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Abstract

Fuel consumption was hence quite a standard metric in our minds back then. Exchange rates were too. Without realising it, we learnt about currency conversions and purchasing power.The truck was kitted out and we had everything that we needed. My mother, being a teacher at our school, helped us with all the formal education that we needed at the time. We studied a few hours a day, starting at sunrise. That left the rest of the day for more practical learning and sightseeing.We did a lot of sightseeing. This caused us to take some things for granted. I recall once driving through the veld and seeing some movement in the bushes. Getting a closer look, I remarked ‘It’s just another elephant’.This being said, I also recall being in awe of the wildlife — from the thousands of animals we saw migrating over salt pans, to the hundreds of beautiful birds that I got to know by name.I could also spot the tracks and spoor of most animals. And I knew most of the mountains ranges and rivers across the regions that we travelled.At the time, I did not see much difference between ourselves and others. It was a great age, where comparisons did not exist in my mind.I remember only once thinking about this, when I got mild malaria and had to be carried into a public clinic with my white blonde head of hair. There was a long line of people staring.Perhaps this was my first memory of ‘differences’.I can recall some of my favourite memories. Snorkelling off an island in Kenya was one. The water was warm and crystal clear, with absolute clarity metres down and thousands of tropically-coloured fish.Another etched memory is the aromatic smell of hills of clov # Options es, all ready for export, in Zanzibar.Lake Malawi was also a firm favourite; every evening over sundowners my brother and I would design our ideal holiday resorts in the sand, and every morning at sunrise I would admire how local workers would rake all of the lake-side sand so symmetrically.Most of the memories were however not so ‘captured’ in my mind. They were not tied to a location, day, or photograph.Many of these were related to smell — the smell of banana pancakes that locals often sold, the smell of mosquito spray that we had to so religiously apply every evening, the smell of campfires.Other memories were of sounds — the sound of the lid flipping off of the one small glass bottle of Coke that my brother and I were each allowed in the evenings, the sound of the velcro strap on my shoes as I put them on each day, the sound of my crunchy-sounding sleeping bag, and the sound of all wildlife around us.Yet other memories were of sleeping some nights and in some reserves atop the truck, on the roof-rack; of meeting wonderful, kind, and friendly people who shared some of our route with us in their own vehicles; and of playing cards most nights. TV was never missed.At the time I did not realise, but perhaps what I loved most about this trip was that we lived each day fully, to the point of sleeping deeply each night, having spent all of our energy, moving and being outdoors, and doing everything for ourselves.I also loved that we were so present.I remember my parents saying that we would probably never have the ‘right’ amount or combination of time and money, and so we should seize the opportunity.I am so grateful that they did.</article></body>

When I Was Seven My Family and I Travelled Through Africa Over Five Months

Inspiration to travel with your children post pandemic

At the time I did not realise, but perhaps what I loved most about this trip was that we lived each day fully, to the point of sleeping deeply each night, having spent all of our energy, moving and being outdoors, and doing everything for ourselves. I also loved that we were so present.

I remember my parents saying that we would probably never have the ‘right’ amount or combination of time and money, and so we should seize the opportunity.

I am so grateful that they did.

When I was seven years old my family and I travelled through Africa, over five months. On this trip we visited (in no particular order): Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Tanzania, Kenya, Zanzibar, Mozambique, and Malawi.

We did not travel as you might think. We travelled in an over-lander truck, designed and built by my father, an engineer. In other words, we did not stay in a single hotel. Sometimes we camped. We also stayed with friends on three or four occasions.

Perhaps this paints a picture of the trip in your mind already.

The year was 1995. We did not have smart phones, or any phones for that matter. We used proper maps and calculators.

Each day or as needed my brother (18 months older) and I calculated the distances that we needed to drive each day, and, with some information about the next stopping point, calculated our fuel and water requirements.

Fuel consumption was hence quite a standard metric in our minds back then. Exchange rates were too. Without realising it, we learnt about currency conversions and purchasing power.

The truck was kitted out and we had everything that we needed. My mother, being a teacher at our school, helped us with all the formal education that we needed at the time. We studied a few hours a day, starting at sunrise. That left the rest of the day for more practical learning and sightseeing.

We did a lot of sightseeing. This caused us to take some things for granted. I recall once driving through the veld and seeing some movement in the bushes. Getting a closer look, I remarked ‘It’s just another elephant’.

This being said, I also recall being in awe of the wildlife — from the thousands of animals we saw migrating over salt pans, to the hundreds of beautiful birds that I got to know by name.

I could also spot the tracks and spoor of most animals. And I knew most of the mountains ranges and rivers across the regions that we travelled.

At the time, I did not see much difference between ourselves and others. It was a great age, where comparisons did not exist in my mind.

I remember only once thinking about this, when I got mild malaria and had to be carried into a public clinic with my white blonde head of hair. There was a long line of people staring.

Perhaps this was my first memory of ‘differences’.

I can recall some of my favourite memories. Snorkelling off an island in Kenya was one. The water was warm and crystal clear, with absolute clarity metres down and thousands of tropically-coloured fish.

Another etched memory is the aromatic smell of hills of cloves, all ready for export, in Zanzibar.

Lake Malawi was also a firm favourite; every evening over sundowners my brother and I would design our ideal holiday resorts in the sand, and every morning at sunrise I would admire how local workers would rake all of the lake-side sand so symmetrically.

Most of the memories were however not so ‘captured’ in my mind. They were not tied to a location, day, or photograph.

Many of these were related to smell — the smell of banana pancakes that locals often sold, the smell of mosquito spray that we had to so religiously apply every evening, the smell of campfires.

Other memories were of sounds — the sound of the lid flipping off of the one small glass bottle of Coke that my brother and I were each allowed in the evenings, the sound of the velcro strap on my shoes as I put them on each day, the sound of my crunchy-sounding sleeping bag, and the sound of all wildlife around us.

Yet other memories were of sleeping some nights and in some reserves atop the truck, on the roof-rack; of meeting wonderful, kind, and friendly people who shared some of our route with us in their own vehicles; and of playing cards most nights. TV was never missed.

I also loved that we were so present.

I remember my parents saying that we would probably never have the ‘right’ amount or combination of time and money, and so we should seize the opportunity.

I am so grateful that they did.