Out of Africa

Africa is one of those places that conjures up many images in one’s mind, and for the average American, most of the images are probably bad ones. If we just pause for one second to think about what we ingest from the news about Africa, it entails political unrest, famine, and AIDS. And if you don’t follow any news, the only time the average American cares about Africa, is when it directly affects them. Remember about three years ago when it turned out that two or three people flew to the U.S., but were diagnosed with ebola? The mighty brave and tough United States just about descended into chaos. When Nicole and I flew to New Jersey a couple weeks later, people were flabbergasted how we could even bring ourselves to board an airplane. It was a missed opportunity to use ebola as an excuse to get out of a trip to New Jersey. Anyway, I will not for a minute attempt to argue that I’m so much more “woke” about Africa, or somehow better, just because I spent a couple weeks there, but I will try to dispel some myths and share a few  observations I made during my very brief time there.  

 First, Africa is not just one thing. It is obviously a collection of very different cultures ranging from Islamic/Middle-Eastern in the north to a shockingly European feel in the south. The Africa that Americans tend to focus on is “scary Africa” (known to Americans through the lens of Blackhawk Down, Hotel Rwanda, Gorillas in the Mist, Captain Phillips, or Invisible Children [Remember all that fuss about #Kony2012? Yeah, nothing ever happened with that]). Then there’s the white person’s romanticized and exotic version of Africa (as seen through the lens of Casablanca, Out of Africa, The English Patient, and let’s throw in Zulu just to impress my father). As a result, I tell people I’m going to Africa, and the reaction is a mix of awe and horror. Then tell them you’re renting a car in Namibia, and the response is, “WHAT?! . . . Where’s Namibia?” I’m sure our itinerary sounded much more exotic to those not actually taking part in it. As much as I’d like to see myself as a rugged Indiana Jones-type whose survival instincts in the deserts of Southern Africa could impress even Bear Gryllz, the truth is quite far from that. If we blew a tire on the many unpaved desert roads of Namibia, I most definitely would have pulled up a YouTube video to figure out how to put on the spare. Perhaps my biggest challenge in the desert was sitting by the pool with a beer trying to connect to a decent Wi-Fi signal.  There is a large chasm that exists between perception and reality when it comes to Africa.

 Let’s go to the beginning, and to Cape Town. People (including myself) perceive the cities of South Africa to be a hive of crime. This is not necessarily untrue, but it is worth noting that thanks to the GOP and political arm of the NRA, people regard Chicago as a pretty terrifying place, and we were also there for a couple days at the beginning of our trip without giving it any thought. Unlike Chicago, however, Cape Town had a very strong security presence. People hoping to visit our hotel’s rooftop bar were basically interrogated before being allowed to access the elevator. The hotel’s own guidebook basically said not to answer your own door for any reason (what about housekeeping?), and shuttles were provided to the popular V&A Waterfront so as to avoid walking on the scary streets. So, a little about all this . . . Cape Town does have issues with crime, BUT I do think everything is a bit overblown as far as the threat to the average tourist. There are certain districts that are known for crime, and certain ones that are not. Manhattan Beach on L.A.’s westside is not the same as South Central, but Cape Town seems to be approaching the issue like they are. With any city, there’s a certain element of common sense and calculated risk that goes along with traveling; but perhaps Cape Town is taking the conservative approach and assuming that everyone is either an idiot or that a 0% risk of being victim to petty crime is infinitely preferable to a 2% risk. There’s almost more a perception of crime than there is actual crime. And again, I understand Cape Town is not the safest city in the world, but neither is it as dangerous as it would lead one to believe. With all this fear mongering, it did kind of get to our heads, and we wondered if it was ok to walk around the Bo Kaap neighborhood near our hotel. We could see a fair number of other people exploring the area from our balcony, so we figured it was safe enough. And ultimately, with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex making an arrival that afternoon, we figured security would at least be on hand for them. If there ever was a time to commit a crime, however, it would have been just prior to Prince Harry and Meghan’s arrival as the crowds became quite dense. Never did we feel unsafe during this time. Anyway point being, District Six or some of the unofficial settlements are associated with crime, but a place like the V&A Waterfront with its microbrew pubs and upscale seafood restaurants should really not be thrown into the same category. Apartheid has clearly had some lasting impacts on the populous, and there’s a high level of distrust between people with increased levels of poverty, crime, and AIDS occurring very clearly on racial lines. Nearly every house had a security system and often some “extras” such as electric fences or high cement walls. For one, it’s not aesthetically pleasing. House Hunters International would really struggle with that kind of style. Furthermore, the end of apartheid was not that long ago, and it will take a long time to heal those wounds. When we were out, we typically saw whites hanging out with other whites, blacks with blacks. There wasn’t a huge amount of mixing, though both groups have to interact with each other on a daily basis. I do believe that there will be a point in our lifetimes when South Africa will no longer be known as the place where one in three women has been victim to sexual assault. And to really drop a bombshell, South Africa is not the world’s capital of rape. They are number two to none other than the United States of America.

As we flew north to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, we encountered the Africa that is heavily tourist-driven. The infrastructure present in areas like Chobe National Park in Botswana or Victoria Falls is far beyond what one might expect in other so-called developing countries. Here we encountered our fellow tourist — well-to-do, white, tilly hat equipped, and an average age of 65. Nearly everyone was on some kind of tour. It became very clear to us that the vast majority of people do Africa this way, but it can get very expensive. The entire town of Victoria Falls is essentially a money pit for tourists. When you think Zimbabwe, you don’t think $25 for a tree ornament, but the town knows its audience. Entry to Victoria Falls was $30 per person. A day trip to Chobe cost us each $170. Even hawkers on the street were trying to sell me old hyperinflated Zimbabwean currency used under President Mugabe. I was admittedly interested in getting some billion dollar Zim notes, but knowing that it’s literally worth nothing made it difficult to spend $10 for a worthless piece of paper from a street vendor. But at the same time, you’ve got to hand it to them. With the hyperinflation, those billion and trillion dollar notes were probably worth pennies when they were new, so holding on to them and unloading them on tourists for $10 is quite a coup. Yet something even more bizarre occurred the day we were walking between Zimbabwe and Zambia. Various vendors had set up on the bridge knowing that people would be transiting between the two sides of Victoria Falls. Most were peddling various statuettes of hippos or elephants, and while we politely said we weren’t interested, their tactics shifted to a possible trade. Not one, but multiple vendors tried to trade me something for a pen. A PEN! While it’s perhaps good to know that a small statue of a giraffe is of equal or lesser value than a pen, I don’t think I’ve found in any of my travels that someone was willing to actually make a trade. Later on, another gentleman had his eyes on the hand sanitizer in a mesh pocket of my camera bag. When he offered to trade for it, I could sense Nicole in silent peril over the prospect of me giving up something very dear to her. With more than nine days of our trip remaining (and at least 30 hand washings), I politely declined, and we were left alone. I did feel a little bad, and later on some people just straight up said they were hungry and wanted some money for lunch. This segues nicely into my next topic: the white savior industrial complex.  

I don’t know a ton of people who have been to Africa, but compared to other regions of the world, there seems to be a higher incidence of people going there on “mission.” I recently spoke with one such individual who had gone to Kenya to . . .build wheelchairs. Now, the wheelchairs (or wheelchair parts) were not brought over from the United States, they were already in Kenya. And I feel as though building a wheelchair is not something that requires importing a grey-haired white man for its construction, but then again I’ve never “built” a wheelchair as you say. Nevertheless, I’m sure this gentleman felt quite good about himself. He claims his teenage children were very moved by the experience, and want to go back to “help” again. Sure, the sentiment is admirable. The desire to help other people who are less fortunate or less mobile is much preferred to telling them it’s their own fault that they can’t walk. BUT, this cycle is actually doing more harm than good. Corrupt governments enjoy this because it means they don’t have to actually do any sort of meaningful reforms, and can line their own pockets with (hyperinflated?) money that should be used for social and economic improvement projects. While at the tail end of our trip to Botswana, an elderly couple was talking about a village tour they did out of Victoria Falls. They were really raving about how the people did a whole dance to “welcome” them to the village. As it was explained to us, the children were very grateful for the $1 bills that the couple handed out. The couple continued to say how it was very interesting to see how people actually lived and made a living. I think Nicole and I were probably thinking the same thing — that this was a tour that people paid $70 a head to take part in. The tours go to the same village every day. I’m not saying the same woman making a clay pot in the village gets into a Landrover at the end of the day, but the whole setup seems suspicious. It reminds me of the Hutong Tour in Beijing, where I was taken to a school where children sang to me, drew me a picture, and we were then welcomed into a resident’s house, which amazingly happened to be the same house that I could see in three other friends pictures on facebook, who also visited the Hutong. Anyway, we were told by the couple that the village tour was great and it was wonderful to see how appreciative the villagers were with their arrival. Cool. As The Onion once said, “6-Day Visit to Rural African Village Completely Changes Woman’s Facebook Profile Picture.” And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.  

As we finally made our way to Namibia, we felt that we had gained a bit of independence as we now had our own transportation. We could pull over whenever we wanted. However, this was Namibia, and there was really nothing to pull over for. It is one of the least densely populated places on the planet and it was very apparent. To stop for snacks, we simply pulled over to the side of the unpaved road with nothing but desert for hundreds of miles. But the lack of people, major cities, and conveniences had its charms. When we arrived at Namib-Naukluft National Park, we could see stars in a volume we may never see again. In the past, I have found myself in places like Monument Valley or the Cook Islands where I could use my phone app and figure out where the Milky Way was supposed to be, point my camera in that direction, shoot a 30-second exposure and say, “Look, I can see the milky way in this picture!” In the Namib, all you had to do was look up — it was plainly visible to the naked eye. While our cameras did a decent job of capturing the night sky, they can’t replicate that feeling of “wow” from actually being present in such a surreal setting. Later on in Etosha, Nicole and I were in awe at the volume of animals we encountered. Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to be as impressed, since they were evidently just working on their "Big Five" checklists. Safari trucks were pulling up next to massive herds of zebras and driving off seconds later as if they were nothing. Can a safari still be a success without seeing the "Big Five?" If you're leading a tour group, apparently not. I'm glad we could set our own pace and enjoy what was right in front of us instead of chasing something that may not have even been there. 

In the past, I have talked at length about my overall disdain for social media influencers and instagram “models.” There’s just something about not looking at the camera (but also knowing that a camera is there) that ignites a fury in me. While we were in Namibia, I don’t think we saw a single influencer. Why is this? Well, Namibia probably hasn’t caught on yet as a tourist destination. Secondly, everything is hard to get to. It’s not like Bali, where Ubud is very social-media friendly, and places are tailor-made for these types of people. Just getting to the Namib took four and a half hours of driving on unpaved roads. And once there, the photographic opportunities were present, but only for those with some knowledge of actual cameras. Those star photos of Nicole and I holding each other would probably be an influencer’s dream shot, but your average insta-model is equipped with just an iPhone and a ring light which under ideal circumstances might capture the moon (faintly). We have perhaps reached a point of peak travel “influencing," when more people are traveling than ever before. Yet travel is being ruined by those who are attempting to portray, in one low resolution photo, a feeling, a lifestyle, or an ideal that simply does not exist.

When we were hiking over to Deadvlei in the Namib Desert, there wasn't a marked trail or anything resembling a path. I asked a young lady nearby if she had some knowledge of the path, as I didn't want to climb a 500 ft dune and get my shoes full of sand if I didn't have to. She was nice enough and shared what she thought the route was, but I was a bit surprised to see she was wearing fashionable sandals. It's like desert 101 that you don't wear sandals. Forget the traction and mobility issues, the sand can get really hot! Anyway, after this encounter we never saw her again. We forged on ahead, and I can only imagine that there is a bleached pile of bones and designer sandals baking in the desert sun of the Namib right now. This was a rare encounter in Namibia for many reasons. One, she was under 60. Two, she wasn't wearing the signature Columbia travel pants and adventuring hat. Where does she get off? While she was a rarer sight than a cheetah, she is like the canary in the coal mine of what could be. I don't have enough instagram followers (or influence) to matter, but someone else might. Then it's only a matter of time before a swarm of 150 influencers are all posing contemplatively, gazing away from the camera, duck lips on point, Chinese tour group cleverly cropped out of frame. Photography by nature is a bit of a deception. The photographer only shows what they would like you to see, and that's understandable. But a simple deception from an instagram account with a million followers can lead to thousands wanting to replicate the exact same shot for their own followers (even if that shot is dishonest). Because for many, it's not even about visiting a place or experiencing it, but rather about showing other people that you visited the place. This leads to a very damaging cycle of disingenuous instagram posts enticing others to get the same shot. All of a sudden, the highly sought after photo site becomes overwhelmed with people who don't care about anything but the number of likes they hope to receive. Namibia, and the places we visited in southern Africa as a whole, are still insulated from this threat, but that can quickly change.


So what’s the point of all this? Well it’s a collection of three lessons that one can use not just for travels to Africa, but really anywhere. 

1. Do your research on safety (whether that be crime, food hygiene, or road conditions), but also have the sense to make your own judgments and assessments. The best information is not always found in a statistic or data point, but from firsthand accounts.

2. It doesn’t matter where your heart is, if you act like you’re some kind of gift to the local populous, you're part of the problem.

3. Usually this is where I would encourage people to travel more, but it's quality over quantity. If the only reason you're going somewhere is to get a few likes or some new followers, just stay home. Leave these amazing sites for the people who appreciate them and actually care. Mahalo.