The traveller crosses over leylines of a sort, places where energy has accumulated like veins of quartz in a grey rock, places where history has waded through and solidified, where emotion has held. The old slave markets of Zanzibar hold the sorrow of the human being traded as a commodity, the ancient rock-hewn churches of the Ethiopian highlands hold piety and worship in their cool old walls, the Nile holds dreams, agonies and fevers on the darkest of continents, as well as beginnings of ancient civilizations, life and hope for countless desert dwellers. Sudan reverberates with civil war and hatred, old tanks pock the highland hills of Ethiopia and bandits roam the northern reaches of Kenya.
The land tells its own tales, it talks of overcultivation, overpopulation, deforestation, sustenance, nurturing and supreme beauty. The Sahara whispers and glimmers in mirage oases, and her endless sand wisdom is unravelled by camel traders and villages of mud that peep over the sand barely revealing their heads.
Amongst all that is past and present, people live, laugh, eat, make love and war. A human cycle, living and creating history on this enormous colourful continent of Africa. Various cultures, peoples, languages. I feel privileged to have sampled their uniqueness.
Scenes flow though me. I have dhows that sail through me as on the waters of the Swahili coast. I can taste the sweet hibiscus and mint tea of the North African Arabs. Ethiopian angels look down on me as if from a church ceiling. I see flamingos gather in their thousands and fly off in waves of pink feathers from the Lakes of the Rift Valley. I see spices piled high in the sprawling market of Addis Ababa. I watch a Maasai man walking proudly with his stick in hand and red wrap flapping in the wind. I am a kaleidoscope of images, bright vivid colours moving, growing, diminishing, changing and then widening again to form mandalas in mandalas.
I wallow in the romance. Yet at times, I have to shovel through the poverty, dirt and bureaucracy that is so much a part of this continent to find it. But then, there is a chance greeting through a green field, a smile that flies like a soft bird to land gently on your shoulder, a gesture of hand over heart, and the word ‘welcome’ in so many languages.
I recall when I was made to feel welcome by a group of Muslim women draped in colourful material as we waited out a dust storm in Khartoum and later watched the Sufi Whirling Dervish ceremony outside the mosque as it gained momentum with song and drumbeat. I think back to a memory of Ethiopia when walking through a market I was invited to join a family for an Ethiopian festival and coffee ceremony. They welcomed me, shared their local food cooked on the fire outside, poured glasses of homemade beer and served the three traditional cups of coffee. The daughters taught me the sensuous Ethiopian dance of rotating shoulders with hands on hips and we smiled and laughed together. There were times when weary of travel, I was welcomed into the Catholic missions of northern Kenya and southern Ethiopia, where I feasted on the simple peace. I wrote love letters in Luxor for an Egyptian man who was unable to write to his girlfriend in English. ‘I long for you my love ……’ has all the magic and mystery of hot Arabian nights and the words reverberate through me. Always, passing through villages, towns, cities I am touched by the good grace of people. I am advised, helped with translation and directions, and my way forward is eased. I am granted passage.
Africa, like so many third world countries, teaches me about opposites. How never to lose faith. In the harshest of circumstance genuine goodwill shines through. It has been my luck to find this, and I hold it close to my heart.
Wild animals, moving deserts, the mighty Zambezi, the splendour of the pyramids, feluccas on the Nile. I smell strong Ethiopian coffee and the haunting smell of frankincense thrown on hot coals drifts with me over time. An African kaleidoscope. Images flow through me. And always, the kindness of people remains. I am left humbled by the generosity of strangers.