wolemba woyendayenda

most importantly, travelling man is a mentality. not of moving from one place to another but continually floating down the rivers of space and time. to float. to flow. to not look for home but make home out of all moments and places. to enjoy it all

In no particular order, film roll no. 3 - a farewell to Africa 1. A Simple Malawian Village Life As Seen By Birds 2. A Cow Shows Me His Prosperous Grasslands 3. Aukoerebis, or Place of Great Noise 4. Wannabee Gangsters 5. Lush Green Grass Covers The Rich Red Sand of The Kalahari 6. The Brukkaros Crater Rises Up From Flat Desert Plains #1 7. The Brukkaros Crater Rises Up From Flat Desert Plains #2 8. Oryx and A Windmill 9. Old Rocks and Old Trees

i have too much to say and too little of the patience to write it all down so photos will have to do for now. the photos were taken from a five day hike across pondoland and xhosaland. each night we stayed in village based accomodation and were treated to local cuisine. life here remains simple. 1. A Bushy Hill Behind A Grassy Hill 2. Locals Reluctantly Give Up Their Picnic Spot To Invading Aliens 3. Anja And Blessings Walk Along A Village Road 4. Donkeys Are Beautiful Too 5. I Share A Sunrise With Goats 6. A Mother Cow And Baby Cow Enjoy A Day At The Beach 7. Lloyd Shares Stories Of Waking Up To Chickens Pooing On His Face 8. Anja Has A Moment With A Hungry Or Curious Chicken 9. A Typical Hiking Moment Feat. Anja And Sophie 10. A Typical Village Scene

the ironic thing is that the painting took up so much of my time, i didn’t get much of a chance to surf or hike or climb. and in particular, i didn’t get a chance to go see the san cave paintings in the drakensberg that the mural is supposedly inspired by. but, i created something worth creating and left behind another piece of myself in africa. hopefully it inspires some people to go see the cave paintings that i missed out on.

fabrice plays the mouth harp in a mulanje mountain hut. listen on loop while you read

nausea; a strange feeling. the head is both buried by an infinite blanket and simultaneously spinning in space. i walked too much. up the ridge, through the crack, over the hill, along the contour, past the mountain lodge, up the l o n g, steep road, a restless sleep, then up the zig zag, along the base of the escarpment, up the chain ladders, over rolling highlands to the falls, then a staggered stumble to reach the peak of Mont-aux-Sources. 3282m. a short rest then a slow hike to crow's nest cave with a throbbing head. no water. a river glinted in the valley below. even without the burden of a heavy pack, the return trip to collect water was surprisingly strenuous, stopping to catch my breath every ten meters. fragile shaun meets the formidable drakensberg. no rest on day three. down to a view of theworldssecondhighestwaterfall, snake around the deeply gouged gullies, then down, down, down the chain ladders, past the looming sentinel, the shadeless, l o n g road, the lush green lowland hills. a short steep climb before plummeting down the impossibly steep mudslide. knees giving, feet pulsing, mind numbing. finally a zombie trudge down the steep path back to the campsite and a nice cleansing shower. ambitious. arduous. adventurous. astounding.

a nice day in durban; you'll have to forgive me once again for the mammoth gap between posts. africa destroys things that we don't need, which for me included my macbook. i get anxious typing on this tiny little screen and so you loyal followers miss out on my funny fables and constant complains regarding this car of mine, and the african mechanics digging its grave. i'm in durban now. nobody told me it would be nice so it is a pleasant surprise. a green city with friendly people, long beaches and big buildings so hideous they are charming. expectations. they really play a big part in travelling. to quote a favourite song of mine, 'i love life surprises so much i don't want to know what's ahead'. i expect the highly recommended drakensberg mountains and transkei coastline will be absolutely mind boggling but it would so much nicer if i tripped and landed in one-or-the-other one day, without warning and then i would stand up and say 'jimeny cricket, this place is really somethin'. why-oh-why does it matter? i dunno, but I swear it does

pictures of poverty; usually show a boy with a blown-up malnourished belly with flies drinking from his eyes. i'm now in mozambique, a country in the top ten poorest countries in the world and i can tell you, such things are rare. the African diet consists primarily of a maize (corn) flour porridge called pap, nsima, xima, posho, ugali, sima (the list goes on), eaten with a tomato based sauce and a small amount of meat if it's available. a whole family can eat for less than a dollar and what is surprising is that they love their maize. rural families grow their own maize and fresh produce and have chickens running around so the cost of living is essentially zero. the men usually find ways to make money and seem to spend it mostly on booze and cigarettes. city/town folk have it tougher. while women tend to maintain a steady, modest income by selling local produce, the men often have ambitions of being successful 'businessmen' and spend their days hustling. honest, hard-working men like these fishermen accept difficult working conditions and low wages in order to provide enough for their families. a day of work on the boat earns them 100 metical, or around aud$2. enough to feed a family, but with nothing to spare. i spent a day on the water with these guys with the intention of going fishing off the coast of vilanculos. my delicate stomach couldn't handle the high seas so i lay pathetically on the deck all day while the men fished. after the initial excitement and anticipation subsided, the reality of the situation revealed itself. there was an urgency to bring in a good catch but the fish weren't hungry. we finished early and sailed sullenly back to shore. there is a net-fishing ban in place for three months of the year and the fishermen really struggle through this period. the intention is to stabilise the fish populations but there are rumours of Chinese fishing boats freely trawling the fish-rich mozambique coastline. fishing prospects are likely to deteriorate. 'life is difficult' is a phrase i've heard too many times. the spirit of the African people keeps them smiling but whenever asked about their wages the answer is almost always the same. the head drops and the face relaxes into a hardened, mournful expression. 'life is difficult'.

more colours; spotted pufferfish, striped lion fish, wavy parrotfish, fluctuating octopus, shimmering, dancing schools of littlefish, shy crayfish, beadyeyed crabs, orange orangefish, slender trumpetfish, tightlipped clams, feline angelfish and so on. and sailboats with beautiful patchy sails and hulls painted with nice colour schemes

colours of mozambique

the magical mysterious mountain tour contd; monte binga - two thousand, four hundred and something metres, stands on the border of zimbabwe and mozambique. another ripper. fabrice and i charged up and down in two days with paolo the guide and with an awful night sleep in a tent atop tall grassy clumps and without mattresses. haha I always find something to complain about. it was bloody bewdiful and super serene

it is true that the language we speak changes the way we think and therefore goes a long way in defining who we are. the countries i have visited so far are english-speaking countries and it has felt very familiar. yes, it’s Africa and yes, there are differences in the way the people live and think but the english are experts at colonisation and did a great job of suppressing the people. what remains is people with little connection to their past, and hence a modern english culture. the moment i crossed into mozambique i noticed a change. in the language, the pace, the people and the architecture. there is a richness that was missing in zambia and malawi. the food is cooked with passion, the clothing are stylish and city streets are colourful and artistic

i've been up in the clouds for five days. the most rewarding hike of my life. a full story is coming soon

environmental sustainability; empty plastic bottles are casually tossed from car windows. plastic bags float in the wind and streams. but where else will they go? the only bins i've seen were in metropolitan blantyre and rubbish was cascading down the sides and pooling in piles at the bottom. the quantity of single-use non-biodegradable materials is marginal compared to the amount we consume in the west. this is driven by poverty. 85% of the diet here is maize porridge called nsima, which is sold in bulk. the remainder is predominantly locally grown organic produce and free range livestock. i use these terms to clarify, but of course here they are simply referred to as what they are, without our modern marketing crap lathered on top. soft drink and beer are the biggest luxury items and the glass bottles are washed and refilled. that leaves only plastic bags which are regularly used for take-away meals. with no garbage disposal system, the plastic is either burned to light the charcoal for cooking or for heating water for showers, or is thrown into the street. 100% of power in malawi come from hydro. that's cool (except when lake levels are low, which they are). the first lady is campaigning for a national clean up day. most people walk or ride bicycles. there are other issues such as inadequate land and wildlife control, deforestation and the inefficient cooking/heating systems but i don't know enough about all that. i think malawi is doing alright

make way for the president; returning from blantyre we were diverted off the road to allow the president's convoy to pass. it felt as though a wave of power preceding the man parted the sea of poverty allowing him to pass unhindered

i learned to sail! about bloody time. my expectations were so high that i’m having trouble deciphering how much i actually enjoyed it but i can say it was on the ‘real cool time’ end of the fun / not-fun spectrum. don’t be fooled by the baby blue colour of the boat; she moves like a red one. captain kelp-baby, jib-master lula and i sailed our way to a fishing village where we were greeted by screaming children. we felt like pioneering explorers, except our intentions weren’t to dominate the locals. just to smile and say hi and bye and be on our way.

a kid holds on to my leg in a 'fast taxi' on the way to mangochi; there are no mastercard atms in monkey bay so i took a day trip to nearby mangochi to get some cash. it was my first time on public transport since namibia and i loved engaging with the people again. taxi's are cheap ($3 to go 70kms) but you must be willing to be packt like sardines in a crushd tin box and possibly listen to the blood-curdling cry of tiedup goats on the way to someone's plate