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“Africa’s large problems are largely large Africans” </br> PJ O’Rourke

I've made it to South Africa! (1st September 2002)

Roundtheworldbybike
2005-11-18 11:35:03

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my approach to the final country of the continent [see Final Middle Eastern Report].

But If you can Hold on for long enough you’ll get there in the end. And so eventually I found myself crossing the Limpopo River into South Africa. It was a great (and greasy grey-green) moment! It has been 6 years since I left South Africa at the end of my Gap year and it felt very, very good to be back. For almost a year I had been looking forward to this moment and the anticlimax was inevitable: no cheering crowds of hysterical blondes to welcome me, no gentle sunlit freewheel all the way down to Cape Town. It was just bloody windy. On top of that I had no money for the next three days and only two loaves of dry bread to eat. Does that make my salvaging of two abandoned gravel-covered marshmallows from the roadside any more excusable? I fear not!

The Afrikaaner stronghold of Potgietersrus reminded me once again of what an odd country this is. Large men in long socks and Under-13’s sized rugby shorts. Amusing haircuts and large moustaches. Thriving First World alongside struggling Third World. The weird, weird, juxtaposition of genuine warmth, hospitality, kindness, Christianity and yet an invariable propensity for beginning sentences with “I’m not a racist but…”. My ride through South Africa will be a fascinating yet upsetting one.

I was heading for Jane Furse, the small town where I had taught for a year between school and University. I looked around eagerly, wondering what I would remember, looking forward to recognising people and places for the first time in a whole year, looking forward to not having to ask directions. Jane Furse lies in the heart of Lebowa, one of the scrubby, barren Homelands where black people were dumped to make even more room for the white population in the fertile parts of the country. Life in Lebowa is hard, very hard, even in these post-Apartheid days. You rarely see a white face in Lebowa. And even though I was more at home here than anywhere in the rest of Africa I was more afraid to bush-camp here than ever before. The blacks in South Africa have been abused so grotesquely that I felt I could scarcely hold a grudge against anyone who decided to kill me and steal all my stuff. I hid very well that first night. Yet, like nearly everywhere else in Africa, I encountered nothing but laughter and warmth riding through the Homeland.

Arriving at my old school was wonderful; to meet old friends once more and wander around memory lane. It was also intriguing for me to see how my perceptions have changed from being an 18 year old single-handedly saving the world to a cynical old 25 year old who has almost cycled the length of Africa.

Only a couple of thousand kilometres to go now! Cape Town awaits…!