A LAND AFAR

It was the Dalai Lama (was it?) that once said that once a while you must go some place new. I subscribe to that. I never pass an opportunity to go to paths I've never been to, within limits of course. The Lama's statement didn't include getting out of one's comfort zone but I see no reason why not.

I was one morning convinced by a colleague that going to Ethiopia would be a good idea. I didn't protest. I had a few other trips lined before this one and I therefore gave him carte blanche to plan all activities. My type A personality wasn't able to let him have all the power so I bought a Brandt Guide book and gave it to him for reference. He came back with an interesting itinerary, including climbing Erta Ale, and I didn't object. He managed to convince me that it's not very physically challenging. 

Before we continue I must paint this picture for you. Im not the most physically active person I know. Once a month I go for a mandatory 5km run in my neighborhood. Some month are luckier than others that we go to a longer run and perhaps take steps to my 5th floor office if the lift isn't working or is crowded. That's pretty much it. 

Erta Ale is Amharic for burning mountain because of the live volcano atop the mountain. One of the majestic landmarks in Ethiopia's Afar region (and really I wanted to tell people that just came from afar when they ask me where I was on gaycation) 

We flew from Johannesburg to Addis Ababa via Nairobi because of my plans to miss my return flight between Nairobi and Johannesburg to spend more time in Kenya. We arrived quite late in Addis and planned a night at an airport hotel nearby Bole International Airport. The main idea was for us to catch the earliest flight out of Addis to Mekele, a city in the Tigray region north of Ethiopia. Here one finds various tour operators that have tours going to Erta Ale and Dallol, one of the hottest places on earth (will write about this one day). 

The day of the tour arrived and we drove to the Afar region. What a beautiful drive. The Afar region is dominated by pastoralists who raise goats, cattle and sheep in the desert. They are mostly Muslim and since we traveled during Ramadan there was very little activity in the day time in the small towns we passed. You could feel it getting hotter the further into the region we drove. 

Some Buna for the road. 



A small town in the Afar region with little activity at daytime. 

We arrived at the base of Erta Ale just before sunset and it was 44 degrees centigrade outside. We were to have dinner then head up the mountain to see the volcano. We would also sleep a few meters away from the mouth of the volcano. I'm not going to lie to you, never in my life have I doubted by choices like I did that afternoon before climbing Erta Ale. We were told that the last eruption was in January. And honey!!! That got me sweating like Gypsy with a mortgage. I imagined another eruption while asleep. Panicked that I'd die in foreign lands because I like things. And to make matters worse there was no cellphone reception and the last bit of life we saw was around an hour away from base camp. 

At base camp with camels ready to carry water, sleeping bags and mattresses for us. 

After dinner we waited for darkness and for it to cool down to a manageable 36 degrees before we trekked up the mountain. We could see the volcano from where we were. It didn't look very far and that was comforting. The guide said it will take around 2.5 hours to get up there. Seemed doable. At the start i was just annoyed by the soft 'sand' from the crushed lava. Made it hard to walk: reason 22 346 why I never take long walks on the beach with shoes on. 

After about two hours of climbing and no end in sight my patience ran dry and so did my water bottles. I was so close to screaming profanities when the guide said we are only half way the 10km climb. I was ready to be left there and collected in the morning. The poor guide was so sweet he offered to take my load (and by that I mean my bag) for me. It helped a lot because I managed to get to the top of the mountain. I don't even think I had time to high five myself for a job well done. As I was catching my breath he started giving us instructions on what to do when we eventually got to the mouth of the volcano. 

Living on the edge: the mouth of the volcano. 

All I wanted to do was sleep. I didn't care much for the volcano. I was happy seeing the glow from a few meters away and those occasional sparks that came. Everyone was so excited that the whole excursion to the mouth of the volcano took an entire hour. I wanted to sleep! Eventually grabbed a mattress and sleeping bag and slept under the stars. Apparently it's romantic and magical. That night I wanted nothing to do with stars or the volcano, I needed sleep. 

I must have gone out like a light when I put my head down. Only to be woken up by the guide to go see the volcano in morning light. This time I put my foot down and told him I'm not going anywhere near that thing again. I wanted to sleep. Only then did I notice the beautiful sky just before daybreak and appreciated the glow from the volcano too. 

The walk down was much better because i left with the group that left just before sunrise to avoid the heat of the sun. We walked fairly alright and made it down in just over two hours. I was so happy to get back to base camp and welcomed by our driver with a bottle of mango juice. 

We didn't see what we were stepping on the night before. This is the lava we were walking on in the dark the night before. 

I'm not in a hurry to go back to Erta Ale after my crazy night but I'm glad I did it. It was a brand new experience for me that I'd never have taken had it not been of a resilient spirit to try new things. I came down from that mountain a changed person (because the sun burnt me so much) with a torn pair of shoes that's looking forward the the next adventure. 

Delhightful?

Delhi oh Delhi! Where do I start, beloved? 

I had a spring on my step as I walked from the aircraft to the terminal building.  Mumbai had been awesome and Delhi promised to be great.

After a slight hiccup with my hotel pickup I was on my way to the city from the airport.  I got to my hotel, freshened up and got ready to hit the town. I must have walked for about 500m away from the hotel when it hit me. I was overwhelmed by noise, the humidity, the crowd and the poverty. I went back to my hotel to try and gain composure and try the city again  a little later.

When I got back to the hotel I changed clothes to more comfortable clothing. In all my travels I've never been intimidated by a city like Delhi did. It was strange. I took a walk to a different direction than I did earlier and it didn't work. The people starred at me without flinching. I was the only black person in the area. In fact I hadn't seen black people since I got off the KQ plane. Delhi 2: Me 0. I went back to my hotel and ordered room service and started thinking about going back home. 

I've never had to cut a trip short over how I felt about the city. I always made cities work. But perhaps I hadn't been to a city as different as Delhi. So after my nap I went online and I looked for a club. At 22:00 I dolled up and went to the club. I stayed till 02:00, met a few nice people but still no connection. Zilch. I wanted to go home. Not even  my next destination but home boo.

I woke up on Sunday morning with renewed energy. I wasn't going to go home. I wasn't going to be defeated by a city. Packed my city bag, walked outside the hotel and hailed a tuk tuk (or an auto rickshaw as they call it) and headed to the Red Fort. Two days later I'm still here and I like Delhi. I think by tonight I will love it.

So what the heck did I do wrong? Delhi is no place for perfectionists and preconceived ideas of how things should run. I chose my hotel based on the fact that it was in a 'safe' area. I expected  everything to be as pretty as a picture. And unfortunately a few metres away from the hotel I was met by the realities of india. I don't know why I expected all of this to be tucked away. I expected a Sandton knowing that Alexandra is across the road and when Alex hit sooner than I expected I freaked out. This has had me question the way things are done in South Africa...

GETTING AROUND
Delhi is a very big city of several millions of people. A city this big needs a transport system that will carry it's people to work and back home easily and efficiently.

Rickshaw
These are the guys who ride bicycles to ferry people along short distances. They charge around 20 Rupees (about ZAR 4) for their  effort. As a tourist they will obviously try and milk as much out of you as possible. So play hard.

Auto Rickshaw
These are what we call tuk-tuks. They go longer distances than the rickshaws and obviously more expensive because they are faster. Ask for the driver to put on the metre or agree on a prepaid rate before boarding.

Metro
By far the best invention for this city. Easy to use and very cheap too. A metro ticket costs  a minimum of... wait for it... 10 Rupees, yes you read right,  and goes up depending on the distance. The metro covers a big chunk of city, is air conditioned and on time. Announcements are made in English as well. There's a cart reserved especially for ladies and no men are allowed  in there. Even the other carts have seats reserved for ladies. Nice one Delhi! Because the men in this city are so aggressive.

Uber
In Uber we trust! Well not in Delhi. I've had two unfortunate events that have put me off Uber here. The first one was when I had to walk a few blocks to find my driver because he didn't know where my hotel was. This was the night I went clubbing. I even asked the hotel staff to direct him in Hindu. After a 7 minute conversation the only thing that made sense was to go find him.

The second incident was the worst for me. We got lost in Chattarpur with another driver. After 5 minutes of getting lost he told me to get off the car because he was late for his next appointment. It was 19:00 in an area I didn't know and he left me. Thank God for kind locals.

Below are a few pictures of the city. I won't bore you with details check it out in instagram.

I will post something on Delhi food culture later. It made me fall in love with the city. I explored restaurants that are over a 100 years old that made the most beautiful meals imaginable. Today I've four more to go. Can't wait.

Goodbye , Mumbai

When I decided that I would go to India a few months ago I had no expectations of the country. A few days ago when I left South Africa I hoped to miss my connecting flight to Mumbai from Nairobi. I only  realised when I got to india that I was scared of this new adventure. It feels like 2012 all over again when I left South Africa for East Africa for the first time.

ARRIVING IN MUMBAI
I has a very pleasant flight on Kenya Airways on Thursday. We arrived at around 17:00. Disembarkation was very chaotic. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get off the plane. Understandably so, we were about thirty minutes late. Most people probably had connecting flights etc. But it really was chaotic and I just sat on the until the dust settled.

I had a bit of trouble with border control. They wanted my yellow fever certificate and I didn't have it. This was very strange because I prepared a checklist a few days before departure and I don't remember anything about a yellow fever certificate requirement. I stood there while this guy made noise asking everyone. A few minutes later I was allowed in and yes, South Africans do not need yellow fever certificates for india. If you plan to come to india I would recommend that you carry it to make your life easier.

After all this drama I had to make a plan on how I was going to get to the hotel in the Colaba area from the airport. I was very tired since I left home 12 hours ago and I didn't sleep on the plane. The best thing to do was to get a cab to the hotel. I had read horror stories of cabbies taking longer routes to make extra cash so I opted for an uber car. It took forever to get to me and my phone was misbehaving but I finally got ahold of my driver and we headed off to Colaba.

DRIVING IN MUMBAI
I've been to Asia before and I know that traffic is terrible in most Asian cities. I was somewhat prepared for this. However, I wasn't so prepared for the 'chaos' on the roads. I say 'chaos' because it is working well for the locals. My driver drove like a maniac.  He changed lanes by just honking his horn. He drove in between lanes. He drove towards oncoming traffic. My poor heart!

I later learnt that this is how everyone drives in this city. I got tired of reacting  every time I heard someone hoot. It was just normal.

There's the local train to commute between the North and South of Mumbai and the metro for East and South. These are relatively inexpensive. There's also local cabs (black and yellow) that charge a flag fall of 21 Rupees (1 INR = ZAR 0.19). These are everywhere and are available any time. Locals also use the city's red busses to get around. I didn't take one but they are everywhere.

THE CITY
Once settled I knew that I had just about 30 hours to see Mumbai before heading out to Delhi. The city city takes a bit of getting used to but it's beautiful. I posted a few pictures of the city. For stories behind the pictures please see instagram.

I quite enjoyed the local street food and the bars. None of the bars that I went to played any music. I tend to connect better with other people if there's music involved.  It's a very nice way to break the ice. Like in South Africa, the locals quite like their street food and they lay 'tables' on top of their bonnets and  chat among themselves.

The city reminded me so much of Dar es Salaam. There were quite a number of similarities. From architecture to cuisine to the men with roving eyes. Understandably so, given the Indian and Hindi history of the city.

GHANDI
Mahatma Ghandi is well respected in India, at least from what I saw in Mumbai. His face is on all the notes.  There's various monuments erected in his honour. I've learnt a lot more about him and I expect to learn more about him. I will post something on Ghandi towards the end of the trip.

GOODBYE FOR GOOD?
I can't say whether Mumbai is my favourite Indian city yet. I guess I have to try the other ones first. I don't have a strong desire to return to Mumbai any time soon.
__________________________________________
Homosexuality is illegal in India. This follows a decision that was taken a coupleof years ago to decriminalise it. The decriminalisation was due to a loophole in the penal code. India has a very large community of Hijras, the third gender. Hijras receive great protection and recognition from the government and locals. Official government forms make provision for the third gender to be selected as a gender. Locals believe that Hijras have powers to bless or curse people and for that they are well - respected members of the community.

India: Jetting off

I've been battling with blog content lately and this is because I delay my posts and it's harder to recall all the details. I've decided that it wouldn't be a bad idea to write diary posts instead.

It's  Thursday 2 July 2015 just after 3 am. I am probably flying over Zambia heading to Nairobi for to connect to Mumbai. Our flight  was slightly delayed but we managed to have our wheels up by 02:10. I am slightly worried that I will miss my flight to Mumbai. It wouldn't be a bad idea if I did.

The past couple of days I have been missing East Africa. I'd be happiest in Kampala but Nairobi, Dar and anywhere in the Swahili coast will do right now. I even played around the idea of not taking the Nairobi to Joburg leg of the trip and head to Zanzibar instead. My planned return is on 16 July and Eid is likely on the 17th. I've always fantasised about  Eid celebrations at Forodhani Gardens. Friday evenings after prayers are already so beautiful. Imagine how Eid would be.

Back to the flight. I really wouldn't mind missing the flight and getting  on the next flight to Mumbai later today. I would then spend the day in Nairobi. I actually wouldn't mind just walking around the city and have all this food I've been craving. I'd be especially happy with chips mayai  (a dish made of eggs and potato chips) or nyama choma and the nyama must certainly be nyama yambuzi. If u make it to the flight I won't be mad. I will just have Fanta Orange and kenyan chevda, my favourite Kenyan snack.

Earlier today I had dinner with mates of mine. It was really nice to have such a beautiful send off  (I have hijacked it and I am deciding to believe that this was not a catch up session but more a send off. It's strange that as a lone (almost) frequent traveler I still like to have someone send me off.

I'm actually excited AND nervous about India. I will reveal more as I go along. I will write again on the Nairobi to Mumbai leg if I make it to that flight. Cabin crew assured me that they will wait for us. There goes my grand plan!

Till later then. Let me try and nap. Okay.. that might not  happen. We have minor  turbulence all of a sudden.

India: KQ Experience

It's now 13:56 (Mumbai time) and we are about 80 minutes away from touch down. I have a glass of Rupert and Rothschild in hand and a very big smile. I wasn't going to blog but I felt compelled to.

We left Nairobi about 5 hours ago and I had mixed emotions. I somewhat felt like changing  my flight to come back earlier. I don't have a particular reason why. I think it was fear. Fear of the unknown. Remember I said I wouldn't mind missing my flight and go to Mumbai a day later after partying in Nairobi. That didn't happen. I guess that's where  the mixed emotions come from.

NAIROBI CONNECTION
The connection in Nairobi was very easy. We didn't need to go through immigration. We only had to go through security and everything was done. I was worried about my 55 minute connection time but it took me about 20 minutes. In addition, we waited for a plane from West Africa that was delayed.

BOEING 787-8
We flew the Boeing 787Dreamliner on this leg of the journey. I can't decide which aircraft I like between the B787 or the A380. When we took off from Nairobi I swear I had goose bumbs. So beautiful. Didn't even feel that we aren't on the ground anymore. I had a huge smile. I wanted to tell someone. There was no one who looked like they would be interested in my story. Aah well. I love love love their window 'shutters' and mood lighting.

The journey was  very smooth. A few bumps up and down along the way and strange enough nothing that got me worried. I'm waiting for the landing. I will update on the next post.

KQ HOSPITALITY
The one thing that you can always count on is the warmth of the East African people. The KQ cabin crew was amazing. But before I continue about about that I need to mention how awesome their liquor selection is.

The liquor cart was filled  with good goods. Think Absolute Vodka, Bombay Gin, Rupert and Rothschild...  need I continue. And the cabin crew were very generous with those baby bottles of booze. Bless them!

I will be spending two nights in Mumbai before heading to Delhi. The next post will be about my Mumbai experience. Adios

Safari Njema

Just as Mombasa was beginning to feel like home I had to bid farewell to this lovely beach city. It was only three days ago when I trekked into town to go buy my first class train ticket to Nairobi. You should have seen the shock in my face when I went to the counter to buy my ticket. It looked like a Spaza shop. But hey, it said First Class on the window.

 

The train was scheduled to depart Mombasa Station at 19:00. My oh-so-efficient cab driver mentioned that we needed to leave the hotel at 17:00 because there is going to be a lot of traffic on our way from Reef to Town. There was always traffic in the city no matter what time of day it was but got worse in the evenings. We arrived at the train station at 17:55 as he had predicted and the car was searched for bombs, Kenyan style.  It took a while to understand what was going on until I linked it to the bombings.

I walked around the train station looking for the platform and was greeted by loud African music and happy people. Of course I knew I was in the right place. The excitement to go to the nations capital could not be missed in the locals’ faces.

I really need to stop being paranoid. As I waited for the boarding announcement I needed to go to the train station tuck shop. I wanted to take my bags with me because I was worried that they would be stolen, typical South African. There was a young man that was sitting close to me, he didn’t look like he was going to board the train. I wanted to ask him to watch my bag while I went to the tuckshop. I had ‘profiled’ him and worried that I would come back to no bags. I took a leap of faith and I asked him. Needless to say, I came back and I found him standing there with my bags. A huge sigh of relief.

The Railway Shop

At 18:30 a boarding announcement was made. I still had no idea which coach to get on. I just followed the white people. There was an eclectic mix of people awaiting to board the train. 99% of them looked like tourists from Europe. I spotted a lesbian couple with what seemed like their adopted baby girl and I wanted to go say hi to them. It was obvious that she was adopted, she was black and they were white. Everyone stood on the platform waiting to be told where to go. Turns out that our hand-written tickets had details on which cabin to board.

After minutes of trying to find the right cabin and berth I finally settled in and the train left 30 minutes later. It was going to be a long ride. I was actually very happy that I didn’t have a berth mate for the trip. We all stood by the windows and bid Mombasa farewell. Some even waved white handkerchiefs, just like in the movies.

Moments after we left Mombasa and into the darkness that I believed was Tsavo the dinner bell rang. As first class passengers we were called into the dining room. At this moment I need to mention that this first class berth was nothing like the first class I imagined.  It was beautiful and rustic nonetheless..

There was a bunch of festive European travellers. They came from Belgium, Sweden and Germany. At dinner I met this Swedish gentleman that lives in Nairobi. We had a lot of Tusker beer while in the dining room until we were asked to leave. I had forgotten to get cash for the ride and only had 100 Ksh. My friend bought me so much beer I could never thank him enough.

The best beer in a minute.

The topic of conversation that dominated was black ladies. Coming from Mombasa you will understand that there are many “cockroaches”, prostitutes, and they come in different forms. The gentlemen mentioned that they liked a few black ladies they saw in Mombasa. The ladies liked them back. But they worried that these ladies might not be genuine. They might be long-term prostitutes, seeing them as meal tickets. I couldn’t help but wonder.  Multi-racial couples were a normal sight in Mombasa. What was more distinct was that the white partner would be older. I aint trying to start nothing here, so I ma stop.

We arrived in Nairobi at nine. Two hours late. I am grateful that I took the train. As we were approaching Nairobi I got to see the poor conditions that many Kenyans live under. There was a shantytown next to the railway; I assumed that it was Kibera. Kibera is the largest slum village in the whole of Africa.

Nairobi City Centre

I was so happy to get to Nairobi, I actually wanted to kiss the ground. The city was abuzz. I was really lazy to walk through the traffic and find my way to the hotel so I hailed a cab. The cab looked like it would break down but it didn’t matter, I was in Nairobi.

Nairobi Railway Station

Bombasa

This post was written while on the plane to Mombasa from Johannesburg. Additional comments that were added later are in italics.

I could not sleep! I could not sleep even one wink! I slept at 23:45 on Sunday, 01/04/12 in anticipation of my long awaited trip to Mombasa. I was wide-awake at 04:00 getting ready to depart at 05:15. I rang a cab up to come and pick me up from my apartment to the Gautrain station. The real reason for my sleeplessness is because I was very nervous. Yes, this was my first trip to East Africa and no that is not why I was nervous. On Sunday, 01 April 2012, I woke up to the news of a church and restaurant that were bombed in Mtwapa, Mombasa City, the night before. I didn’t know if I should cancel my trip and wait it out or just go. It was a bit too late that night because I had already checked-in on that flight.

On days subsequent to the bombing Al Shabaab claimed responsibility for the attack and this has been going on for the past three years. You probably know of the attacks in a Nairobi mall that left many people tragically killed.

I was so excited about this trip that I was really not going to let anything stand on the way. I bought a new, lovely bag that i was going to use to 'backpack Africa' with. Well, I didn't backpack, i just liked the idea of my new designer bag. My friend, Lerato @madamafrika, treated me to a beautiful coffee ceremony in Yeoville and bid me farewell. I will never forget her tales of East Africa. 

Lerato at the coffee ceremony.

The fabulous 'I-am-backpacking-africa' bag

 

I am flying to Mombasa on 1Time (a South African low cost airline); the tickets are not too expensive in comparison to Kenya Airways that goes via Nairobi. I am still surprised to see that not a lot of people travel up to East Africa. The plane must be at 30% capacity, I have the entire first row to myself and I feel like I am on Business Class. It is school holidays; I expected to see more families on the plane. I am quite selfish because I don’t want this route to be discontinued. Something in me tells me that I will love Mombasa. I knew I loved it the moment I picked up an in-flight magazine on a British Airways flight, High Life, and I read about the Mombasa Tusks that were built for the Queen’s visit. I kept that magazine and brought it to this trip with me. In 2010 when I was in London Prince William got engaged to Kate in a Kenyan village. I never bothered to find out what village this was but I just always imagined it as Mombasa. And I have been 'learning' KiSwahili since 2003 when Safi taught me how to greet. To this day this is all i know, I feel that I need to learn a bit more while I am in East Africa.

The Mombasa Tusks on Moi Avenue, Mombasa.

1Time was liquidated and one of the first routes that was suspended before the inevitable liquidation was Mombasa. I was so heartbroken! I still have the High Life magazine. I almost cried when I saw the tusks in the city centre. I love Mombasa, I have returned there one more time and will return again a couple more times. I went to a remote Kenyan village too, Watamu, and no I didn’t get engaged nor was I with a Prince William. I still don’t know what the village that they got engaged in is called. Perhaps I should Google it? Oh and I can now hold a small conversation in Swahili, there is much more to learn. Perhaps another trip to East Africa.

The aircraft is quite loud; one needs something to filter the noise, the music is helping. I am listening my collection of African music. Baba Maal, Salif Keita, Angelique Kidjo, Tuku, 4 Etoles. Vusi Mahlasela, Busi Mhlongo, etc. This music is the reason why I am traveling the continent and braving a few weeks of my life to explore East Africa. A four-hour flight without entertainment can be quite painful. Thank God I had brought entertainment.

I have arranged Airport transfer with the hotel (Reef Hotel in Nyali) following the events on Saturday night.  I had planned to take a matatu or tuk-tuk to the hotel so I can meet people. I am not about to take the risk of being in a crowded area in case there are more bombings. I have decided that I would much rather stay far from any busy areas until I have had a chat with the locals. My driver is Julius. He called me last night to confirm that he will be there at 12:45 to come and get me. Bless him…. Two more hours yawn.

Julius was a great driver. He assured me that there would be no retaliation by the Christians because Muslims and Christians in Mombasa have lived alongside each other in peace for years.

Candle in the Wind(hoek)

I still remember the day I took my trip to Windhoek like it was yesterday. I had spent the days preceding my departure at one of Africa’s greatest gay gatherings, the Mother City Queer Project (MCQP) in Cape Town. The year was 2011 and the theme was Maid In China. This was my first MCQP and it lived up to all of my expectations. My journey started in the morning of 19 December with a brisk walk from my hotel at the V&A to the Cape Town train station. Yes, you read it right; I took a 23-hour bus ride from Cape Town to Windhoek.

I honestly do not know what had possessed me to take a journey by bus alone instead of flying to Windhoek. I had not been in a bus since 2007 but something in me made me think it was a good idea to be on a bus for 23 hours instead of flying for two hours. My decision may have been informed by the fact that the bus ride was less than $100 vs. at least $300 by plane. After a few minutes of admin and finding my bus we were on our way. I was excited. I came prepared with my snacks, music and a power pack for when my iPod would give up on me. I was that super eager guy in row 22!

The most beautiful thing about this journey was meeting all the different people that were making their way from Cape Town to their homes for the Christmas holiday season. I met a lovely lady (we shall call her Grace) who had just completed her Masters degree at the University of Western Cape in economics from Windhoek who gave me a bit of a background on the country’s politics and economic policies. I also met gentlemen who were making their way to Angola and the DRC. I quite enjoyed the conversations with all these people and one particular one was with Grace when she was telling me about her decision to quit her job and go study full time after her divorce. Grace was also very kind to give me a blanket at night. I don’t know what I was thinking – I just assumed that the bus company would provide us with blankets like they do on planes. Now I (and you) know.

The gentlemen from Angola and DRC at one of our stops before crossing the Namibian border.

We arrived in Windhoek at 8 am after an uneventful ride after we crossed the Namibian border. Note to self: the next time you decide to take a bus ride that crosses any borders just make sure it is not over the Christmas period. I was very lucky that the bus stopped right outside my hotel in the city center, Hilton (don’t side-eye me, yes I took a bus to go stay in a 5* hotel). I must mention that that was by far the best hotel I stayed in during my travels. Their attention to detail was awesome. Perhaps I was happy with the fact that they allowed me to check in early AND have breakfast. I am tempted to say that this was the best part of my Windhoek stay.

This is all I traveled with. This is me awaiting my room to be ready at the lobby of the Hilton Hotel Windhoek

Scrumptious breakfast at the Hilton Windhoek

The city is very clean! It reminds me of a small German town I have never been to or a small version of Bloemfontein, a South African city. I searched the city for Namibian cuisine and all I was met with was German cuisine that was drenched in oil enough to deep fry a pea. Honestly my disappointment at this city came from the fact that it had no identity of its own. It was the tenth province of South Africa – I could still use my South African Rands throughout the city and dine out at the same South African chain restaurants.

I spent my days lounging my hotel's rooftop bar and sending my friends pictures of the cocktails I was having and the spectacular views of the sunset.

The nights were more eventful. I went to the local bars and clubs to meet people. I went for the One Namibian Dollar shots special at Fashion Bar in the outskirts of the city. Again, it didn’t feel like I left South Africa. The only saving grace was Chez Ntemba and their zouk/Kizomba music. I thoroughly enjoyed the Angolan and Congolese patrons (men) and their warm welcome and flirting (which I didn’t mind at all).

I also quite enjoyed seeing the beautiful OvaHimba ladies in their full traditional gear and their famous natural long hair. The OvaHimba are a tribe from the North of Namibia and are the last nomadic people of Namibia.

Calling the Kuchu

I have been meaning to write this since 2012. I have had so many versions hereof and I have discarded so many of them. I just never thought I would be able to articulate my experiences the way that I ought to. The funny thing is that whenever I tell people my story they are always fascinated and always want to hear more. So today is the day that I tell my story of being a gay traveller in Africa.

I think this is a perfect time to write this. The moment one says gay and Africa in the same sentence the first thing that comes to mind is death and all associated emotions. Admit it! I did too. My first thought was how I would have to act in order to be accepted. Being born and bred in South Africa I got accustomed to being myself and pay little attention to how my sexuality came across to people.

One particular moment that stands out was my trip from Nairobi, Kenya to Kampala, Uganda. I had always wanted to go to Kampala but I was, of course, scared to go there. I had planned my entire East African trip and left a few days opened for Kampala but didn’t book any flights and accommodation, just in case I changed my mind. The excitement of being in Mombasa and Nairobi and meeting kuchus (slang for gays) gave me the strength to go forth and book my flight to Kampala the next few days before heading to Tanzania.

I had a few problems (in my mind, of course). All of my clothes were quite ‘gay’. Just to paint a picture – I had this old man give me the eye of disapproval on my way to catch a matatu on Moi Avenue in Mombasa because my luminous orange short shorts probably hurt his eyes. I then decided that I needed to get clothes that made me look more (this word is debatable) butch *chuckle*. Off I went to the shops in Westgate, Nairobi! I managed to find some baggy pants and a blazer to wear to the airport so I can at least get my Visa. Now that I think of it, it was rather a dumb idea to think that clothes would make me look butch. But hey…

The morning of my trip came. I had mixed emotions! I was sweating up a storm. The clothes were too big and I was nervous. But I was excited to finally go and see Kampala and Makerere University, which for me should be the Havard of Africa. I sat next to a very unfriendly man that didn’t greet me back after I used my best KiSwahili to say hi to him. The fun began in Entebbe Airport, Uganda, when I had to go get my visa. I had my $50 in hand, my passport a big smile and a butch walk to match. Perhaps I should have left the smile behind. I greeted the lady at the desk in KiSwahili, I should have learnt some Buganda, and she was really nice and complemented my good KiSwahili. We chatted a bit about me being from Sauzi (South Africa) and I became quite comfortable. I completely forgot that I was meant to be straight acting. I picked my bags up and off I sashayed to get a taxi.

On the way to Entebbe I found myself disappointed at myself. Disappointed to have listened to the negative media about Africa. Western media! I actually cried! The drive from Entebbe was the most beautiful drive ever and I would not have experienced it had I not taken that step to not be afraid. I didn’t care what would happen to me when I get to Kampala. I was happy to have taken the bold step to see my continent. The sight of Victoria Lake took me back to my childhood when we learnt about the greatest lakes in Africa. And at that point I decided that I was going to write this to you and tell you to be brave and take that bold step in going to see the beautiful Africa.

My experiences in Africa have been nothing short of amazing. I have made friends that have become family. I have learnt to get out of my comfort zone – learnt a new language, gate crashed a wedding, took a boda boda (motorbike) that had no lights in the middle of the night from a club without a helmet, taken a matatu (local taxi) to Watumu from Mombasa without a map but the help of locals, stopped at a bar that looked busy and had a few beers, the list is endless. Not once have I felt discriminated. I understand that my experience may not be the same as everyone else’s.  

Bill Bryson summed it all up and said “to my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.”  I look forward to sharing more of my travels in Africa with you.

By Mel M

Mel M is a young gay man with itchy feet and wanderlust tendencies. During most days he is an accountant and by night and other days he transforms into a travel addict that spends most of the time looking up destinations and being in those. His love for the African continent has had him travel to 12 African countries in two years and hasn't stopped. His travels aren't only limited to the African continent.