Random musings

"Enemy spotted... we caught em' napping, control."
"This is control. Buzz 2-9'er, you are cleared to attack."
"Roger, we are beginning our descent. Malaria cannons armed and... firing."
In my mind it's perfectly realistic that this is what mosquito 'radio chatter' sounds like... What do we as humans really know about mosquitos? Hell, we haven't been able to wipe out malaria in Africa yet.

These were some of the bizarre thoughts running through my head last night between bouts of smacking myself across the head trying to kill the mosquitos swarming me. My mozzie net had big holes in it. I emerged victorious in the end, with a body count of about 14, and 30 minutes wasted. I can't tell you how evil 2 African-sized mosquitos buzzing around your head in stereo sounds.

What was the point of that story?
...
So anyway, after getting all riled up, I couldn't sleep. So I read. Like I've been doing non-stop for the past few days while I get over my cold. I finished a book called 'Road Fever' by Tim Cahill, which is about his Guiness-Book record making road trip from Argentina to Alaska in 25 days. What an amazing book and an amazing writer. I found myself identifying very closely with this guy, his co-driver and their excruciatingly hilarious and moving experiences along the way. What the book gave me was a deeper understanding of just how remarkable (and sometimes similar) my adventures have been, even if I haven't been able to fully get that across in my blog - when you're working with African computers and limited time, you can't refine things as well as you'd like. Which brings me to my next point.

I once heard somewhere that if you want a project to be successful, you shouldn't tell the world about it until it's too late for you to turn back. The rationale behind this is that the vast majority of people in the world love telling you that you can't do something (normally because they don't beleive THEY can), and ultimately you'll succumb to the barrage of naysaying. My homeys Richard Branson and Robert Kiyosaki know what I'm talking about. However, as I get older, I care less and less what people think of my abilities, because I know my potential is literally limitless (either that, or the size of my ego), and failure is NOT the end of the world; in fact, it's a hallmark of all successful peoples' pasts. I've reevaluated the necessity of remaining tight-lipped.

So I've decided that now is as good a time as any to unveil my latest 'project'. Thankfully this time, it won't involve ducking the police in Zimbabwe. No, it's something far more cutthroat, if I can believe what I've heard of the industry. I'm going to publish a book about my experiences. This brainchild came to me a few months ago, sitting on a standing-room-only coach bus through Botswana while the driver was dodging sheep and donkeys on the highway at 90 kph. I may be wrong, but I think I've already banked enough experiences this trip to warrant sharing it with my wider, and, although they don't know it yet, adoring public (and if I'm wrong, I don't want to hear about it, you filthy naysayers!) In my humble opinion, I can do this in a writing style that's much more entertaining than hundreds of books I've picked up (and quickly put down) in my lifetime. You wouldn't believe some of the shit they publish - and hey, that just might work to my advantage!

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what I'm going to do when I get home. I've discovered though talking to other travelers that around the 3 month mark is when just about everybody starts getting homesick, sick of living out of a bag, sick of being crammed into overcrowded dorms and overcrowded buses. My brother Rob, who sent me an email today that made me feel better, went through it in South America last year. While I'm a firm believer in creating your own happiness and that seeking it elsewhere is a temporary fix at best, I'm really looking forward to seeing Lesley on Thursday. For many reasons, but specifically in this case to distract me from brooding about the comforts I'm missing out on, and dwelling in the future, which can be as destructive as dwelling in the past.

But let's be honest, I'm not one to waste an opportunity to bitch and moan. On that note, may I present, a homage to the little things:

I miss my hometown, Sarnia (never thought I would say that). I miss my family house. I miss raiding the fridge to make a sandwich in a dark kitchen when mom has long gone to bed and Rob is on the computer. I miss watching 10 minutes of bad TV while I scarf my food down before going to bed. I miss random Tuesday night dinners at John's restaurant and running into acquiaintances. I miss playing guitar alone in the living room.

I miss the cold - again, an unexpected revelation to myself. I look forward to walking around snow covered landscapes of frost encrusted tree branches on a crisp afternoon when you can see your breath. I miss the peace and quiet that comes with a windless January afternoon in semi-rural Ontario. Surprisingly, I miss virtually nothing about Toronto, except maybe the freedom of living in a bachelor pad and having a purpose (aka a job). Shocking, considering I had become a fully converted Toronto enthusiast in the last few years.

Why I haven't been able to find the same peace in Africa, a continent with abundant, empty wilderness, still eludes me. Maybe it's not even about the peace or solitude. Maybe what I actually miss is familiarity. It disturbs me a little bit. That, and something else has been bothering me lately. I feel guilty saying this, let alone thinking it, so bear with me.

Am I the only guy in the world that has not been able to find the suffering in Africa?

Ten African countries now, and I truly believe that things are really not that bad. Of course I've encountered pockets of desperation - the guys who swarmed our minibus taxi in Tanzania, shoving bunches of onions to sell through the windows; the beggars on the streets in Cape Town. But hell, we have worse urban poverty in downtown Toronto. Africa is not the broken, hopeless continent I expected it to be.

Near the start of my trip, a good friend of mine who is traveling South East Asia emailed me and recounted a personal story. Passing a streetside cafe in either Thailand or Cambodia where white tourists were comfortably enjoying their pad thai, my friend noticed a naked girl of no more than 5 years old wandering the streets, obviously homeless and hungry, maybe abandoned. Ignoring what was right in front of their eyes, not one of those tourists lifted a finger to do something. How? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? Because they're on vacation and don't want to deal with this shit? What kind of a world are we living in? I don't get mad easily, but this still enrages me. On behalf of humanity, thank you, Erin, for buying that little girl something to eat.

It's that kind of madness, and a belief that I as a human being can do something about it, that brought me to Africa. But In 3 and a half months here, nothing I've seen has moved me, emotionally, like that email. I thought I would be tripping over causes, yet I haven't found one. Is something wrong with me? I don't doubt that there's a whole lot that I'm not seeing. And statistically, intellectually, I know that things are grim: this many people have AIDS, the average life expectancy in this country is 40, people in xyz province live on less than a dollar a day. And yet virtually everywhere I go, life goes on. People are happy, smiling and friendly. Families actually spend time with each other, and interact with their neighbours. A random traveler told me a story the other day. A lady she met in a remote rural village commented, "I feel sorry for the people of the city, because they are always frowning. Here in the village we have the best life." Will giving Africans access to TVs, cars, and a new flavour of Coke improve their lives one damn iota?

What I've learned from this, is that we in the west have to be very careful about how we handle development and aid. Alleviating suffering = good. Improving health and education = always good. Annihilating HIV/AIDS = imperative. It is not as clear that development for the sake of development, is always good. Molding 'these savages' in our image is not going to make for a better world or raise universal happiness levels. I think that often, governments especially and Non-Governmental Organizations secondarily, fall into the trap of thinking 'development = good'. And I acknowledge that such an erroneous belief is slowly disappearing after the failed World Bank mega-projects of earlier decades. But allow me to put forth a humble proposition: If Africans live in mud huts, live out their days as subsistence farmers and lack access to the Internet; as long as they are happy and have the same opportunities as everyone else (health, education, etc.), that is OK. We don't need a Westernized world, thank you very much.

Many of you know I want to run for political office some day. Whenever I write a blog entry in the back of my mind I wonder if the things that I say here are going to come back to haunt me someday in a world that is often far too sensitive, that misinterprets. I know some of what I'm saying here is highly philisophical and radical, but I hope it's not misinterpreted. Those of you that know me, know that whatever I do is motivated by a desire to see a better world for everyone. Talk to you all soon.