Photo 1#: The gorgeous Aziza mosque in Konya, Turkey
Little beknownst to most people, the trip actually started in frigid Turkey, because remember, no one offered direct flights to South Africa in the height of Omnicron. We skidded around in summer tires on our rental car, got stuck behind a pile-up for 4 hours in a heavy blizzard because half of Turkey was also skidding around in summer tires in their coldest winter in 20 years. It snowed on the beach in Antalya. We stood in waist-deep snow in the driveway digging our car out while the gleeful snow flurries made fresh heaps wherever we shovelled. Life was comically futile, but of course, none of us was laughing then.
Africa. In a year we barely skimmed the surface, covering a quarter or less of this huge continent. Africa is not for the thin-skinned – the sheer amount of beggars, touts, corrupt police and military, unofficial officials, “guides”, “parking attendants” and every possible occupation in between invented on the spot wants a slice of your pie. Beggar isn’t quite the right term. A beggar knows he or she is one, fallen far from society’s graces. Here both adults and children ask for money without shame, almost as if its just the most natural thing in the world to do. So you must politely decline several dozen times a day with a smile, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do.
I don’t regret any of it. It is tough on many occasions, especially with corrupt cops. The Singaporean in me bristles with great injustice as they snatch my passport or driving license away to hold it hostage while they spin the wildest stories on why you are being given a spot fine or not able to pass through the border. This game comes naturally to them, so you have to get good at biting back the tongue-lashing, put on your most placating smile and wait. And wait. And wait. The one who can wait the longest wins. I do like winning.
That isn’t Africa – well it isn’t once you grow accustomed to it. Africa offers astounding beauty where you least expect it, the kindest of hearts, the happiest of souls. Africa is where the Cape Vultures and Bearded Vultures ride the thermals, casting great shadows over you as they pass overhead. It is where you will discover a thousand shades of desert, ancient forests, deep meandering rivers filled with crocodiles, hippos AND children at the same time. Curious giraffes, eland, kudu and zebras watch you, the little human being, passing through their homelands with the click-click of cameras, and rumble of diesel engines. The apex predators stroll by or lounge around casually, allowing themselves to be seen and heard – when they feel like it.
Africa is a bountiful land. Several hundred mangoes hang off a single tree in both Malawi and Mozambique, and we pass several hundreds of such trees in a single drive. Fruits, vegetables, fish, meats are stacked high in buckets, on the floor or simple wooden tables with thatched roofs overhead at weekly village markets. I was stuffing my face with strawberries, mulberries, raspberries for a dollar a kilo in the highlands of Malawi. You could get two thick, beautiful cuts of steaks for less than five dollars in South Africa. In Mozambique, we couldn’t even finish the huge live lobster that I turned into a ginormous lobster bisque for 10 dollars per kilo. Yes, the war in Ukraine has driven up prices – especially fuel – worldwide, but in countries where food is produced locally, the prices of are more stable than what it is here in Singapore, where every single food item is imported.
While South America was more rewarding for the landscape views, being English–speaking brought us closer to the people throughout Africa. Many of the Southern African nations were once British colonies (with the exception being Mozambique, which was a former Portuguese colony). We learned why there is a prevalence of underage marriages in Malawi, how boreholes are dug and who funds them in Zambia, insider stories into the agricultural and tobacco industry in South Africa and Malawi, the history and gossip behind the kingdoms of Eswatini and Lesotho, and skimmed the surface of the really complicated politics within and between governments, NGOs and the rest of the world. We were taken under the wings of the kindest and sweetest human beings, who made us part of the family we did not have on that continent.
I barely slept the entire year. Hippos grunted outside, hyenas yelled and whooped around our Land Cruiser, elephants broke off tree branches indiscriminately around us, the temperatures in the rooftop tent fluctuated vastly between night and day, the salty humidity clung to my skin and the sheets in Mozambique and villagers (drunks and sober alike) occasionally knocked on the door of our cruiser to wake us up, fearing for or compromising our safety. But I would do it all over again (well maybe not next year) to watch the sun rise in Lake Malawi of the far east, set in the desolate Skeleton Coast in the far west, feel my heart soar with the vultures as they let their great wings carry them into the thermals, watch the baby elephants play with their friends at the waterhole, admire the strong feline curves and battle scars of the resting lioness and unwind in the great mountains, forests, deserts and bush where there is a real silence and a natural symphony that my heart and soul cannot get by without.
I am grateful to have spent another year living. Here’s to 2022 
