Ubuntu – Life-changing Africa - AdventureRiderMagazine

This entry is part 9 of 20 in the series Adventure Rider Issue #21

An African Odyssey

A ride across Africa became an extraordinary adventure that changed Heather Ellis’ life forever.

The snap decision was a light-bulb moment at a barbeque in Australia’s Northern Territory. As soon as I blurted out, “Wouldn’t it be great to ride a motorcycle across Africa,” I knew I’d do it.

The TT600 bogged in a dry riverbed in Northern Kenya.

The year was 1992 and I was working at the Ranger uranium mine on the fringe of Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory. This was before the plethora of websites, blogs, magazines and books filled with every detail one needs to embark on a motorcycle adventure. Even so, once the planning began (a process of 12 months), everything fell into place and the philosophy of ‘everything happens for a reason and everything will always work out’ became a central theme for my journey: a friend gave me a dog-eared copy of Ted Simon’s classic motorcycle travel memoir Jupiter’s Travels; a German motor-cycle traveller who’d just ridden through Africa turned up on my doorstep and his advice was invaluable; and when I bought my new Yamaha TT600, right there on the shop floor was a second-hand frame and set of heavy-duty leather panniers for $500. It was custom-made for a Swiss guy who’d just finished his ride around Australia. With a few minor adjustments the frame and panniers fitted the TT600 perfectly.

Loading the TT600 on to a cargo ship in Fremantle for the 10-day voyage across the Indian Ocean to South Africa.

The author and Kaoru from Japan with her Suzuki FX200 on the shores of Lake Malawi. She was the only other woman encountered travelling alone by motorcycle.

Sum of the parts

Realistically, I should’ve chosen a smaller, lighter bike. The TT350 had nearly the same power as the 600 and would’ve been much easier to ride. The TT600 was also kick-start, but with auto decompression I soon mastered the art of firing up the beast.

It proved to be the perfect motorcycle for Africa. Its single-cylinder, big-bore engine had more than enough grunt to carry me and my gear up and over mountain roads, through mud and sand and over rocks on roads that resembled goat tracks. With a dry weight of 120kg it was also light enough, once I’d off-loaded my luggage, to cross rivers in a canoe or be hoisted up on top of a truck or train. I also fitted a 21-litre Acerbis tank which, depending on fuel quality, gave me a range of 450km.

Outside the Cold Drink Hotel, Loiyangalani,near Lake Turkana, northern Kenya.

It was the very last of the pure enduro models and at the time was the bike of choice for the Paris-Dakar. With its deep, almost primeval sound that said ‘power and strength’ this bike became my companion, my loyal friend and my protector. Yes, we made ‘the bond’.

I was also lucky enough to receive support from Mobil, Yamaha and Tsubaki. Mobil provided free petrol and oil from depots throughout Africa. Yamaha supplied a bevy of spare parts and Tsubaki provided four motorcycle chains.

Hitching a lift with fisherman on Lake Turkana,Northern Kenya.

Service centred

I’d ridden motorcycles since I was eight years old, first growing up on a sheep station in outback Australia, then on a farm on the east coast, and more recently exploring the hidden gorges of Kakadu. But I’d never travelled on a motorcycle and I had no mechanical skills. I’d always had my dad, my brother and,later, mechanically-minded boyfriends to maintain and fix my bikes. It was this lack of knowledge that caused me the most fear about my trip in those early days of planning. But the idea to travel Africa by motorcycle gripped my very soul and nothing could deter me, not even the barrage of doubts from friends and workmates (from my travels through Africa and Central Asia I soon learnt the basics of motorcycle mechanics and today service all my own bikes).

On the mud highway from Bukavu to Kisangani. There was always someone to help.

Stand alone

I must admit it was with a great sense of relief I found a travelling companion two months before departure. A workmate decided to join me, and even though we hardly knew each other, I thought our common desire to travel Africa would make us suitable travelling companions. Not so.

For five tension-filled months we travelled from Jabiru, down the West Australian coast to Perth, boarded a cargo ship in Fremantle for the 10-day crossing to Durban in South Africa, then rode north to Kenya. We parted ways in Nairobi. He went by cargo ship to Europe from Mombasa and I ventured into Africa alone.

And this is when my odyssey really began.

A word here about travelling companions.

Back in 1993 there were quite a few people travelling Africa by motorcycle. In fact, at one campsite on the shores of Lake Malawi, there were 10 – four Australian, one New Zealander, two Swiss, one German and two Japanese (the only women being one of the Japanese and myself). Cape MacClear in Malawi is one of those key meeting points for travellers of all descriptions. Another was Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe and also Mama Roche’s backyard campsite in Nairobi, Kenya. When I arrived at these places, it was just accepted we’d hang out together.

We were motorcyclists: we were of the same ‘tribe’.

These days it appears there are literally hundreds, if not thousands, travelling the world by motorcycle, including many women.

So if you’re worried about travelling alone, don’t be. You won’t be alone for long. In fact, I suggest you’re better off alone as you’ll have a far more interesting experience, and a far richer cultural experience, as the locals will be less inclined to approach when you’re with another rider or in a group.

They’ll think you’re always okay because you’ve got a friend. But when you’re alone, they’ll want to help you. And this is ‘ubuntu’.

It’s a Bantu word from South Africa that literally means ‘I am because we are’, or the universal bond that connects us all as one. It became the title of my book because it encapsulated the very essence of my journey. Rather than harm me, people always wanted to help me and offer me food or a place to sleep.

This kindness of strangers echoes many travellers’ experiences.

Crossing the Ntem River at Gabon into Cameroon. The author was nervously sitting in another little boat being rowed across this river.

In a word

I first came across the word ubuntu in Cape Town when a young African woman asked me, “White woman, why you travel Africa?” Her voice demanded my attention, as if it were the voice of one who rallies others to fight, and, this being a year before apartheid ended, I thought she may have something to do with the anti-apartheid movement.

“I felt drawn here,” I replied. “There’s a kind of humanness to Africa we don’t have in the west.”

“Ubuntu,” she’d smiled knowingly. “You will find the way of ubuntu as you travel Africa.

The African people will help you.”

From the very beginning of my travels, and especially once I was on my own, my journey quickly unfolded as a spiritual exploration of a search for some greater, unspoken meaning.

This too is not uncommon for those that travel independently.

Hot, tired, thirsty and not showered for days, but bliss-fully happy at a rest stop in Mali where herders were watering their cattle.

Girl’s guide

There are no distractions when you travel alone and I believe when this happens you begin to search for meaning in how events unfold.

As my journey progressed I began to search for meaning in the coincidences and chance encounters that came my way with frequent, almost daily, regularity. I soon began to accept these, which only fed my positive attitude. Because no harm ever came to me, I didn’t expect it to. Without another to ask, “Should I go this way or that way, do this or that,” I relied on my intuition to help me make all my decisions.

But this isn’t to say I always made the right decisions.

I was riding to Lake Turkana, an alkaline lake surrounded by inhospitable desert and scrubland, where my intention was to see the fossils of our early ancestors. I wanted to stand on that very spot where we all came from. But to do so, I was advised to take a guide, and we negotiated a fee of US$150 which he would waive if I took a short detour to search for sapphires. According to the guide the detour was no more than 50km. It became an eight-day adventure that left us dehydrated and weak from hunger until we reached the lake and were rescued by Turkana fisherman.

Fifteen months and count-less punctures developed the puncture-repair expertise. There’s not much tread on that tyre.

No cheating

After risking my life and surviving that experience, I questioned what I was doing in Africa. I considered going home, but the moment I thought about doing that I couldn’t give up. My only thought was an overwhelming sense of expectation for my journey and what I would discover. I rode on through Uganda and across Zaire, one of the most lawless and difficult-to-travel countries on the planet. I rode through West Africa and then to Mauritania.

All up, after starting in Australia in February 1993, I rode 42,000km through 19 countries on my slow meander into the soul of Africa. And while I encountered many challenges, wild and remote places and extraordinary people, I was embraced by all. I was shown ubuntu. But there’s a twist to this story and the final pages of the book will leave you numb. Staple the pages shut so you aren’t tempted to read the ending!

Just the beginning

Everything I awakened to through my motorcycle travels across Africa has never left me. That journey continues today.

I’ve become an advocate for motorcycle road safety as a member of the Victorian Government’s Motorcycle Expert Advisory Panel, as well as advising the government on road safety measures, our aim is to also change public perception of motorcycling from one of temporary Australians to one of being part of the solution to traffic congestion. I am also a founding member of the IRG (Independent Riders Group), a motorcycle road-safety political lobby group.

If you want to get involved, you can find out more at www.facebook.com/IndependentRidersGroup/

These days I live in the Yarra Ranges where some of the best motorcycling roads are right on my doorstep. Tomorrow, (in about 10 years when my three boys are grown), I’ll dust off my beloved TT and our odyssey will continue. We’ll ride from South to North America and beyond.

Just like Africa, we will go where and when the wind blows us.

Our journey, once again, will be a slow meander as we explore further that search for some greater ‘unspoken’ meaning.

If you’d like to get some detail on Heather’s life-changing ride, Ubuntu: One Woman’s Motorcycle Odyssey Across Africa is published by Nero/Black Inc and is available in all book stores and online for $29.99. You can also purchase a signed copy, and read more about Heather, including an excellent detailed rundown of equipment and preparation, at www.heather-ellis.com.

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