THE DEPARTURE

I always wanted to play music - at first the drums, but my parents didn't take me seriously. They bought me a chromatic harmonica which I found confusing. My brother Dave had a guitar which we never managed to tune. For a while we had a piano in the corner of the games room. This was a great fascination to me and I thundered away until it was considered superfluous and removed. I stumbled through my education with the usual teenage distractions achieving mediocre O levels and A levels and scraping a place to study architecture at Brighton polytechnic. I thought I might find time to learn the bass guitar at college but I never settled into the student life enough to consider such extracurricular activities. I had to escape.

ההמראה

I returned for the third term but could not settle. Too many problems and too few solutions. I took out my 300 pound overdraft allowance and set off for Israel. This was an impulsive decision. I booked a flight and set off for London. I arrived at the airport and waited for my flight. An innocent not yet abroad. A scruffy youngster must have looked conspicuous. A well dressed lady approached me. She showed me her police card and asked me where I was going. I explained I was headed for Israel to go to a kibbutz where a friend was staying. She questioned why, being a student, I was not still in college at this time of year. I said I had finished early. She seemed satisfied with my coherent answers but as she inspected my passport she noticed that I had only two months left until it expired. To travel to Israel I was required have at least six months. Having concluded that I was not totally dodgy she said she could help me as there was a group of kibbutz volunteers travelling on the same flight and maybe their co-ordinator could help reschedule my flight so that I would have time to renew my passport. I would have to go to Petty France in central London and queue up all day to get my passport renewed there and then. The kibbutz co-ordinator said he could reschedule my flight to depart in three days time. I kipped in the airport chapel. Throughout the night pilots came in to pray.

le départ

I went to Petty France, did the queuing and got the renewal. Back to Gatwick for another night in the chapel. Then at last on the aeroplane to Israel. Kosher food was served in a plastic tray. I arrived at Tel Aviv airport and descended into the heat. Now to find my way to the Golan heights. Without too much difficulty I found the bus out of the town and into the dry hills of Israel. I made it to a small town on route to my destination where I booked into a hostel for the night. The next day I made it to the kibbutz by lunch time. I wandered around and asked where I might find my friend Ben. He was out for the day. A companion invited me in to his place for a tea and a smoke on his home made bong. As the hash permeated my being he turned up the volume of 'holiday' by the Scorpions - a poignant moment. After chillin for a while I went to see if Ben had arrived back at his residence. Each resident had a small apartment in a long single storey block. A neighbour said he was probably still at the dining hall after returning from the day trip. I headed for the dining hall. Ben was coming the other way. He had not heard that I had arrived. An astonished look came upon him and he staggered in disbelief as we approached one another. He said he was so surprised to see me that a blue aura appeared around me. Ben had dropped out of university and then taken time to organise his trip to Israel whereas I had absconded in a reckless fashion. Maybe I disrupted his rehabilitation.

الرحیل

I was allowed, like Ben, to become a kibbutz volunteer. We shared the accommodation and fulfilled our obligations. We worked on the fish farm. Rising each day before dawn we trundled up the mountain roads past rocky desert hillsides. We waded into the fish ponds and dragged our nets along. Then up and out with hundreds of fish. Another pond or two and we would have our required five hundred or so fish. Breakfast was plenty of eggs, bread and strong coffee. The rest of the day we spent scaling, gutting and packing the poor things. One day our sturdy boss retrieved a large tortoise from the catch. He showed us the marvellous beast with a look of wonder. As we gazed at the creature he violently threw it to the ground. This pest had to be killed or it would be stealing our fish!

ل بناني

Sometimes there would be large shrimps in the catch. These we would take home and barbecue. Delicious! While we were not working we took great fascination in a book entitled 'How to work your way around the world'. This fuelled our fantasies of great travels to come - fruit picking in California, deep sea fishing in Alaska, sailing in the Mediterranean. Life was ok on the kibbutz - the food was good and we earned a little pocket money, but we needed more cash for the next leg of the journey. Nearby was a moshav. The kibbutz was a community whereas the moshav was a co-operative so we could earn money. Off we went in search of paid work and we found it. Four shekels an hour wasn't bad and we had our own little house to live in. A room each, a living room and a kitchen. Amran treated us with the kindly attitude of a boss profiting from his employees labour. We worked in the banana groves. Once again we arose in the cold night air and after a tractor ride and a breakfast of strong coffee and pastries began work at daybreak.

la foriro

Bananas do not grow on trees but on large perennial pseudotrunks. Each year a new plant sprouts up next to last years rotting remains. The original plantation lines meandered this way and that and the plants shed mountains of leaves. Our job was to uncover the irrigation pipes before they became lost and blocked and tidy the leaves into piles along the wandering lines. We worked from five in the morning till midday by which time the heat was becoming unbearable. We consumed a five litre flagon of water each throughout the morning. One day we only took five litres between us and by midday were becoming delirious.

la salida

In the evenings we made a fire outside and other moshav workers came around to socialise. These were more seasoned travellers than the kibbutz volunteers. A South American who had walked through the jungle for a week following the power lines to reach America. Two hairy bikers from Miami. A wonderful classical guitarist from England who felt his virtuoso recitals were merely robotic. From the nearby dormant army base the security guard came to visit. With his long dark curly hair, beard, small stature and gentle manner he was not what one expected. As a member of a kibbutz he was required to serve one month a year in military service. He had been given the pacifist's option of guarding the inactive base. Each week he would receive his food rations of eggs, tins of meat, and plenty of vegetables. Being a vegan he passed the eggs and meat on to us. This helped us save on our meagre wages. Arriving home after work we relaxed with some drumming. I played a bass beat on the large old fashioned fridge and Ben took the knives to add the frills on various kitchen furnishings. Dressed only in our shorts we sweated into a tribal rhythm. Ben made a recording on his cheap radio cassette. He played it back to Etan, the guard, who was a guitarist. He thought we had created something quite special and beyond our own understanding. We listened to a recording of him and his tutor. Technically accomplished and well within his understanding.

η αναχώρηση

We continued to work in the banana groves but our spacious accommodation was compromised when three Israeli girls moved in. They took the two bedrooms and we had to move into the living room. The bedrooms had doors that closed tightly and netting over the windows to prevent the mosquitoes invading. The living room had no netting over the windows and an open doorway into the entrance hall. Each night a multitude of the little bloodsuckers would fly in to make our life hell. We would try to kill them off before we went to bed but to no avail as more would soon arrive. After a while in bed we would wake up itching from bites all over. A cold shower stopped the itching for a while. Some nights I would take several. At least we had this recourse.

kalkış

We worked about eight weeks, plenty of hours and saved up a stack of shekels. Nobody wanted shekels outside of Israel so we had to take them down to Jerusalem to get them changed into dollars. With four hundred dollars each we were ready for the next step. I wanted to continue alone and Ben decided to return to England. I took a boat for Greece. Three days at sea gave me time to make a friend along the way though we parted company on arrival in the port of Athens. Wandering towards the town many young travellers working as promoters for local hostels were keen to attract the new arrivals back to their employers' establishments. I walked on until I came to a cinema frontage where they paused undercover between their forays. Here I chatted in a more relaxed way with the crowd of 'runners'. Now on a more friendly level an English worker asked if I would like to go halves on a bottle of ouzo. I was enticed and we enjoyed the clear spirit as the evening descended. In the darkness we wandered back to the hostel.

kisalistli

I awoke in my sleeping bag in the courtyard. I gazed up the walls towards the sky. As I assessed my situation a familiar face popped out of a window on the second floor. My drinking companion wished me a good morning. Gathering my senses I returned the greeting. He threw down a book and retreated back through his window. The cover showed an old red Indian's face below a rainbow and clouds and flowers to the sides. Inset over the left eye a square frame showed the eye slightly enlarged with the blurred figure of a blond man emerging from the eye. Carlos Castaneda's Separate Reality was new to me. The morning sun hit my spot as I began the story of Casteneda's apprenticeship in the ways of the Yaqui Indian. His disciplined anthropological study combined with some seriously hallucinogenic drugs make a heady cocktail. I read for a while before venturing out to explore.

exitum

Athens was a grimy city built on a hilly landscape. I treated myself to an oily Greek salad. Wandering through the mishmash of architectures I came across a ruined Roman theatre where a contemporary dance company were rehearsing. I settled myself on the perimeter and enjoyed the extraneous culture. Intrigued by the study time passed more quickly than watching a strictly punctuated performance. After a good while I continued my stroll through the winding ways and back to the hostel. I spent a couple of days reading my fascinating book and heading out in different directions around the city. I had heard tales of travellers kipping in the ancient ruins of the Parthenon and decided to spend my last night in Athens at this sacred retreat of Socrates.

largimi

In the dark of the late evening I ventured up towards the site. A six foot high wooden fence surrounded the great temple. I vaulted over the obstacle and was soon sauntering up the steps to the great columns of the enormous structure. What a treat! Suddenly the dark silhouette of a large Alsatian came charging towards me. A rising growl warned of the fearsome fangs heading my way. I quickly turned tail and sped toward the barrier. My adrenalin flew me back over the fence. Landing safely I sighed relief. I found a place to bed down in the periphery. I slept well in the vicinity of the ancients. Rising early I headed to the port. Down south to the islands was the next leg.

die Abfahrt

The boats were already busy coming and going. I purchased my ticket to Paros. All sorts of people and goods hustled and bustled in and out of a variety of ships. A lively chaos entertained as I wondered where I might board the ferry. As the departure time approached I enquired as to which vessel I needed to take. Varying replies led me to a small craft and I walked aboard. Still feeling I had not passed through the necessary protocol I asked fellow passengers if this was indeed the keel for me. Yes I was Paros bound. As we journeyed through the beautifully blue water porpoises played alongside the hull. I decided I would sleep on the beach. Others chose the beach and some trust developed between us but a reluctance to knot possibly frayed shoe strings. A Frenchman told me that if one wanted to change, one should change ones mind not ones sky. I wondered why he was so far away from home. Another said he could not understand how anyone could travel without a camera.

ትሄ ደፓቱረ

Each day I would rise and head to the temperate waters. Swimming in the calm Mediterranean left me crusty with salt. I wandered inland and rested under a fig tree. I decided to head to the smaller isle of Antiparos. A short boat journey took me to the hippy island. By the nudist beach I found a little bamboo shack. In the neighbouring shack were an old English guy and his younger companion. The young guy said he had played the drums with Bob Marley. My lack of astonishment at his claim irked him and he insisted it was the truth. In the morning sunlight a couple openly had sex on the beach. I tired of touristic culture and set off for Crete.

avresan

On the larger island there was more than just holiday makers. After arriving at Heraklion I journeyed to the west in search of work fruit picking. In Rethymnon lots of people were sleeping on the beach. Many were working on building sites. I heard there was work picking grapes to the south west. I set off into rural hills. Arriving at a small village where I believed there to be work I entered a rustic cafe and sat down for a coffee. Away from the coast the numbers of tourists decreased. Here one found time and space to communicate with local people. An old man enquired what I was looking for in the area. Though he spoke no English his gestures conveyed his meaning. Off the beaten track I found the road less travelled. He explained to me that nearby lived a German. Behind a house in an outbuilding I found the long blonde haired fella in his basic residence. He was friendly and said there was agricultural work to be found locally. I could stay on the spare bed in his spacious abode. We drank a bit of wine and ate produce from his garden. The following day I explored the locality. The second nite we once again drank wine and chatted. He offered me a blow job and I declined.

afgang

Having found no work I headed back to Rethymnon. The construction workers occupied the centre of the beach. I found a shady spot in the trees at the end of the beach with other budget travellers - a couple of Scottish girls and an English guy. The guy had been looking for his sister but had missed her due to stilted communication. The boats for Egypt left every eight days from Heraklion. I was considering catching the next one. The English guy said he would like to come, but couldn't make the next boat in a couple of days time because he was waiting for some money to come through. He knew where to find work in the south of Crete where he had been travelling previously. We headed down to the village and entered the cafe on the square. We enquired about employment. The proprietor said he would give us a day's work tomorrow.

odjazd

We loaded the wheelbarrow on the back of the donkey and headed up a steep track. The donkey farting regularly as we followed behind and the old man whipping him with a willowy branch. When we arrived at a small field our job was to disassemble a low stone wall, load it into the wheelbarrow, transport it two hundred yards and rebuild it. Carefully moving the uncemented stones we collected the snails nestled between them. By the time we had finished the installation we had a bucket full of the slimy crustations. Not sure why the wall had to be moved and wondering whether it was solely to collect the arthropods we descended to the bar. A stew of mysterious meat was served and a bottle of Retsina. Though no cash was offered we decided not to quibble with our benefactor who undoubtedly held a locally influential position. The next day we were offered paid employment cleaning under the olive trees in preparation for nets to be laid which would catch the ripe fruit shaken down from the trees.

出発

We slept on the uncompleted ground floor of a house enclosed by only concrete supports. Rising with the dawn we crossed the road to the bosses house where breakfast was served. Three fried eggs floating in a bowl of olive oil and a bottle of beer. We agreed on fifteen hundred drachmas a day. We drove down to the olive groves in the pick up truck where we cleared the stones and broken branches from under the trees with heavy hoes. After half an hour our stocky boss called a break. From his flask he poured us each a small glass of raki. It would be impolite to refuse. Every forty minutes or so the glasses were refilled. By the end of the intensive morning shift we were well oiled and it was back to the bosses place for a copious lunch with a few beers and then to the bar to spend our wages. Another Retsina and the day dissolved into incoherence and an eventual retreat to our concrete temple.

die vertrek

A few days of the same and our newly found friendship became strained. I woke in the morning and my companion was gone. I struggled to remember the argument to no avail. I continued the work and the boss and his wife allowed me to stay on their balcony. A couple more days and I set off for the ferry to Egypt. I arrived at Heraklion a day early and decided I would sleep out somewhere on the edge of town. As I wandered around I met four young Polish travellers. They had found a place to sleep up on the city walls and invited me to come along with them. We made our way up there and rolled out our beds. They brought out a bottle of Polish vodka and we passed it around each drinking a cap full. We discussed the existence of God. Another bottle of Vodka. The philosophy petered out and sleep descended. The next day I caught the ferry.

kuondoka

The journey took twenty four hours and the ticket included a cabin. After my purchase I was left with a hundred and fifty dollars which I had heard was the requirement to enter Egypt. On the boat I met three Swedes, a guy, his girlfriend and her friend. The girlfriend was outgoing and cheerful, the boyfriend a bit moody and the other girl very quiet. We got to talking about what the availability and legality of cannabis might be like in Egypt. The guy said he'd had enough of cannabis and wouldn't want any. His girlfriend said she might be tempted. The other girl kept quiet. I acquiesced. We arrived at Alexandria and descended into the hustle and bustle. Locals seated on the ground eating fried fish from straw mats invited us to join them. I accepted but my Swedish companions disapproved. I retreated to their company. They wished to maintain a certain standard. I was considering finding the cheapest accommodation available but they were looking for something decent. For a while we would stick together. They booked a room for three in a nice hotel. I tagged along as an extra. A cockroach ran across the floor. The next day we moved somewhere a bit more basic. After all his anti pot argument the guy suddenly had a lump of hash and we were all smoking joints. We wandered the town in our dream and encountered a small group of orthodox Christians. All male and all dressed in white shirts and black trousers. In this predominantly Muslim country they saw us as potential allies. Seated for dinner in our stoned state the situation struck me as very weird. One of the fellas leant towards me and said 'Peter, what do you think about fucking?' Shocked, I replied 'It 's ok'. Getting to the point in his rather direct way he continued 'Peter, what do you think about fucking before marriage?'. Again I thought it was ok. He seemed pretty preoccupied about the matter and being an orthodox Christian probably considered our two blonde Swedish, nominally Christian companions as potential material for prompt marriage and fucking.

вылет

The outgoing girl returned from the toilet looking noticeably flustered. She confided to her boyfriend who then explained to me that as she left the toilet one of these characters dropped his trousers in front of her. We made our excuses and returned to our hotel to smoke a few more spliffs. Eventually I retracted myself from the well heeled Swedish company and took the third class train for Cairo. The train was packed with traditionally attired natives carrying all sorts of goods, wares and luggage. I was the only European. The wind blew through the open windows as the train rattled down the track. Approaching Cairo we passed through miles of mud hut suburbia. The Nile delta has attracted millions since the natural flood cycle of the river was destroyed by the construction of the Aswan dam. We arrived at the sophisticated metropolis. Dust swirled around the construction of the new underground system in the centre of town. Barefoot youths in jellabas hacked away at the dirt. Cars swerved in all directions, persistently honking their horns to warn the crowds. I hunted down the tourist information office. Still quiet at this early hour I had the full attention of the assistant. I asked where the cheapest available hotel might be. He informed me of several economic options. I felt there must be something cheaper, more in line with my frugality. He admitted there was one place, The Oxford Hotel, but I probably wouldn't want to go there. Oh, yes I did. This was the essential traveller's option. Here I found companions with existential doubts like me. I was given a copy of Philip K Dick's psychedelic virtual reality trip "The three stigmata of Palmer Eldritch". I shared a room with two blokes. One had been travelling in the Sinai and buried his passport in the sand for safety. Later he could not find it. He had come to Cairo to get a new one. We scored some grass. After a smoke we went out for a breakfast of Kushari- a base of pasta with one layer of rice, another of lentils, another of chick peas and topped with fried onions. Served in a metal bowl with the option of a dressing of oil, spicy or plain, at the table.

буцах

I wandered into the entertaining chaos of Cairo. The best shaves I've ever had were with a cut throat by the street side barbers at a penny a time. For hours I would meander, taking in the architecture, customs and quirks. Tired of walking I would ask which bus would take me to my domicile and hang on the side with the locals. In the evening we would relax at the hotel with a two percent Egyptian Stella. Finding myself at ease I continued with this pattern for days. I caught the bus to the edge of the city to visit the pyramids. Arriving in the late afternoon I circled the great structures. Of the two larger pyramids one could be entered at a price. These were heavily guarded by armed police. The third smaller and less impressive pyramid, adjacent to the desert, had a less smooth finish. The stepped ascent rising in blocks just under a meter square. This was the one to climb later. I retreated to the cafeteria. There were my Swedish friends. I joined them for refreshments. As darkness descended the light and sound show began. The pyramids and Sphinx were illuminated by an array of colour as a musical commentary explained their great history. The spectacle finished. I wished them farewell and returned to my mission. I approached the pyramid of the benevolent pharaoh Menkaure. The lights still illuminated one side of the structure. Heading into the shadow I was beckoned by a call. An obscure figure seated on the dark side of the pyramid. A black Arab attired in black jellaba and head dress. 'You want to climb?' 'Yes' I replied. 'You have money?' 'No' I replied. He asked me to come and sit down. I accepted. He explained that it was his job to wait for the lights to go out and close their shutters. He had done this job for many years. Many times people had paid him for the privilege to climb. An American once gave him a hundred dollar bill. The lights went out. He closed the shutters. He said I could climb if I wanted, but keep my head down. He departed and I sneaked up. I popped my head up at the top to see the view towards town and then swiftly descended.

te wehenga atu

Safely down I strolled towards the desert. Three camels with riders issued forth joyous laughter. As I neared I could see that two camels had two riders and the other only one. The single rider called to me. I approached and she invited me to mount. We enjoyed a bumpy ride in the dark barren landscape. We descended and the feisty Australian girls argued a price with the two Arabs. They invited me back to the Sheraton for a drink. Sat in the ornate beer garden our relationship took on a different perspective. I decided to head home. Walking into the late night city a taxi pulled over. I explained my lack of finance. He said it was not important he would give me a lift home anyway. A rat scarpered from my path as I entered the Oxford. The cockroaches scuttled away as I climbed the stairs. My bed welcomed me to sleep.

出发

Small western style saloon doors discreetly indicated the clandestine brandy bars between the shops and cafes. On my morning stroll I decided to imbibe. A little paper sealed bottle and a side of hot beans. The subculture of pleasure permeated my soul. I would move on down the country. A third class ticket was required. The next morning I went to the station and asked for my statutory entitlement. I was directed to the tourist counter where they endeavoured to sell me a more expensive ticket for the posh train. I returned to the tertiary window where they once again told me I was in the wrong place. Eventually they sold me the third class ticket. The train, a rickety locomotive with wooden benches and full to overflowing, was a few hours late. Again I took my role as the only European. The other passengers gave me kindly smiles. As the evening drew in I climbed up onto the large luggage rack and made my bed. I stayed up there the rest of the three day journey to Aswan. The ticket inspector complained but the Egyptian passengers rebuffed him and told him to leave me alone.

ymadawiad

I booked into a hostel and heavy rains came. I began to read "The Bone People" by Keri Hulme. In Aswan the Nile flows out of the long and winding Lake Nasser. I took my place in the crowd waiting for the boat to Wadi Haifa in the Sudan. As the delay stretched into hours an army general stood with authority in front of the awaiting ferry. He announced that nobody would be taking this journey and that we may as well all go away. I turned to the two Americans whom I had befriended. We shared a concerned look but as we turned to confer with the majority of Egyptian students their jovial smiles inferred there was no real need to worry. After a short while the general once again announced that our wait was futile. Nobody budged. The general and his entourage made an ostentatious departure and we all boarded. Once aboard the folk set down their straw mats and began to dine. I was pleased to accept their invitation to join them. A variety of tasty dishes were shared. They explained that they used to make little fires to cook but one of the boats burnt down and fires were now disallowed.

irteera

After the late lunch it was time for prayer. All kneeled towards Mecca and touched their heads to the floor as the imam recited verses. I politely observed. Maybe sometimes I prayed. Prayer was conducted five times during the twenty four hours. We slept on the deck. In the middle of the night we were again roused to pray. Now awake I realised the boat was at a stand still. I took a walk around the ship. Afloat in the starlit waters the captain lay asleep next to his cabin. I backtracked to my spot on the floor and resumed my slumber. We woke in the morning to pray. Arriving in the small settlement of Wadi Haifa the train awaited us. A young Sudanese man offered his assistance. Elegantly dressed in a clean all white jellaba and head dress his manner was most courteous. He led me to a stall where I bought a small bowl of set rice pudding and a cup of tea. I enquired where I could change money to buy a ticket for the train. He told me if I travelled on the roof of the train I would need no ticket. He gestured toward the train where people were clambering onto the roof with their luggage. Excellent! My mind was made up.

заминаването

I climbed aboard the hot roof. Burning until you sat down and relieved your spot from the baking sun. But all around remained scorching. The roof crowded with young Sudanese and Egyptians we set off into the desert. It wasn't long before the train paused close to a small settlement. The locals scurried over with drinking water. For a small fee we were replenished. My fellow roof travellers insisted on paying. The train made many stops. Flatbreads filled with beans were served. Sometimes the vendors came over the dusty horizon from distant villages. Others were living in old train carriages parked up adjacent to the railway. While the train stopped some descended to pray. Many waited until the train slowly chugged into action before jogging alongside and skipping back aboard. As the locomotive gathered speed one devotee decided to humour the elevated crowd with a final prayer. He kneeled down and placed his forehead on the sand as the train accelerated. Jumping up he ran faster to keep up. We laughed as he once again dropped down for another last prayer. He leaped up with a brow of sand and sprinted to hop for a handhold. He gasped a sigh of relief as he safely rejoined.

plecarea

The heat continued to be intense even with the breeze from the movement of the train. I placed a T-shirt over my head. A sandstorm blew up. I pulled the T-shirt down over my face. Remaining static as we charged into the turbulence I wondered how long before it passed. As the air cleared the guys next to me rolled a reefer. They passed it along and I mused on my situation. The landscape was purely open desert only punctuated by the water sellers gathering or a lone Bedouin in the distance. As the evening came we began to cool. The darkness brought a chill and the night became cold. I rolled out my carry mat and climbed into my sleeping bag. Most on the train top carried only the clothes they wore and simply endured the cold. I loaned my jersey to a neighbour. I slept well as we gained miles. The sun rose and the heat began. I packed away my kit and settled on my spot. As the hours passed I read my book about a conflictive loving relationship. I repaired some rips in my clothes. My fellow voyagers seemed content to ponder.

brottför

The next night the train stopped in the empty desert and we descended to sleep on the sand. Never had I seen the stars so bright. In the early morn the engines rumbled to call us aboard. We travelled alongside the Nile. Large amphorae cooled water by the river. At midday we stopped for a generous break at a medium sized settlement. Replenished we approached the train to ascend. Khaki clad police blocked our way as travelling on the roof was prohibited. I looked toward my luggage tied to the roof. My companions seemed unperturbed so I chose not to make a fuss. After standing their ground for a short while the police departed. The train began to move and we trotted alongside and jumped on, back into the wearing heat of the afternoon, the relaxing cool of the evening and the cold desert night. Early the next day we arrived at Khartoum. Our crowd dispersed. Walking into the town I hoped to find an English speaker. Of the tall light brown skinned inhabitants nobody spoke my language. At last I encountered a man who spoke my tongue. He was of another race. Shorter and much darker skinned from the South of the country he lacked a hand and his forearm ended roughly as though his limb had been torn away. He explained he had lost his hand in the civil war that was raging in the South. He was here in Khartoum helping amputees. I asked him if he knew a place where I could stay. He said he knew a student hostel on the other side of town. First he had to make a visit to the association of amputees to type a letter. He invited me to come along. I accepted.

an imeacht

We walked several miles across town to arrive at our destination. He introduced me to three amputees. They had been cross limbed for stealing small amounts. Their right hand and left foot had been cut off by prison executioners and they still suffered pain. He went to do his typing and left me to sit with the victims. We had no language in common. They offered me chewing tobacco. We chewed together. The Sudanese punctuate their conversation with clicks made by drawing air into the side of their mouths. The man I sat next to gave the odd click of resignation. The time passed. My companion returned. We wished the amputees farewell and set off to the student house. The basic hostel housed about a dozen young Sudanese and a few occidentals. A young American journalist had an ostensibly important mission. I preferred the company of a quiet Englishman and his Canadian girlfriend. We walked across the road to the officers’ club and ate plates of beans and drank coffee. The waiter was a cheerful soul. Here in Sudan the prohibition of alcohol was stricter and one saw no bars or any sale of liquor. After several visits to the officer's club and much jovial exchange with the waiter he invited us to stay after closing time as he had a treat for us. In the vacated garden the waiter placed a lump of compressed grass and pint bottle of moonshine on our table and departed with a smile. Surprised by the gift we slowly sampled the wares and eased ourselves into intoxication. Sharing memories of Blighty and a mutual taste in music we bonded. They had plans to journey to Oman. I considered heading to Kenya but was deterred by the civil war and diminishing funds. We were left a little worse for wear but ordered the same combo when the waiter invited us to a wedding reception a couple of days later. For a small price the order was obtained. The reception was a grand affair with an excellent buffet and a live band. The orchestra was truly professional. Their traditional Sudanese music was a beautiful blend of deeply African tribal rhythms overlaid with sumptuous Arabic harmonies. Only the men danced performing exotic ripples through their arms and shoulders as they stepped slowly to the beat. I entered the fray and tried to emulate their movements. Welcoming me into the dance the men demonstrated the moves. As their enthusiasm got frisky, I decided to retreat from the crowd. After the band played the sounds switched to disco. The lights flashed to the rhythm, the girls came onto the floor and a scene much like a European nightclub was created. In the imitation of our restrained culture I was safe to mingle.

tashi

The hangover was worse and with the intense heat I came down with a throat infection. I lay in the shade reluctant to move. Antibiotics were available at the chemist. I dosed myself up for a couple of days and managed to pull myself back to health. I decided to travel by truck to Port Sudan. We crowded in like cattle and trundled into the desert. We stopped in a small settlement and some locals invited me to stay with them. They took my clothes to wash and provided me with a white cotton jellaba to wear while I waited their return. Attired in this cool and comfortable garment resting on a simple bed in a plain room I felt far away from home. The next day we continued to Port Sudan. I found a youth hostel close to the beach. Not being a member I was allowed to stay three nights. A Frenchman carrying a bass guitar was heading for Djibouti. An independent country since 1977 still supporting a French foreign legion base and agitated by bandits. He suggested we could charter a fishing boat to make the journey along the coast of Ethiopia. We headed south of the city to a fishing village along the coast. The local fishermen said they would sell us a boat for a price we calculated to be about £30,000. Fortunately this made our potentially hazardous journey a distinct impossibility. We returned to the hostel where a travelling football team had booked in. In the relative cool of the evening they gathered on the hard flat beach with their ghetto blaster to bop to hip hop. I joined the dance and we worked up a sweat with some funky moves.

awọn ilọkuro

The barren beach stretched out to shallow still waters. In the distance was a shipwreck of a large metal boat. In the morning sun I ventured out. Walking almost a kilometre through the warm water I eventually swam the last short distance to the wreck. Long bright blue fishes darted in and out of the eerie mass. I climbed the skeleton in the expanse of blue. Carefully cleaving to the jagged form I looked for a safe space to jump back into the clear sea. From my lone venture I headed back to shore. The next day I took a journey along the coast to Lord Kitchener's house. Elegantly placed on the edge of a tranquil lagoon the imposing Victorian house stood in ruins surrounded by mud huts. Another day out took us to a small village in the desert where the inhabitants were proud to show off the local school. The prowess being due mainly to the large wooden shed where education took place - unusual amongst the otherwise primitive structures. The elders of the village carried large swords in ornate sheathes. We were invited to sit and drink coffee by the fire. Round clay coffee pots were placed in the embers to heat. Small shot size cups were filled with sugar and the spicy coffee poured over it. After the first sip only soggy sugar was left. The cups were refilled and a little more coffee drunk. Each time the sugar sank and the spiciness increased.

ọpụpụ

After my stay in the youth hostel I decided to relocate to the adjacent beach. Comfortably bedded down in the midst of the night I was abruptly awoken by the torches of a military patrol. I was not allowed to sleep in this restricted zone and was obliged to return to the youth hostel. The proprietor was not happy. The next day I searched for accommodation. The residential architecture of the city was an organic hotchpotch of simple white walls. Amongst the labyrinth I found a roofless enclosure with a couple of wicker beds. Imagining that no-one actually inhabited this rudimentary space I chose to make use of it. Late into the night two men returned to take their rest. I apologised for my presence and they rolled out a canvas on the floor and said I could kip down there. I continued my sleep. In the morning I politely departed. With diminishing funds I decided to head north. I walked down to the port where a ferryman rowed me across to the merchant ships. Hoping to work my passage up the Red Sea I asked around. A Greek crew nearly took me aboard but the captain said no. Reluctantly I realised I would have to return with the free roof top train ride. The prospect of the three days of intense sun was grim. I endured the heat and once again took the boat up Lake Nasser past the relocated temple of Abu Simbel. Back into Egypt and onto the luggage rack of the third class train back to Cairo. I booked into the Oxford to pause for thought. I decided I would try to get work teaching English as many travellers did. I bought a cheap shirt and trousers in the market and managed to get an interview. The employer thought I was a bit young for the job. I decided to head back to Israel. With little money left I tidied myself up for the border control. Relieved to get through I headed for the kibbutz where the guard from the army base by the moshav lived. This lay between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv in the middle of the country far away from the Golan heights where I met Etan. I found him mowing the lawns. He looked surprised to see me. I waited while he finished his line. Less ebullient than when we met before he explained that his kibbutz did not take on volunteers but he knew one nearby that did. I was happy to find refuge.

bixitaankii

Here was a different landscape to the mountains of the north. Rolling hills partly covered in pine woods left an open sky. I shared a room with a quiet Brazilian and began work in the factory. Rising early for my shift I walked to work in the chill of a starlit night. We watched over the machines producing paper cups and plastic packaging. Prompted by warning bells and buzzes we intervened if there was a malfunction. Work on the kibbutz was organised on a rota so everyone had to do a bit of everything. Eating was communal. The food was great - plenty of salad, chicken, avocado, bacon and a variety of other good stuff. We received a little pocket money each week which was enough to buy a few things from the shop and alcohol was cheap. My room mate didn't drink. A few doors down I partied with other volunteers. We were twelve in total. There were three Danish girls who were very pleasant. Billy the Scotsman who had a cocky attitude but a gentle edge, Willy the caustic Kiwi, a giggly half Swiss and half American girl, Jud the cheerful young Canadian, another Canadian who seemed surprised by everything and an American acid head. And Cliff the Scotsman who was a few years older than the age limit of 35 but managed to get away with it. Some of the young members brought weed down and smoked with us. How we laughed.

o partido

One night I drank too much vodka and stumbled into our room falling against the wall and tearing down a poster. My room mate was distraught and I moved out to share a room with Jud Pacific Ranger. This was a better arrangement as Jud was an easy going youngster. I started to draw some pictures and my reputation improved. The volunteer co-ordinator allowed me to take any materials I required from the store. I drew a large picture of a monkey-like head with the top bursting open. Willy and Billy placed it on their wall and enjoyed contemplating it after a smoke. With materials available I put together a portfolio of A3 pictures. A collection of crazy creatures and faces. I thought I might travel down to the touristic town of Elat in the very south of Israel and try my luck selling them on the street. After my stint in the factory I was given the job of helping the old maintenance man. Avi was in his seventies but chose to make himself useful rather than retire. We trundled around the kibbutz on the tractor looking for jobs. We unblocked the sewers, mended fences and generally tidied up. One day we had to move some large concrete pipe sections. We heaved them onto the trailer. Arriving at our destination I suggested we simply roll the sections off the trailer. Avi allowed my judgement. The section rolled off, hit the ground and broke into pieces. Avi said he should never listen to advice from a volunteer.

keberangkatan

'Can't do the job properly if you ain't got the right tools' predicated Avi. He thought the slim Danish girl's lunch of three apples was a bit extreme, even though he admitted he found her attractive. Meal times gathered the community together. With many large tables available people could gather in random groups. Ad hoc discussions developed. Issues were raised. Zionism was on the cards. Many kept quiet. Avocados were in abundance due to skilful irrigation. Almonds were cultivated and cotton too. I worked pruning the trees for a couple of weeks. A praying mantis stood still in the shade of the branches. I didn't pick cotton. The appeal of a soft product masked a tough job. I got along ok. I wrote a letter home after all my time away. My mum decided to come and visit me. We took a tour around Israel, visiting the Dead Sea and Jerusalem. She offered to buy me a flight back to England but I didn't feel ready to go. She suggested I go to visit my brother in Spain and I accepted the offer.

Ukuhamba

I arrived in the dark of the morning. In an old street I found an understated door. I knocked to awaken my brother John from his deep sleep. He opened up in his dressing gown. He shared a flat with his theatrical companions. Miguel was the protagonist. A compulsive socialite weaving the night into day. A Spanish timetable of late, later and possibly tomorrow. 'Tenemos que esperar' said Bodiño as we lingered outside the bar. La Borriquita de Belen had barrels as tables each with a tapa of nuts. They sold a variety of sweet wines. Jazz played. Dark wooden beams and tobacco preserved the atmosphere. I stayed with the pack touring labyrinthine Santiago. At Las Crechas a flamboyant Antonio played percussion on his platters. Parties at the house brought guests with bottles of spirits. I fell asleep in the garden. John taught English at the University but cultivated his passion for theatre by running workshops in an empty warehouse and an elegant ballroom. We tossed balls around to analyse our status interactions. Begoña worked for the local TV station and needed to improve her English for potential career advancements. I obliged. We became entwined. I visited her in her apartment in the new part of town. We snorted cocaine and I had to lie on the floor with my feet in the air. Back at the house the creativity was alive as we prepared for the Spring carnival. I made masks with paper mache. I sculpted birdlike faces from clay and formed the negative mould with plaster of paris. With a costume of rags I conjured up a voodoo spirit. We formed a demonic troop. I played a plastic trumpet as we gyrated our way through the picturesque town. My feet became itchy and Begoña offered me a lift down to Madrid. We smoked our way round the bars and stayed in a little hotel. She cashed me up and I hitched a lift with a mother and son. They were headed for Sabadell, a town thirty kilometres to the north of Barcelona. On the long journey we became friends and they invited me to stay in a little flat they owned in the town. The son introduced me to some friends in the town. I went to the cinema with some over made up chick. I took a trip to Barcelona but seemed to miss the ramblas. They invited me to stay in the family home. I stayed for a few days enjoying the comfort of domesticity but felt I needed to travel on. I took the train to the border town of Cerbere. Spain has a different gauge of rails so trains cannot continue into France.

the return

Arriving in the mid afternoon I surveyed the scene. As I wandered around the perimeter of the small coastal town a voice called to me.'Lookin' for a place to kip?'.I answered in the affirmative. Two cockney lads had installed themselves underneath a flyover at the edge of the settlement.I clambered up the rocky cliff to the recess and we shared tales of our travels. I stayed the night and then headed to Antibbes to look for work aboard a yacht. I asked around but had no luck. With dwindling funds I decided to hitch back to Blighty and retreat to the known world. Hitching through France was okay and as I neared Calais I got picked up by a trucker who was allowed to take a passenger through the chunnel.I thought I was in luck but I was wrong as he gleefully demanded payment for the privelege.I was home.