So, the end! I feel a little strange writing my final Racing the Swift, the last 10 days have made me feel like it wasn’t really me who did it but a totally different person had completed that challenge! I now feel as unfit and lazy as ever, pretty well normal again.

As promised I am going to write a few final thoughts and some more ‘general observations’, the most frustrating thing about writing this blog, is one, I forget everything I want to write, and two, if I remembered it all I could just go on and on and on. There really is so much to write, Africa, is a fascinating continent (and I barely even scraped the surface!). Feeling quite relaxed and melancholy right now, so sorry if I’m not as absolutely hilarious as Mertesacker....

But first. A quick return to the reason I took this safari.

So far I have raised around eleven thousand pounds (around one pound for every kilometre travelled – including hitches, have a look at my 'Final Route'), the vast majority of which will go to the Rhinos, Asian and African. I am unbelievably chuffed with this, I know my target was 30,000 but, I really only set that so I wouldn’t get there too easily...

There is no way I can express my gratitude to the support I have been shown over the last 4 months. It has been flabbergasting. A block capitals THANK YOU +8 ! by email really doesn’t do the job. I have been so touched and honoured by the friendship and generosity shown by you all. I just don’t know what to say - THANK YOU!!!!!!!, ?

I would like to make one final appeal, as donations are still very much being taken. I have avoided going into the drastic state of the Ocean, and the dire dire straits that Rhinos are in. I will keep avoiding it, you read the papers, you know. We are in trouble. The rhino is a milestone mammal, when he goes, the rest will follow. The big 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Boom.

Doom.

The Ocean is so unfathomably (nice) important to us and yet we ignore what we are doing to it. I really think it would be well worth your whiles going on the TerraMar and the SavetheRhino websites and reading up on their work and what needs to be done. Especially those who have donated - you should know how important your donation has been, it is not my thanks that you should acknowledge, but the hope and help you have created and the knowledge you have joined a mammoth (nice) fight.

Now, to those of you who haven’t donated and have been reading this ‘blog’! If you have enjoyed it, please get your wallet out! We (us all) need it. It’s a little like walking past a busker and catching yourself dancing or humming, once that has happened you are obliged to pay him! If you haven’t been enjoying it, then I am sure you won’t have read this far. Many of you have been waiting for pay day, or haven’t got round to it yet. NOW IS THAT TIME!!! 

A message for very close friends who haven't donated: I am a skint Scottish Spurs fan, a combination of some very stingy stereotypes. An anteater never forgets.

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/www.racingtheswift.com 

Finally, as you all know, I am one of the world’s biggest attention seekers, I have secretly (I think probably not such a secret) really enjoyed writing this blog, despite my feeble claims against it. I am now working on a conservancy in Northern Kenya for the next two months (Borana is one of the projects partially funded by Save the Rhino. An amazing full circle for me, having volunteered in their London office, raised funds, and now on the ground), after that I am working on Kipling Camp, a camp in the jungle in India dedicated to Tiger and wildlife preservation.

I plan to write the occasional update/’blog’, I think both places will be fascinating. I also hope to post more photos. In this age of Post-Modemism it is so easy. I know that it will me nowhere close to as original as the bike ride, and you are all sick of my self-indulgent writing style, but if you would like to know when I have written one, please send me a tiny email to ivandeklee@gmail.com, just saying yes! Please don’t worry if you don’t email me, I won’t notice, and I understand!

One final thank you, goes to my whole extended family. They have been out of this world. But, especially my parents and siblings. As I have told them, their constant support, made me cry on more than one occasion! I am a lucky lucky man.

(Oh! To anyone who got last week’s title well done! Eye, van, L, knot, Bee, bikes, Tanzania.

Ivan-(b)likes-Tanzania.)

Day to day Live

I guess what I think I may have left out of my blog over the last months is the day to day life, that became completely normal for me and is completely normal for those living in rural Africa, but I guess (?) might help you all form an image of what it’s like here. In Eastern Africa, it became slightly harder to find places to camp, especially from Burundi through to Kenya. There were much fewer remote spots, and no tourist campsites. This was no real problem for me as there are hundreds of ‘Guesthouses’ or ‘Inns’ in any centre (village/town, short for trading centre) with more than a few people. They are a good example of daily life.

Guesthouses

Almost all had swarms of mosquitoes fizzing in my ears as I went to sleep and munching their way through the night. Almost none had mosquito nets.
Almost all were super cheap, some were sickeningly overpriced.
Many had massive cockroaches that scuttled around the floor (once you’re used to the sound its fine!), that you could hear hissing away. Only a few had running water.
Every single one had squatting toilets. Every single one had power cuts.
Showers were a bucket of cold water along with a smaller bucket. Appropriately dubbed the ‘Sploosh’ by WJR.

The Village

Water, if there was a tap, always tastes grim. (Having said that, I complain about the difference in taste between upstairs and downstairs taps at home. Perhaps I am too picky....?) 
In almost every village I passed through, there would be queues of people at the well or pump, all waiting with their big plastic containers to fill up and carry home on their heads. Usually women or children.

Other general aspects

I ate with my hands for months (Why does India get the hand eating and squatting loos rep?? In Africa it is much more obvious!),
African food is not very tasty. My/their diet tended to be Ugali/Nsima (white stuff) with chicken or goat (if you can afford meat). This chicken I am certain was usually prize winning cock fighting cockerel. So tough and chewy, mindblowingly so! Always ate it all. (For the amount of fruit and veg on the roadside remarkably little on the plates!)

There is noise everywhere. Always. In Africa, the awake take priority over the sleeping. If you wake up at 5, you can chat and make as much noise as you like. You’re awake. It’s your right. You can also play music as loud as you want as late as you want, in every village and town, one thing people invest in are speakers. There is always a boombox, or a few tinny mobile phones playing barely discernible melodies. 
Cockerels in the morning, traffic in the day, music at night. Always noise! Which for me was no problem either, I’d pass out at night, and needed the wake up calls.

Me

I am always sweating.                                  

Drink (ATTENTION: THIS IS BIG GENERALISATION. ABSOLUTELY NOT ALWAYS THE CASE). 

Unfortunately a very unattractive side of society here is the drink. Universally, booze cause problems. We all know that, be it through alcoholism or be it through getting too pissed and confessing your love to someone you would actually rather never see again. It’s troublesome. Sadly in many parts of Africa, that trouble is found everywhere. The men start drinking in the morning  , spirits (home brewed or uber cheap – unnamed “spirit”), Chibuku, moonshine, imported or locally brewed. Doesn’t matter. A large proportion of the poor unemployed men tend to be pissed most of the time. The women working in the fields and the shops. During my entire trip, the only times I felt a little nervy was when I started being surrounded by alcohol stinking guys. All wanting to chat and touch me and lady love. It was quite intimidating. Pubs and bars are usually found attached to guesthouses... A real shame, but with little else to do, hitting the drink is about their only option (that or working, like their wives. Who are doing all this, with a rucksack baby on board.)

All these little aspects, the lack of water, the mosquitoes-often malarial, the powercuts, the lack of any diet variation, the booze and the toil is day to day life for a huge amount Africans, you become so used to it and it is so normal that you don’t blink, but thinking back, it isn’t really surprising how slowly life rolls on. Black out.

Ive had many conversations

A few more amusing/demonstrative conversations typical of my days on the road:

Africans have a deep pride, a pride within themselves and also a strong nationalistic pride. They very rarely (never?) admit that they are wrong and will never let on that they don’t know the answer to something; it is always “yes” even if the real answer should be “I don’t even understand what you’re saying mate”.

Here are two are a good example of this:

Mzungu: Jambo! Do you have any biscuits??
Shopkeeper: Jambo! Which type?
Mzungu: Any?
Shopkeeper: Which type?
Mzungu: Any! Chocolate creams, glucose, nice. Any.
Shopkeeper: No, we have none of those.
Mzungu: You don’t have any do you?
Shopkeeper: Nope.
Mzungu: Right. Thanks. Very helpful.

Zimbabwean Policeman: Stop! Stop!
(Mzungu stops)
Sweaty Ivan: Hello! What is the problem?
Zimbabwean Policeman: You like Zimbabwe?
Sweaty Ivan: Yes! Very much, I love it here, beautiful scenery, amazing wildlife, friendly people.
Zimbabwean Policeman: Goooood. It’s very good isn’t it?
 Sweaty Ivan: Oh yes.
Zimbabwean Policeman: What about Zambia? What did you think of Zambia?
Sweaty Ivan: I loved it there, such friendly people. Everyone seemed very happy. Just great.
Zimbabwean Policeman: Oh no no no no. No no no. Zambia is very smelly, very dirty. Don’t you agree?
Sweaty Ivan: Oh! Yes of course. Very smelly, very smelly indeed. Zimbabwe is much better.
Zimbabwean Policeman: Yes it is. Goodbye.

It is also interesting (I hope...) to point out that in Africa, you tend to do something only if it will benefit you, charity was, to many, an alien concept. The word agenda cropped up over and over.

“What is your agenda? What do you get out of this? How much are you being paid?” Etc.
Or equally often, one that I never quite understood and made me feel awkward that came from pretty well 
educated men;
“You can’t be doing this for free. No way. A black man could/would never do that.”
This is partially true, not because of the colour of his skin, but because of the lack of money, opportunity and resource I have been so blessed with.

Ive got very few photos of people

As some of you may have noticed from the photo albums I have taken very few photographs of people. Now this is a real shame I know, but I find something very awkward and wrong about snapping away at people they’re aliens. It, I think, only encourages this zoo mentality I came across along the way. The “we’re so different”, the “me” and the “you”. How could I get tetchy when treated like an animal, if I was rolling along taking photos of the people there, I feel like it puts a barrier between us. I am more than sure they would have obliged (in fact a few pockets through Rwanda the children no longer said money or chocolate, but “Cam-er-a! Cam-er-a!!). Also, when you are trying to stay inconspicuous it draws attention, and I really don’t think it’s really fair to be flashing around a piece of kit that the people there could barely even dream of.

Ive got more camping tips. For the lads. (Source: Opta)

Duct tape is phenemoenal. Sticky.
Cable ties are even better. Handy.
When low on water and brushing teeth, spit the water you use to swill onto the head of toothbrush to clean it. Resourceful.
Where there are people there is water. Quenched.
Two sides to a pillow, sit constantly on one side, saves sleeping face first in a pile of dust. Comfortable.
When your cap is so saturated with sweat that a stream is running off the peak, flip reverse it, use the back as a sweat band and by the time you have saturated the back a little of the front will be dry again. Reverse procedure. Repeat.
When your hands are so covered in grease and dirt, and normal soap won’t work. Open that sugar tin (this is from my marqueeing days). A spoonful of sugar helps the mud go down the sink (there are no sinks.) Sweet.

Right. So when I stared today I wanted to do a ‘General Observations’ section then I wanted to cover Tanzania (I have LOVED IT, the people were awesome, remote, exciting, return of wildlife, more, more, more) but as seeing as I have rambled along observing a lot of generalities. Tanzania will have to wait. For your sakes, and mine (there is now a pool of sweat on my shorts, from my forehead, so large that looks like I have had an accident.)

Today then, I will try and break everything down and just give some sort of bullet point style observations I have made over the last couple of months. Obviously some parts are ‘general’isations and don’t apply to other areas. But a lot of these things are common to many parts of the Africas I have travelled through. Prepare for some serious sub-titleage. Fortunately thanks to this subtitelage, you can drop it and come back to it whenever, quite long.

Religion

You cannot cycle through Africa and not notice or comment on Religion. Having studied it I should, technically, be in a position of prior understanding. Unfortunately my memory is crap and I remember barely anything from our ‘African Christianity’ module. So I am as freshly blind as anyone else.

The time I noticed a change was when I entered Zambia from Botswana. I was suddenly in Christian country, the kind of Christian crazy Africa you read about or that I saw in Ghana.

The shops/busses/taxis/‘combis’(Combis are the most common type of (public) transport and are all over Africa. Little mini vans that shoot along the roads like rockets). Suddenly changed from having slogans across the windscreen that said “trust me” with a picture of Ashley Cole in an Arsenal shirt, (one of the most untrustworthy sights on earth) in Namibia and Botswana, to “God is Great”, “Trust in God”, “Driven by God” (love that one), “Bit by Bit”, “God Protected”, “One more Try”, “Joy”, “Keep Going”, “Hard times don’t last”, “Blessings”, “it hurts from laughing”, to name just a tiny few of the hundreds and hundreds of names I have seen (I have kept an eye out for a stenciling shop. I need to get Lady Love printed on. We fit in so well!).

Now, whether this change in religion and attitude demonstrated by the combis, from trusting “me” to trusting “God” was the reason that everyone from Zambia, through Zim, Moz, Malawi, (You will see the difference in Tanzania in a minute…) were all so much friendlier than those in Namibia and Botswana I am not sure. But I suspect that there must be a strong link.

Now, I don’t want to get into an argument about the positive effects and damaging ones of missionary work etc in Africa, and fortunately I don’t have to because I am on my own in an internet café. But, I do think that religious countries, Islamic and Christian, (yes, perhaps damaged/different/ ‘ruined’ to how they may have been without imposed foreign religion) have tended to me much more welcoming and friendly. Let’s drop it now. I feel like I’m writing an essay.

Despite having my phone, I rarely know what day of the week it is. There is only one clue that I ever get. It is so obvious when it’s a Sunday, as I’m cycling along the roads are full of people dressed to the nines, as opposed to the scraggly t-shirts/football shirts they may otherwise be wearing. Walking, walking, walking, - to their church.

There are so many different denominations and churches here, and that denomination is very very important. As I struggle to explain to new friends, that “surely it doesn’t matter which church I belong to if I believe in Jesus?” Falls on deaf ears. “Yes. But what church do you belong to?”

The other thing that I have noticed about churches, and this comes from cycling past them (there are SO many. Some, great big stone buildings surrounded by mudhuts, other whitewashed giants amongst thatched houses, others just mud huts themselves. Every size, shape, budget, and name. “The living waters” Church is a fave of mine.) whilst the service is in full flow – the congregation are so expressive and celebratory. Everyone is boogying on down. Once, I saw three people just dancing in front of the congregation. Everyone sitting patiently and watching. Can you imagine the alter boys in Ampleforth Abbey, breaking it down infront of 800 people?! (‘God’ that would be funny) It is something so unique to Africans this expressiveness. (Just as I cycled here this morning I went past a running race in a park. Once one guy-unbelievably rapid- had won the race and his supporters went wild. But instead of storming the track like us Zungus would, they all started doing different dances (Think Smash Williams more than Daniel Sturridge) and all sorts of different whoopps and noises. Hilarious and so great. N.B. Burundi is the first place I have seen people jogging for exercise. Curious.

Wow, that was meant to be a bullet point. I’ll stop now. Islam and Tanzanian Combis and trucks will be covered next week. What joy for you all.

Style

Style is immensely important over here. Tribesmen look incredible in their Masai get up, Church going ladies look amazing with their ridiculous (fake) hairstyles, the lads look pretty cool just hanging around, in Burundi the rock sunglasses.

However. Lack of money and the poverty that is found all across many parts of Africa, means that there are only a few options to work with. These mainly consist of sloganned T shirts (NO BATTERIES REQUIRED! Back off, I make my own rules! I’m the boss around here! Etc.), donated t-shirts (Real men think pink! Fight Breast Cancer. Leinster GAA. Etc.), and football shirts (mainly Arsenal, Chelsea, Utd, Liverpool, Real and Barca. Surprisingly and refreshingly not so many City shirts yet. Predictably and depressingly only 2 Spurs shirts so far. I have hugged both of them. They didn’t even realize they were wearing a Tottenham shit.)

My favourite guys are those wearing Father Christmas hats! Hilarious. I also always laugh when I see a big Momma of a family (these women work SO unbelievably hard, constantly with what I have dubbed ‘Rucksack Babes’-always comatose-strapped onto their backs.) ‘, otherwise immaculately dressed with a beautiful sarong or jewellery wearing a Wayne Rooney Manchester United Shirt along with a Chelsea beanie hat.

The assortment of caps are incredible, some really well sun faded ones (anyone a wearer of caps like me, knows the value of a decent fitting, faded cap. I have picked up quite a nice High School Musical one, although sadly - not quite big enough and the wind blows it off when I am cycling.)

My favourite shirt was worn by another Big Momma in Mozambique. She was, when I saw her, bossing someone – barking some order at a daughter. On her T – Shirt it said “Wanna go twos on a Bastard?” What this means, I will never know. I have spent hours (I have time) trying to work it out chuckling away, and although I have come up with a few of options. They only fit at a stretch (pun intended).  

Crop Shop

I have tried my hardest to try absolutely everything along the road in terms of food. Every day or two the main crop or thing for sale will change, depending on the area, often changing many times within a day. I wanted to list everything but just started doing it and it would be too long and too bloody boring. My favourite things though are Mandasi – which are little deepfried dough balls (doughnuts essentially), in Malawi I was working through about 12 a day. I put on weight. I am now snacking along on Chai and Chappatti, sugar cane (which you chew and suck, then spit out – delish), bananas, avocados the size of ostrich eggs (I keep my salt and teaspoon at the top of my bag, at the ready), bananas, greens (not vegetables but what I have nicknamed greens = green oranges that are definitely not limes). My favourite lunchtime snacks are my African Fajitas = Chapatti and Avo, and Banana Pancakes = Chapatti and bananna.

I have also tried every single local Lager I have found. A bit like Gavin and Smithy, I have (mentally) graded every single one. I think next week, I might publish my review… Mentally, it is hilarious. On paper (screen?), probably less so. So far the Namibian Windhoek my favourite. So. Damn. Tasty.

Drugs and Bugs

I did 71 days sans (I’m just so linguistic) injury or illness. Unforyuinately within 5 days of each other both struck. Badly. The good thing about being ill is that you get to moan and attention seek. It sucks when you’re on your own.

Having boasted to you all about tap water, Tanzania has not been so easy, so I have bought a lot of bottled water here, so it must have been one of three Chipsi (chip omlette, another fave) that I had had that day. Let’s leave it at - I was very unwell (my chance to moan and attention seek. Very unwell.), cycling not fun. Had to dash to bushes a few times. Thank God unpopulated area. Had to hitch as too sore and dangerous. Hitching on a bumpy road. Not good. Day off. Antibiotics. better.

A few days before that my knee went. Now pedaling with a limp (which must be funny to see), my poor right leg is taking on a lot more exercise than it expected. With a few exercises emailed through to me from my Sis, and Ibuprofen things are feeling a bit better – I think though, I will be carrying this injury for the final two weeks. Quadriceps Tendonitis, “comes from repetitive use” ah yes, repetitive use.

Otherwise, physically I have been pretty sound- the distances has have definitely become easier, I go faster, and I am not so stiff. What I still struggle with, despite being very happy and finally used to everything else (injuries,. Breakages, etc. etc.) is the fact that time is always so precious. Very little time to relax.  If I have a puncture when I wake up and lose an hour, I lose 20km. The fact that an hour equals 20ks is actually quite a lot.

In terms of cycling conditions it is like a daily game of rock paper scissors (or as this spellchecker would have me write – Rock, Paper, Stone. Eugh). Gravity, Wind, Road. (Energy is an occasional extra variable). Each having their different powers and in different combinations can prove bliss, or fatal. Wind being the most powerful, however if you’re on a hilly day it’s not so evil (I’m shielded on the way up the hill, gravity helping me on the way down). Gravity is great, uphills are hard work but worth it for the beautiful views and the even more beautiful downhills, but if the road is bad up and down become hell. Wind on the flat very difficult, but at least it doesn’t matter what the road is like so much. Etc. Etc. Etc.

My average speed is 20kmph. On a really good day is around 23km/h, on a bad day around 17km/h, occasionally (2 days ago) as low as 14 – A Rahzel - road and gravity and wind – AT THE SAME TIME. Thankfully no longer as I don’t need him any more (sorry Jez), in the early slow days – on Namibian dirt roads - if I was ever setting a pace above 20 and getting over excited at the prospect of a good day, I had Jeremy floating along beside me keeping me calm. “Always sub 20 Mate, always sub 20.” As inevitably I would turn a corner and the road would become more of a geographical rock phenomenon than man made path. Poor poor Ivan.

Language

I think it very important to comment on the language. I have tried my hardest to learn the languages, (well, hellos and thank yous) and when I have managed it really pays dividends. However it has been pretty hard in some places, mainly because I’m very unlinguistic (lol), because you can pass through 3 dialects in a day, because I have about a million different similar sounding place names plus the previous 7 countries hellos and thank yous whirring round my head. I didn’t manage to get it at all for Mozambique and struggled in Malawi. But my Swahili is pretty top notch, my favourite trait is the 'i' (pronounced ee) they throw on the end of everything. Makes everything sound so cute. Massive cudos in Burundi, they love that I can say, Amahorro (hello) and uracozé (thank you), remembered by me as I’m a horror and you’re a cozy (tea?). I have loved speaking French in Burundi, if anyone wants to practice their French come here! No judgment from people on my accent or lack of vocab, we are all as bad as each other! The perfect place to practice.

A couple of other words I have picked up:
Ewieh: YOU! (Malawi, Tanzania, Burundi) Ocsecnarf should appreciate that.
Zuuuuungooooooo: White Man. (Malawi onwards)
Pila: Money. (Kiswahili)

As a sub category of the sub category of language; conversations.

People love to watch. I wouldn’t call it staring, its definitely watching. Theres a Zungyu eating a banana. Lets watch him. Theres a Zungu, checking his brakes. Lets watch him. Theres a Zunbgu having a pee. Lets watch him. I have very very little privacy.

There are also certain typical conversations I can now predict what I am about to have every time I am stopped for a chat (if I sounded grumpy last blog, I have never once ignored someone when they ask me to stop, which is A LOT, I am very polite and friendly, even if I am a little big exasperated.)

If I manage to explain what I am doing, or how far I have come and it is understood, (this is rare), I am met with a eeeeeeeeeeahhh. Ooooaaaahheeee. Yeeeeeach. I can do a very good impression of this Africaniversal exclamation of surprise/shock/disbelief – I really want to try it out but don’t want to risk offending anyone.

Most of the time however people don’t understand me or don’t believe me:

“Yes but where are you?”
“I am here, but if you mean where am I going. I go Nairobi.”
“In Plane.”
“No on Bicycle” (pronounced in Swahili, Bye - sea – Ceilidh)
“Yes, plane.”
“No – byeseaceilidh”
“Plane.”
“OK Plane.”

Or

M-Zuuungooo:“Do you know how many kilometers to next town?” (never EVER trust, let yourself hope,  or even for a second believe the answer. Can lead to extreme demoralisation and is never right. I just use it as a conversation continuer)
Friend 1: “2”
M-Zuuungooo : “Really? I’m sure.”
A crowd has now gathered, all watching.
Friend 2 : “6”
Friend 3: “My friend, my friend, where you come to?”
M-Zuuungooo: “Today or in life?”
Friend 3: “Yes, I am fine.”
Friend 2: “6. MZungu - how are fine?”
M-Zuuungooo: “Well, as I was just telling your friend who is standing right next to us (I actually say thing like this) I’m good, how are you?”
Friend 2: “Fine and you?”
M-Zuuungooo : “Well, as I mentioned before I’m good.”
Friend 2: “Fine, and you?”

And so on. As friend 4 takes up the reigns.

Camping tips. For the lads.
When making coffee (essential to my day) in the morning use extra (if available) water to use to wash up porridge.
Take out tent (where possible) at lunch to dry off dew.
2 pots are better than 1.
Stainless steel (NJRM) bends into any container.
Leg razors on the face don’t give you a rash like overpriced fusion. Texted twice. Think this could reenergize my shaving career.
Sleep with head at top of the slope.
Pillow cases are important.
Don’t get into tent whilst head torch still on. Bugs and mosquitoes will follow the leader leader..

If you have made it this far – WELL DONE!

I just want to finish by saying a massive congratulations to the Sierra Leone marathon runners! The WYCF team absolutely bossed it and you should definitely consider donating!! Although, they have raised way more money than I have so “gimme money” first. AWESOME GUYS!

Secondly I want to say a big big thank you to Henry’s Shoes. They have provided me with massive support the whole way through my trip, sending me hilarious emails constantly (he also has time.) and financially supporting me as well. Please check out their website, for those of you who started your own businesses, you know how important the first few months can be. Although Hen and I disagree on many things (everything), especially fashion. Finally we have something we can both really like.

Post Swift: Again, any missing Us or rogue Zs instead of Ss. - American auto correct. Je n’aime pas.