar and Boubacar, Beudjabbara Slimone, Ben Sebgag Lakhdar (my door stands open), Tayeb Benzouada, Benehamine Salah at Dromedaire, Dr. Ounini, Abjau Intalla, Yann del Barco, the kung-fu kids in Assamakka, Isatou Alka, Aboubacar Mahamadou, Abke Geels, Eefje Rammeloo, Nassirou Aboubacar, Kimba Alka Tisserano, Sonfeijmane Gorba (Geutto), Kaore Aboubacar, Douwda Noma, Salima Saka, Orou Adamou A. Roufay, Aboubakar Moussa, the folks at Gusunon Keru, Woru Noel Siraru, Nadine Frouin and finally in Cotonou, Salissoutour Kassimou Serhau-Sa and Noudomissi Aguemon Casimir.

written by  roel krabbendam on March 9, 2007 from Cotonou, Benin
from the travel blog: Harmattan
Send a Compliment

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Hoi , Als ik het goed begrepen heb maak je aanstalten om huiswaarts tegaan .Geen dank voor de fietsen indertijd. Daar heb je familie voor! Maak een goed einde aan je reis en BEHOUDEN THUISKOMST.Groetjes,

written by  Nell krabbendam on March 1, 2007

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dude,,, are you heading stateside?/i am sure you are tired and worn out,, and looking forward to seeing your family,, as they are you..
an adventure that will remain with you for some time to come..congrats!

written by  franklin on March 1, 2007

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what I could really, really use is a coffee frappacino, the largest available. Barring that, a latte. I've got 4 days in Cotonou before the next available flight to Paris to find one.

Thanks for all your thoughts and encouragement along the way!!!

written by  roel krabbendam on March 2, 2007

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Mia plans on greeting you with a Frapacino at the airport....don't tell her I told you....We look forward to you coming home!

written by  p on March 2, 2007

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Thanks for the awesome visuals! The commentary is spectacular. Can't wait to see you.

ps Scott wants to inform you that a couple of things have changed since you've been away ie. email is going to put the post office out of business, internet ...don't worry he'll show you how to use it when you get back, cell phones...pretty cool things if you thought the cordless phone was neat, answering machines...you no longer have to stay by the phone to wait for your book offers to come in, price of gas has ...quadrupled since you've been gone...oh and by the way we've had 3 kids, moved to Australia, and Sophia won the largest lottery purse in history.

Ciou

written by  nieke on March 2, 2007

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It is hard not to be impressed by your gift of writing, there are so many things to say about it, and about so many other aspects of your trip and travail, your benevolence to your fellow humans to name but one. For the moment though I am concerned about your health: what is this thirst and dehydration and craving for sweetness (of the gustatory type)? Is there some underlying cause beyond mere physical exertion in a hot climate? And then there is the chronic diarrhea, have you picked up a parasite like giardiasis?. I hope you get some answers as soon as possible.

John Abernethy

written by  John Abernethy on March 4, 2007

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Here in Charles de Gaulle airport I crave only croissants...gallic ghiardia no doubt...
In any case, I suspect I am OK and that a week at home will do the trick John. Thanks for the compliments and I'm glad you enjoyed the trip.
Cheers, R

written by  roel krabbendam on March 6, 2007

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Noooooooooo!!!!!

You are not allowed to go home! We need more photos from BFE Africa. The site simply cannot survive with out your blog entries. I demand you get back on that bicycle right this minute.

Amazing trip, man. And thanks again for all the great feedback on the site. We're better off for having had you as a user!

Jason

written by  Jason Kester on March 7, 2007

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