JupitersTravels TedSimon

Jupiter. Whenthereservetankrandrytoo,andtheenginechokedanddied,IguessedI wastenorfifteenmilesfromGaya.Thethoughtwasdisagreeable.Itmightmean spendingthenightthere,andsomewhereIhadreadthatGayawasthedirtiest towninIndia. Iletthebikerollofftheasphaltontothegrassunderashadetree.Thetrunkof thetreewasstoutandtwistedwithprominentrootsandagreyscalybark. Droopingclustersofsmalldryleavesgaveamediumshade.Itwasacommon treeinIndiathoughIstillcouldnotrememberitsname. Ituckedmyglovesintomyhelmetandstoodbythebikelookingupanddownthe countryroadandacrossthefieldofgreenwheatwonderingwhowasgoingto helpmethistime,andwhatitwouldleadto.Ididnotdoubtthathelpwouldcome, andwithitmostprobablysomeunexpectedtwistinmyfortunes.Ithadtaken yearstoachievethatmeasureofconfidenceandcalm,andasIwaitedIallowed myselfsomepleasureinknowingit. Mythoughtsbrushedovertheyearsandmilesofthejourney,tracingthefearasit hadwaxedandwanedalongtheway,tryingtoholditalltogetherandreassure myselfthattherereallyhadbeenabeginning.Withoutabeginninghowcould therebeanend?Attimes,andmorefrequentlynow,Icouldfeelthetiredness invadingmybones,bleachingmyretinaandraisingamistonthehorizonofmy mind.Soonitwouldhavetoend.Thereweremanymenwalkingalongtheroad. Mostofthemworeloosecottonclothing,oncewhitebutstainedrightthroughby thereddishbrownsoilofBihar.Itcaughtthesunsoftly,andthepeoplepassedby underthetreeslikepaleshadowstakingupnospace. Fewmotorvehicleswereontheroad.Somemenwereridingbicycles,andafew droveoxcartsorrodeinponycabs.Thereweresomebuzzingautorickshaws too,whicharethreewheeledscooterswithcabsforpassengers.Theywere unlikelytohavesparepetrol.InthestateofBiharyoucouldgetthreeorfour mealsforthepriceofalitreofpetrol. Ataxicametowardsmefullofpeoplepressingforward.Thedriverwasbentover thewheelwithhisdarkfacethrustagainstthewindscreenandalltheexpression squeezedoutofhim.Thewheelsflewupanddownonthebumps,andthetaxi slitheredandjudderedacrossthewavesoftarasthoughtryingtoescape,drawn toitsdestinationonlybytheconcertedprayersofthepeopleinsideit. Bythistimeseveralmenhadstoppedtoobservemeandthenreluctantlywalked on,butnowonecamewhospokealittleEnglish.Hiscolourandfeatures indicatedthathewasaBrahmin,thoughhisknottedcord,ifhehadone,was coveredbyhisshawlandskirt.Hetoldmestraightawaythathewasverypoor.I repliedbytellinghimthatIhadnopetrol. 'Villageisthere,'hesaid.'Notfar.' Hestoppedanothermancomingalongslowlyonabicyclewithashoppingbag slungfromthehandlebars,andspoketohiminHindi. 'Hesaystheywillbehavingpetrol.Itistwomiles.Notfar.'

Ithankedhimandwaited.Ifeltsuretherewouldbenopetrolatthenextvillage butcouldnotsayso.ThereweremorewordsspokeninHindi. 'Thismanwillgoonhisbicycle.Howmuchpetrolyouarewishing?' Itdidnotseemtomethatthemanhadvolunteeredbutheappearedtoacceptthe Brahmin'sauthoritywithoutquestion. 'That'swonderful,'Isaid.Twillneedalitre,'andstartedtofishinmypockets. 'No,no,goodSir.Afterwardsyoucanpay.Nowhewillgo.' TheBrahmin'sprophecywasinstantlyfulfilled.Themanturnedhisbicycleand went.TheBrahminthenmentionedagain,asamatterofpurelyacademic interest,thathewaspoor,thistimeaddingthatIwasrich.Ifeltthathewas strivingtowardssomekindofdialoguewhichwouldresult,withouthiseven havingtowishit,inmyturningmyfortuneovertohimandcontinuingonfoot.This mightwellhavehappenedinancientIndianlegend,butIwasnottheWarriorhe tookmefor,andhewasnotSageenoughforme,thoughhehadaslyairabout him. SoIwithdrewpolitelyfromtheconversationandsatatthefootofthetreetowrite andtakepleasureintheafternoon.ItwasFebruary.Thelightwasstillcooland golden,andtherewaspeaceheretoo,akindofdetachmentthatIfoundonly rarelyinpublicplacesinIndia.Itseemedaperfecttimetoputdownonpaper whathadbeenaccumulatinginmymindsincetheday,fourdaysback,whenI mademygreatmistake. InthethreeyearsofmyjourneyIhadnevermadeanerrorlikeit.Ihadplannedto ridetoCalcuttafromDarjeeling,alongrideforonedayonIndianroads,butthe highwayisbetterthanmost.ItparallelstheborderofBangladeshand,forpartof theway,runsincompanywiththeGanges.WhatIhadactuallydoneonmeeting theGangeshadbeentotakethehighwaythatrunsupstreamtoPatnaand Benares.ButhadIdoneit?Therewasnorecollectionofchoice.Ihadfollowed theholyriver,secureintheknowledgethatitwasflowingonmyrighthandside, unawarethatIhadcrosseditinaconfusionofstreamsandbridgesandwason thewest sideandnottheeast.WhenIhadnoticedmymistakeIhadalreadytravelledone hundredandfiftymilesintheoppositedirectiontoCalcutta,asufficientdistance tochangemylife. Whyhadn'tInoticedwherethesunlay?Orwhichwaytheriverwasflowing?Or thatIhadcrossedintoBiharfromWestBengal?Ipridedmyselfthatthese observationshadbecomesecondnaturetome.Whyhadtheyfailedmethere? Thisenormousdeflectioninmypathhadledmestraighttowardstheheartand soulofIndia,tothebirthplaceofBuddhismandthemostsacredHinduplaces.On examinationmyreasonsforrushingtoCalcuttahadseemedtrivial,banal,though still,inmytiredandconfusedstate,desirable.Then,sadlyatfirst,Ihad abandonedthemandembracedinsteadthisstrangequirkinmydestiny.Ithad ledtoremarkableexperiences,thelastofwhichhadfoundmeinaglider,high abovePatna,whirlinginathermalcurrentalongsideaflockofbigbrown ferociousbirdsofprey. Allthistookawhiletorecord,andIstillkeptthepleasantsenseofhavingbeen nudgedtowardssomefatefulevent.MyBrahminhaddriftedaway,tiredof explainingmetoeverypasserby.Hisemissarytothevillagehadnotreturned.I stoodupand,assomethingtodo,beckonedtoanapproachingcar.Itwasa polishedlimousinedrivenbyachauffeur.Twofatwomen,lollingintheback,

observedmewithamusement,whilethechauffeurintensifiedhisglareattheroad aheadandacceleratedpastme.Atthesametimealorrywascomingtowards themfromGaya.Thelorrymovedfurtheroutintotheroad,andthecarwas driven,screechinghorribly,intoashallowditch.Thelorrydriversmiledatmeand helduphisthumb,andIgrinnedmyappreciation. AfewminuteslatertwomenonanEnfieldmotorcyclestoppedjustbeyondme andwalkedback.Thedriverwouldhavegoneon,butthepillionriderinsistedon stoppingand,asitturnedout,hewastheownerofthemachine.Hewasayoung man,stubbilybuiltandveryshorteveninhisstylishhighheeledshoes.Hewore tightlyfittingflaredtrousers,anembroideredyellowwaistcoatandamagenta turbanofthekindusedbymembersoftheRajputorKshatryacaste.Hisbearded facecarriedanexpressionofalmostunbearablesolemnity,likeaboytryingto showrespectatafuneral.AtfirstIthoughthewasinthegripofextremesadness, buttheexpressionnevervaried,andinfacthewasonthewaytohisbrother's marriageceremonyandanoccasionofgreatjoy. Eventually,betweenus,wesolvedmyproblem.Itinvolvedmanypeople, includingaretiredviceChancellorofMagadhUniversityfromwhosecarburettor wepumpedthenecessarylitre,anditwasverysatisfyingtoallconcerned.The shycyclistalsoreturnedfromthevillage,withoutpetrol,andsmiledmosthappily toseeusallatwork.Hewouldacceptnothingbutawarmhandshakeforhis trouble.TheviceChancellorleftforGaya,havinginvitedmetodroproundfortea. ThenIalsorodeoff,withescort,onmywaytoaRajputwedding. Andtheybroughtonthedancinggirls. Thereweretwogirls,butonlyoneofthemdancedatanyonetime,whilethe othersatbetweenthetablaplayerandtheviolinist. Wewereseveralhundredmensittingonsheetsofthickwhitecottonspreadover anareaoftwentyfeetbyfortyfeetorso.Thedayhadgone,andtheskywas replacedbyagreatmulticolouredawninglitwithfluorescenttubes.Mostofthe menworesuits,thoughonlytheoldestkepttheirjackets.Naturallyweallhadour shoesoff,andtheywererangedroundtheedgeofthetent.Myfriend,whose namewasRaj,warnedmemournfullytowatchoutformythings.Already,he said,fourpairsofshoesandtwosuitcaseshaddisappeared. Theairwasatthatperfecttemperatureinwhichtheskinluxuriates,andscented bytheincensestickssmoulderinginfrontofthebridegroom.Thegroomlayback onathroneofbolstersandquilts,withhispaternalgrandfatherononesideand thepunditontheother,bothalertanduprightandwithbrightyellowturbanson theirheads.Thegroomseemedquitedetached,hiseyesbarelyopen.'Hehas beenfastingfortwodays,'murmuredRaj.'Hewillnoteatuntiltomorrowafterthe wedding.' Tworifleslayoncushionsinfrontofthegroompointingoverourheads.At significantmomentstheywouldbefiredtofrightenoffhostiletribes,fortheRajput areawarriorcaste. Theprincipaldancinggirlheldthefloormostofthetime.Shewasmyfavourite too,althoughhershapewasfarfrommyideal.Herarmsandshoulderswere impeccableandmovedwithsinuousgrace,andherfacewasfullandpretty.The restofherwaswrappedtightinbodiceandsari,butsheproudlymaintainedan enormousandagilepaunchwhichseemedsomehowtobemucholderthanshe was.Ifoundmyselfwatchingitagreatdeal,amazedatthelibertiesittook,but distractedasIwasbyherbellyIcouldnotignoreherface.Withtrueartistryshe

hadcreatedanexpressionofsuchsupremecontemptformenthatifIhadbeen aloneinaroomwithherIwouldundoubtedlyhavewitheredbeneathherscorn. Andjustassurely,ifithadsoftenedtowardsmeatall,Iwouldhavefallenintoa stateofdeepestbliss. Itmusthavebeenfoundedinbitterpersonalexperience. 'Theyareprostitutes,youknow,'Rajwhispered,inavoicechargedwithdarkest meaning,andIsawthatthishadtobethemostimportantthingabouther. Thedanceitselfwasastrangeandfragmentarything,andatfirstIthoughtitquite ineffectualandhardlyworththetenrupeenotesthatshepeeledoffheraudience andpassedtothetablaplayer.Shewouldstand, tappingonehennaedfoot,shakingtheanklebells,swayingtothebeat,and arrangeherbodyintooneofseveralpositions,perhapsahipandshoulder pushingforward,legsslightlybent,headtiltedtooneside.Then,catchinga particularphrasefromthemusicians,shewouldshuffleforwardacrossthecloth, movingwhatevertherewastobemoved(thebellymovingitselfinperfect harmony),forjustsixsteps,beforestraighteningup,lettingherarmsfalltoher sides,andsweepinguswithastupendouspoutthatsaidquiteplainly'There,you bastards.' Inthosesixstepsshesaideverythingtherewastosayaboutmenandwomen. Mostofthetimeshemerelyswayedandsang,gesturingmechanicallywithher smooth,lovelyarms,makingnottheleastefforttoputmeaningorfeelingintothe song.Menshoutedinsultsather,elderscastigatedherforbeingtoogreedyor orderedhertomoderateherbehaviour.Shealwaysdidasshewastold,but alwaysherscorntriumphed.AndIfoundmyselflongingtosee,justonemore time,thosesixderisivesteps. Whenshestoppedtorestandherreliefcameon,andwhenIwasnotbeing crossexaminedbyotherguestsabouteverymostintimatedetailofmylife,my eyeswouldseekoutthefatherofthebridegroom.Healsoworethebrilliant yellowturban,butsatamongthecrowd.CleanshavenandlesssolemnthanRaj, heneverthelesshadatoughandimperturbablemannerandhissmilewas controlledanddistant.IwatchedhimbecauseIhadbeguntowonderwhetherhe wasthereasonIhadfoundmyselffollowingsuchunexpectedpathsduringthe previousdays.OneofthefirstthingsRajhadtoldmeabouthisfamily,whenwe stoppedforbeeronourwaytotheweddingwasthathisfatherhadgreatpowers. Hewasaclairvoyant,aseer,hecouldreadaman'ssoulanddestiny. 'Hewilltakeyourhandandtellyouthingsaboutyourself.Hehasdonethisfor manypeople.Itistooimportant.Hewilldoitforyou.'Rajwasbecomingmorosely excitedbytheidea. 'Palmistry,'Isaid. 'No.No.Notpalmistry.Youwillsee.' Andseveraltimesafterhehadintroducedmetohisfatherheaskedme:'Hasmy fathertoldyouyet?' Butno,hehadwantedtowait,fortherighttime,foraquietmoment,andsincein theireyesIhadbecomeanimportantguest,havingbeengiftedtothem,asit were,myfateandhehadareputationtosustain,Ifanciedthathewasprobably lookingatmetoofromtimetotimewhenIwasn'tlookingathim. Longaftermidnight,whentheflowoftenrupeenoteshadceasedandthe dancinggirlshadwiltedaway,weallstretchedoutonthefloorandwenttosleep, withourwalletstuckedunderourheads.Atthebride'shouse,afarmbuilding

aboutthreehundredyardsawaywhereotherfestivitieswerebeingheld,the loudspeakerswereswitchedoffandthelastHindipopsongwentrollingaway underthemoonacrossthegreatluminousplainsofNorthernIndia.Thelightsin thetentwentout,butthecurtainofcolouredlightsthatcoveredonewholesideof thebride'shousefromrooftogroundwentonglowing,atleastuntilIwentto sleep. Thefollowingmorning,afterwehadallwanderedoffintotheappropriatefield, andwashedatthepump,andbreakfasted,thebrideandgroomcametogetherat last.Theywereledintoasmall,cloisteredcourtyardwhichformedtheheartof thebride'sfamilyhouse.Theretheysatoncushionswiththebride'spundit betweenthemandthegroom'spunditonherotherside,andasmanyofusas couldmanagecrammedintotheremainingspace.Tomyamazement,and enlightenment,thechiefdancinggirlwasalsotherewithhermusicians.Thebride wasobscuredbyveils,flowersandabrilliantweddingsari.Thegroomworea paperhatfromwhichsproutedandhunganextraordinaryarrayoftinsellyobjects. TomyWesterneyehelookedlikesomethingbetweenaChristmastreeandan oldfashionedMartian,andhisfacealsowasinvisiblebehindthethingsdangling fromhishat. Thebride'spundithadsomesheetsofpapertornfromanexercisebookand coveredwithsacredtextswhichhereadinaharshjabber,stoppingfrequentlyto decipheranillegibleword,ortoseekcounselwiththeotherpundit.Meanwhile thedancinggirlandthemusicianssangandplayedthesamesexysongsasthe nightbefore,andpeoplechattedloudlytoeachothertryingtomakethemselves heard.Thegroomalsohadtoperformvariousmovementsatcertainpointsinthe ceremony,likespooningmilkwithafoldedleaffromacrockontoapatof smoulderingcowdung.Atonetimehehadtodothiswithaclothheldinfrontof hisface,thoughitisunlikelythathecouldseemuchanyway.Ithoughthisordeal wasquiteawful.Halfstarved,stifledbyfartoomuchclothing,blindedand envelopedbythemostshatteringdin,andpropelledthroughthesecomplicated symbolicacts,Iwonderedwhetheranypartofhimremainedquietenoughto knowthemeaningofitall.Itlookedtomelikeaceremonydevisedbywomenin revengeforalltheoverbearingauthorityandpompositythatanIndianhusbandis capableof. AfterhalfanhournoendseemedinsightandIlefttowalkoutsideforawhile. Everythingandeverybodywasatpeace.Inoticedclearlyhowallthemanmade structures,themudwalledhousesandcowsheds,grainstores,tanks,irrigation channelsandhayricks,wereatonewiththeearthandthetrees.Apoorand backwardharmony,somewouldsay,bestappreciatedfromadistance,butsurely theremustbesomemiddleway... Myappointmentwithdestinywasapproaching.Raj'sfatherwasgettingreadyto leaveforhisofficeinPatna. 'Come,'hesaid.'We'llsitinthecar.' Wesatturnedtowardseachother,andhesaid: 'Givemeyourhand.' Ihelditout,andhegraspeditasinahandshake,buthelditinhisgripforseveral moments.Then,releasingithegavemythumbaquickbackwardflip,and murmured,'Achcha!' 'Youhaveaverydeterminedsoul.Thisalsoisreflectedinyourmind. 'YouareJupiter...'

Whynot,Ithought.Ilikethesoundofthat. TroublewithMars Officiallythejourneybeganatsixp.m.onSaturdaythesixthofOctober,1973. TheannouncementwastoappearthefollowingmorningintheSundayTimes.I hadjuststeppedoutofthenewspaperofficewithalastarmfuloffilmandother oddments,andIhadseenthestoryinproof. MARATHONRIDEROFF TedSimonleftEnglandyesterdayonthefirstlegofhis50,000milemotorcycle journeyroundtheworld.Etc,etc. Ireallyhadtogo. Itwasnotanauspiciousday,farfromit.UnknowntomeitwastheJewish holiday,YomKippur.Moreimportantly,itwasthedaychosenbytheEgyptian HighCommandtobeginadevastatingassaultonIsrael.Soonaftermiddaythe radiobegantoreportmassiveattacksonIsraelipositionsintheSinai.Bytheend oftheafternoontheMiddleEastwasatwaragain.The'YomKippur'War. ThewarlayrightacrosstherouteIhadbeenplanningandpreparingforsix months.Ithoughttheyhaddoneitonpurpose.Maybeyouknowhowitiswhen youhavedecidedtodosomethingreallyenormouswithyourlife,somethingthat stretchesyourresourcestothelimit.Youcangetthefeelingthatyouare engagedinatrialofstrengthwiththeuniverse.Dockstrikes,assassinations, revolutions,droughts,thecollapseoftheWesternworld,allthosethingsyou usuallysay'hohum'tointhepapersbegintolookasthoughtheyweredesigned aspartofyourpersonalfate.Imean,IhadtroubleenoughwiththeEthiopians overtheirMoslemguerrillas,withtheTriumphfactorygoingonstrike,withthe Libyansrunningaholycrusadeintheirvisadepartment.Butafullscaletankwar, Ithought,wasgoingabittoofar. TherouteofmyfirstseventhousandmilestoNairobihadbecomesofamiliarto methatitlitupinmyheadatthetouchofabuttonlikethosemapsintheParis Metrowiththeirstringsoflittlecolouredbulbs.IknewIwasutterlycommittedto thatroutebyathousandconsiderations,climatic,financial,geographicand emotional.WarornowarIwouldhavetogothrough,butitfilledmewith trepidation.TheonlyconsolationIcouldfindwasthatfatehadobviouslymarked meoutforsomethingspecial.Iftheomensweredark,theywereatleast vigorous.Itseemeduncanny.Ifeltblessedandcursedatthesametime.Star crossed. IstoodaloneinthegutterwithmyladenTriumphintheblackandrainynight, fumblingwithmyparcelsandwonderingwheretopackthem.Iwaswearingalot ofclothingIstillhadnotfoundroomforonthebike,inparticularanoldRAFflying jacketand,overthat,awaterproofanorak.Theanorakwastootight.Togetiton atallIhadfirsttostuffthejacketinsideitandthenstruggletopullthiswholerigid assemblydownovermyhead.Itusuallytookseveralminutesandmadean amusingspectacleattheroadside,butIwassentimentallyattachedtothejacket anddidnotwanttospendmoneyonanotherwaterproof.Theeffect,onceinside, wasexcellentforsittingstillincolddrivingrain,butmovementwasawkwardand robotlike,andproducedalotofheat. DropsofsweatrolledintomyeyesasIstruggledandjuggledwiththepackages, unabletoputthemdown,becauseeverysurfacewasstreamingwithwater,

unabletofindspaceanywhere,foreverylastcreviceseemedtobepackedwith something. AGoodLuckpostcardfromafriend,whichhadtouchedmedeeply,felltothe pavementandIwatchedhelplessasthewritingdissolvedintherainandtheinky waterwashedaroundmyboots.This,Ithought,wasnottheheroicdepartureI hadenvisaged. IlookedattheabsurdlyoverloadedTriumphstandingnexttomeinthegutterand hadmyfirstcruelglimpseoftherealityofwhatIwasembarkingon.Myvisionhad beendazzledbythepurpledramaofwarfareandbanditry.NowIsaw,withawful clarity,thatalargepartofmylifehenceforthwouldbedevotedtothedailygrind ofpackingandunpackingthispoor,dumbbeast. 'It'simpossible,'Iwhispered. Forweeksithadbeenanenthrallinggame,ameditation,andattimesan obsession,wonderingwhattopackandwheretopackit.Themajordepartments wereFood,Clothing,Bed,Tools,FirstAid,Documents,CamerasandFuel.The Kitchenwasprettymuchestablishedinoneofthesideboxes.Ihadaneat Optimuspetrolstoveinitsownaluminiumsaucepananonstickfryingpanwitha foldinghandleapairofnestingstainlesssteelmugssomeillassortedcontainers forsalt,pepper,sugar,tea,coffeeandsooncutlery,atinopenerwitha corkscrew,matchesandawaterbottle. Theproblemswerethesamehereasintheotherdepartments.Onehadtofillthe spacecompletelyandstopthingsfromrattling,breaking,unscrewingthemselves, leakingandrubbingagainsteachother.Thetemptationwastostuffthespaces betweenthehardobjectswithodditemslikebandages,sparegloves,toiletpaper andsocks.Theresultswereimpressiveintermsofinsulation,butasthesoftware spreadevery whereamongstthehardwareitbecameimpossibletorememberwhereanything was,ortogetatit,ortonoticewhenitwasmissing. Thesubtletiesofpackingahouseandgarageintotheequivalentoffoursuitcases canonlybelearnedwithexperience.AtthattimeIwasstillattheloaded wheelbarrowstage,andthebikelookedandfeltlikeit. TheWardrobewasintheBedroom,andthatwasinarednylonrucksackwhich layacrossthebikebehindmysaddle.ThetheorywasthatifeverIbrokedownin ajungleIwouldhavearucksacktowalkoffwith.Itcontainedasweater,spare jeans,longwoollenunderpants,anumberofshirts,socksandshorts,andan impeccablewhitelinenjacketreservedforgardenpartiesonthelawnsoftropical embassies.TheBedroomconsistedofalightonemantent,amosquitonetthe sameshapewhichcouldbesupportedonthesamepoles,adownsleepingbag withacottonliner,andasmallinflatableairbed. Strappeddownbeneaththerucksackweretwosealedgalloncansofoilintended ultimatelytobeusedassparefuelcontainers.Therucksackwashighenoughto actasabackrest,andwasheldbyalongelasticcord. Behindtherucksackwasafibreglassbox.ThiswasCasualtyandPhotographic.I wasblessedwithamedicalarsenalofgreatpowerandflexibility,assembledby someveryconscientiousfriends.Aswellasvariousantibioticsandotherdrugs andsalves,Ihadbandagesofeverydescription,dressingssuitablefor amputationsandthirddegreeburns,tweezersforextractingbulletsand disposablescalpelsforperformingmyownappendectomies.Inscrewtopbottles Iwasgivensomehorrendouswhitestuffforbodylice,andastrangemixtureof

codliveroilandglucosewhich,theysaid,wasanoldnavalremedyfortropical sores.PackedinwithallthisweretwoPentaxcamerabodies,threelensesand threedozenaluminiumcanistersoffilm,andunderitall,todeadenthesound,lay apairofcarefullyironedandfoldedwhitetrousersinaplasticbagtoaccompany thelinenjacketatconsularcocktails. TheWorkshopwasslungoneithersideofthepetroltankintwocanvasbags, andtheOfficesatontopofthetankinazipupbagwithamapholder.Annexed totheOfficewastheBathroomconsistingofaratherluxuriousspongebaganda rollofpaper. Theremainingsideboxhadtocopewiththebiggestdepartmentofall, Miscellaneous.Hereweretwoinnertubes,apiston,shoes,waterproofgloves,a torch,avisor,andahundredthingsIhadcollectedthathadnootherhometogo to. IknewIhadtoomuchstuff,buttherewasnologicalwaytoreduceit.Someof theproblemwas,ofcourse,puresentiment.HowcouldIjunkanythingasunique andexoticasamixtureofcodliveroilandglucose?Itwasworthcarryinground theworld,worthevencultivatingasore,toseewhetheritworked.ButgenerallyI wasonthehornsoftheforkandspoondilemmaifyoutakeafork,whynota spoon,ifsaltthensurelypepperifyouaregoingtoridefiftythousandmilesona motorcyclethenatleastyouwanttoliecomfortablyatnight.TherewasnothingI hadnotchosencarefully,anditalwaysseemedthattheleastimportantthings werealsothesmallestandlightestandleastworthdiscarding. Howcanoneanticipatetheunknown?Preparingforthejourneywaslikelivinga paradox,likeeatingthecakebeforeI'dhadit.MorethanonceIrealizedthe absurdityofwhatIwasdoing.Thewholepointandbeautyofthejourneywasnot knowingwhatwouldhappennext,butIcouldnothelpmyselfstrivingtoworkitall outinadvance.MymindbecameakaleidoscopeofscenariosthatIhadconjured upoutofmyimaginaryfuture,showingMeCrossingtheAndesMeinaJungle MeinaMonsoonMeFordingaTorrentMeCrossingaDesert. ThemysterydeepenedthemoreItriedtopenetrateit.Iboughtandpackedbitsof thisandthatforemergencieswhich,whenlookedatinadifferentlight,seemed likethepurestoffantasies.Asnakebitekitlikearubberthimble,afieldcompass, stormmatches,aspaceblankettostaveoffdeathonanicefield,allbeckonedto mefromtheshelvesofthebigcampingshops,andwhentheyweresmallenough Itookthem.Butitwasbeyondmetoimaginemyselfsteeringacompasscourse acrossawilderness,beingmaroonedonaglacier,orwantingtoboilwaterina cyclone. AndwhocanwalkalongthepavementsoftheCityofLondonandseriously contemplatetheprospectofbeingstruckbyacobra? Isuspendedmyjudgementandwentonaddingtomypocketuniverselikean agnosticcrossinghimselfbeforebattle. InalinenbeltnexttomyskinIcarried500intraveller'scheques.Inablack walletlockedintooneoftheboxesweresmallamountsofcashincurrencies rangingfromcruzerostokwachas.Inthebank,orpromised,Ihadover2,000.I consideredthatwithallthisIhadenoughmoneytogoroundtheworld,buywhatI needed,andtaketwoyearsdoingit. FuelcostsIestimatedat300,shippingcostsat500.Itwas1973.Petrolin Europecostaroundadollaragallon,andthereweretwodollarsandfortycents tothepound.Thewar,whichcametobecalledtheOilWar,hadjustbegun.

Inflationwasconsideredbadatfivepercent.Icouldallowmyself2aday,on average,forfoodandoccasionalaccommodation,andconsiderthattobe generous.730daysat2comesto,say,1,500.Grandtotal:2,300,leaving 200fortroublesandtreats.Crazyarithmetic,butthebestIcoulddo.HowwasI toknowtheworldwasabouttochange,nothavingbeenthereyet? TheideaoftravellingroundtheworldhadcometomeonedayinMarchthat year,outoftheblue.Itcamenotasavaguethoughtorwishbutasafullyformed conviction.ThemomentitstruckmeIknewitwouldbedoneandhowIwoulddo it.WhyIthoughtimmediatelyofamotor cycleIcannotsay.Ididnothaveamotorcycle,norevenalicencetorideone,yet itwasobviousfromthestartthatthatwasthewaytogo,andthatIcouldsolve theproblemsinvolved. Theworstproblemswerethesillyones,likefindingabiketotakethedrivingtest on.IresortedtoshamelessbegginganddeceittoborrowthesmallbikeIneeded. TherewasaparticularlythrillingoccasionwhenIturnedupattheYamahafactory ontheoutskirtsofLondontotakeasmall125cctrailbikeout'ontest'.Ihadmy Lplateshiddeninmypocket,butfirstIhadtogetoutofthefactorygateslooking asthoughIknewhowthegearsworked.Thosewerethefirst,andsomeofthe hardestyardsIeverrodenowitcanbetold. IfailedmyfirstdrivingtestandIthoughtImightjustaseasilyfailthesecond. Sincethatwouldnotdoatall,Iobtainedafraudulentlicenceandwasquite preparedtogooffwiththat,butfortunatelyitturnedouttobeunnecessary,and mylifeofcrimeendedthere. IwasluckytogetthesupportoftheSundayTimes,andinparticularitsEditor, HaroldEvans,anditwaspartlytoacknowledgemygoodfortunethatIchoseto ridetheTriumphratherthantheBMW.TheBritishmotorcycleindustryhad crashedtoitslowestpointeverandIfeltthatajourneystartedinEnglandand sponsoredbyagreatBritishnewspaperoughttobedoneonaBritishbike.The decisiongavemesomeheartacheslateron,butnorealregrets.Italwaysfeltlike therightthingtohavedone,whichwasallimportant. ThebikewasessentiallythesameTriumphthathadbeenontheroadsfor decadesasimple,solidpieceofengineering,difficulttobreakandeasytorepair. Itwasaverticaltwin,withpistonsthatmovedupanddowninunisonandhada reputationfordrillingthemarrowoutoftherider'sbones,butIhadlow compressionpistonsthatallowedmetorunonlowgradefuelandalsoflattened outthevibration.Infactitwasacomfortablebiketoride.Itwasthe500ccTiger Hundredthathadbeenusedbythepolice.Itssinglecarburettorwaseasierto tuneandmoreeconomicalthanthetwincarburettorsoftheDaytona.Goodpetrol gavemesixtyfivemilestoagallon,sothatevenastandardthreegallontank offeredarangeofnearlytwohundredmiles.Ithadhigh,widehandlebarssothatI couldsitupandtakenoticeasIwent,andgoodgroundclearancetotakeme overroughgoing.Anditwaslightaswellassturdy.Ofallthebiggermachinesit wasthelightestbythirtypoundsormore,theequivalentofaboutthreegallonsof petrol. Wehadplannedallsortsofinterestingmodificationsatthefactory,alistaslong asasheetoffoolscap,butwhenthetimecametofetchit,Iwasluckytogeta machineatall.Theworkershadjustdecidedtolockthemanagementout,itwas theendoftheroadfortheoldstyleTriumphcompany,andIthinkmybikewas thelastonetoleavethefactoryforaverylongtime.Itwastotallyunmodified,and

sohastilypreparedthatapintofoilfelloutofthechaincaseonmywaydownthe MlfromCoventry. IknowTriumphsaresupposedtoleakoil,butthisisridiculous. Butitwasnothing,apapersealslippedinassembly,easilyputright.Youcould stoptheoilifyoutookthetrouble.ThatwaswhatBritishbikesliked,abitof trouble.Theythrivedonattention,likecertainpeople,andrepaidyouforit.Nota badrelationshiptohave. Wegotonwelltogetherfromthestart.Ithoughtofusasconstitutingasortof spacecapsulethatcouldtravelatwill,atleastintwodimensions,unconstrained bytheneedforhotels,shops,restaurants,goodroads,bottledwaterandsliced bread.IwasaimingatselfsufficiencybecauseIwantedtotraveltheway Livingstonedid,orColumbusasthoughanythingcouldhappenandallofitwas unknown.Itwasgoingtobethejourneyofalifetime,ajourneythatmillions dreamofandnevermake,andIwantedtodojusticetoallthosedreams. Inspiteofwarsandtourismandpicturesbysatellite,theworldisjustthesame sizeiteverwas.ItisawesometothinkhowmuchofitIwillneversee.Itisno tricktogoroundtheworldthesedays,youcanpayalotofmoneyandflyroundit nonstopinlessthanfortyeighthours,buttoknowit,tosmellitandfeelit betweenyourtoesyouhavetocrawl.Thereisnootherway.Notflying,not floating.Youhavetostayonthegroundandswallowthebugsasyougo.Then theworldisimmense.Thebestyoucandoistraceyourlong,infinitesimallythin linethroughthedustandextrapolate.IdrewthelongestlineIpossiblycould,that couldstillbeseenasfollowingacourse. GenerallythegreatoverlandjourneysfollowtheAsianlandmassEastuntilthe travellerisatlastforcedtotaketothewateratSingapore.Ichoseadifferentway becauseIwaspowerfullyattractedbythechallengeofAfrica,andingreataweof ittoo.IfIcouldconquerAfrica,IthoughtIwouldbeabletofacetherestofthe worldwithconfidence. SoIchoseAfrica,andlogicprescribedtherest.CapeTownlednaturallytoRio deJaneiro.Acruiseshipsailedthatroutethreetimesayearatveryreasonable rates,andasanactoffaithIbookedmypassagefor24February1974.FromRio alongloopoffifteenthousandmilesroundSouthAmericawouldbringmeupthe PacificcoasttoCalifornia.AcrossthePacificthepicturewasmoreconfused. Chinawasonlyinterestedinreceivingcoachparties,andSouthEastAsiawas seethingwiththewarinVietnam,buttherewasJapan,Australia,Indonesia, MalaysiaandThailand.CominghomethroughIndiaseemedabsolutelyright. ThatwasachallengeIwouldbebetterpreparedtomeetafterbeinglooseinthe worldforawhile. DutifullyIcollectedinformationaboutPacificfaresandsailings,about roadconditionsintheAndes,ferryservicesinIndonesia,theweatherinNorthern Australia,butitwasallfoolishnessandatheartIthinkIknewit.WhenIspread theMichelinmapsofAfricaonthelivingroomfloor(andtheymustbethemost beautifulroadmapsevermade),whenIgazeddownattheenormityofthat continent,thephysicalvarietyandpoliticalcomplexityofit,andwhenIconsidered mycompleteignoranceofit,CapeTownseemedasdistantasthemoon. Whatpoint,then,inworryingaboutthestars.Itwasenoughtoknowtheywere thereandthatIwasheadingforthem.Ithoughtmyselftobethemostfortunate manalivetohavethewholeworldalmostliterallywithinmygrasp.Therewasno oneonearthIwouldhavechangedplaceswith.

OrsoIthoughtuntilthatblacknightonthepavementofGray'sInnRoad,whenI stooddrippingrainwater,sweatanddespair,crushedbytheunwieldinessofthe monsterIhadcreated,andtheenormityoftheprospectIhadinventedformyself. Onlythreeyardsaway,behindthethickglassdoorsoftheSundayTimeslobby, wasthebrightandcomfortableworldthatsuitedmostpeoplewellenough.Icould seethecommissionaire,smoothlyuniformedbehindhisdesk,lookingforwardto apintofbeerandaneveningwiththetelly.Peopleinsensiblelightweightsuits, withinterestingjobsandhomestogoto,flauntedtheirsecurityatmeandIfeltmy gutscreamatmetostripoffthisridiculousoutfitandrushbackintothatlightand thefamiliarinterdependence.ItstruckmeveryforcefullythatifIwentonwiththis follyIwouldforeverafterbethemanoutsideinthegutterlookingin.Fora momentIwaslostbeyondhope,utterlydefeated. ThenIturnedawayfromallthat,somehowfumbledmypackagesaway,goton thebikeandsetoffinthegeneraldirectionoftheEnglishChannel.Within minutesthegreatvoidinsidemewasfilledbyarushofexultation,andinmy solitarymadnessIstartedtosing. AllthewayIwassayinggoodbye. Goodbyetoparentsandfriends,goodbyetoLondon.GoodbyetoSnodlandon theCanterburyroad,alwaysgoodforalaugh.Goodbyetothelambsand oasthousesandorchardsofKent.GoodbyetoFridaynightpissupsandSaturday footballandSundayroasts. InDoverIboughtabigblueandwhitegolfingumbrellafor4.HowcanIexplain suchcraziness?Itfittedneatlyalongsidethebike. GoodbyetotheWhiteCliffs,toBoulogneandthesugarbeetofPicardie,to Grandvilliers('SonParking,SaZoneIndustrielle')tothesaucissonofBeauvais andtheParisPeripherique,allintimatelyknowntomeforadecadeormore. InOrleansIsleptinahotelandbaskedintheadmirationofagarageproprietor.'I ownedmanyEnglishmotorcycles,AJS,Norton,Matchless, Sunbeam.Iwantedtomakeajourneylikeyours,but...'Heshrugged.'Allthis Japaneserubbishtheymakenowadays.'Nottrue,butIappreciatedthe sentiment,sogoodbyetohimtoo,andtothefogoverthetreelinedavenuesand thehighpassesandthefairycitadelofSt.Flour,allsofamiliarbutallseenwith freshwonderbecauseofwhereIamgoing,becauseofknowingthatmaybe, possibly,Imightnotquitemakeitbackhereagain. AndtheswoopdownintoMillauwhereIjust,andonlyjust,missbeingkilled.With mylungsfullofadrenalinIshout'Madman!Assassin!'attheblindcommuterwho overtookmeinhislivercolouredSimcaandpushed|meofftheroadagainsta stonewall.Isqueezedpastonthedirt,veryshaken.HowcanIpossiblyanticipate suchinsanity?YetImust,somehow,tosurvive.Iwillsurvive.Remember,then, thatoutsidecities,towardsevening,whenthelightisfailing,peoplearedriving homeinahurry,tiredandboredbytheirwork.Andyouwillbegoingtheother way,alsotired.Soattheendoftheday,whenyou'reanxioustogoquick,SLOW DOWN. Lodeve.ALastNightinmyhouse.HowcanIbeartoleavesomethingso beautiful?Thecontradictionistoopainful,andthepainmakesmeanxioustobe gone. Thereareothergoodbyestoodelicateandtoofraughtwithemotiontobewritten aboutinpassing,forIhavelivedawhile.OnmywaydownthroughEuropeIlearn thevalueoftheloveIamabandoning.AttimesIexperienceadegreeofmisery

andlovelessnessIhavenotknownsinceadolescence.IwonderwhetherIwill havethecapacityevertobearsuchpainagain.Itoccurstomethatthatmaybe theconditionforperpetualyouth. Goodbyetomyunfinisheddream,tothetoastedvineyardsoftheHerault,to Montpellier,NimesandAixenProvence. InNiceIhaveafriendwhomanagesa'GrandHotel'ontheBoulevarddes Anglais,called'TheWestminster',slightlyfadedsinceitsEdwardianheydaywhen expeditionslikeminewereundertakenbygentlemen.Itstrikesmeasasuitable placefromwhichtosayaLastGoodbye,andthe'departingexplorer'posesfora picturebythepottedpalmoutsidetherevolvingdoor.Wehopedtolinethehotel staffupoutside,buttheunionwon'tallowit.SoofftoMonacoandtheItalian frontier,GoodbyetoFrance,and...Shit!I'veleftmypassportatthehotel.The departingexplorerreturnsredfacedtodepartoncemore.Dramaticfarewells,it seems,arenotforme. Enoughofthismessingabout,Itellmyself.It'stimetotakethejourneyseriously. Foronething,nomorehotels.Tonightyousleepoutandsavemoney. Monaco,Genoa,LaSpeziaand,asnightfalls,Florence.IpickupaCampingsign andfollowittoFiesolewhereIamambushedbyanEnglish coupleinasmall restaurantwhotellmetolookuptheirrelativesinSierraLeone.IfonlyIwere goingthere. Itislate.TheCampingsignleadsupaverynarrowsteephill,withagateatthe top.Thegateislockedthecampsitedeserted.Theslopeistoosteepandthe bikeistooheavy.Ican'tturnitround.ItfallsoverandIamtooweaktomoveit. Disgustedwithmyself,Iunpackit,pickitup,turnitround,repackit.Rainbegins tofall.Iwillnotgotoahotel.Atthebottomofthehillisasmallparkingplace.I putthebikeuponthecentrestand,putupmyumbrella,andgotosleepinthe saddle,lyingforwardonthetankbag.Iamamazedhoweasyitis,howlittleIcare whatothersmaythink,howlittlesleepIneed.Iamridinghighonenergy,likea surferonabigwave. ToRomeontheautostrada,butthetollsaretoohigh,andIgetoffittogosouth throughLatinaandTerracina.JustbeforeNaples,inthedark,Ifindacampsite that'sopen.Duringthelasthoursonthebike,mymoodplungedtodespair,but theworkofunpackingandcookingkeepsmiseryatbay,andabottleofwine washesitaway. ToNaplesandSalerno,andnowtheautostradaisfree.Itridesthebumpsdown thespineofItaly,awonderofengineering,alwayseithertunnellingorsoaring acrossgreatairychasms.Theweatheriswonderfultoo,hotsun,crispcleanair. OntheemptyhighwayIbegintofeeltherhythmofalong,uninterruptedride.In mostofEuropethisisimpossible,lifeissodense,intricate,amillionparishes joineduphiggledypiggledyandeverypatchintimatelyknowntosomebodyfor hundreds,sometimesthousandsofyears.IfeelIamalreadyleavingEurope.I canfeelAfricathere,sovastIamalreadywithinitsaura. Themovementhasacomplexrhythmwithmanypulsesbeatingsimultaneously. Underlyingitistheenginewithitssubtleblendofsounds,eightyexplosionsa second,camsonpushrods,pushrodsontappets,rockersonvalvestems, valvesonseats,ballbearingsrevolvingandracing,cogsmeshingandthrashing inoil,oilpumpsthrobbing,gaseshissing,chainswhippingoversprockets,allthis frenzyofmetalinmotion,amazingthatitcanlastforevenaminute,yetitwill havetofunctionforthousandsofhourstotakemeroundandhomeagain.

ThroughallthesepulsesblendingandblurringIseemtohearaslowandsteady beat,movingupanddown,upanddown,threesemitonesapart,asecondup,a seconddownasIlistenitgrowsclearer,unmistakable.IsitthereoramI inventingit?Isitthepulseofmyownbodyinterceptingthesound,modifyingit withmybloodstream?TryasIwillIcanhearnootherpulse,nootherpitch.There areotherinstrumentsintheorchestrahowever.Thelapeloftheflyingjacketflicks againstmyshoulderlikeakettledrum,myoverlongchinstrapbeatsamore complicatedtattooonthehelmet,andundeniablythereisvibrationtoo,afaint tinglespreading fromfootrests,gripsandsaddle,comfortableatfifty,distinctlyunpleasantat sixtyfiveandthenflatteningoutagainatseventy.Withfifteenhundredmileson theclockIconsiderthebikerunin,andI'mridingatseventyandover.Onthe autostradatheloadhasnoapparenteffect,untilIgoupovereightyonacurve andfeelthebeginningsofanastywobble.Isettlebacktoseventyandlean forwardtohitlessair.Afulltanktakesmealmostthreehourswithoutastop, threehoursofcontemplationandspeculation,contemplationofpastmistakes, speculationonfuturedangers.Whydoesmyminddwellsomuchonthedown sideoflife,whenthepresentissoexhilaratingandsatisfying!Ifindmyself anticipatingghastlyaccidents,desperatesituations,macabreandquiteunreal challenges,likeridingthebikeoveraropebridgeswingingacrossaPeruvian canyon,asthevinesslowlyuntwistandsnap,astrandatatime...(shadesof SanLuisRey)myheartisactuallybeatingfasterwhenIcatchontowhat's happening.It'sthe'B'moviesyndrome.Inmychildhoodtheyalwaysusedto showtwomovies,'A'and'B',thoughoftentheywereboth'B'.In'B'movies everythingspelleddisaster.Windscreenwipersatnightmeantahorrificcrash.A creakingdoor,afootstep,anoversweetsmile,a'nice'stranger,allbodedpure evil.Anythingwhatevertodowithaeroplanesorofcourseropebridges,hadyou clingingtoyourseat(orgirlfriend)waitingforthespinechillingconsequences. WasthathowIwasconditionedtoexpecttheworst?Orwerethepulpmovie makerssimplycashinginonanarchetypalhumaninstinct?7sitpossible,Iasked myselfindignantly,thatalltheseyearsyou'vebeenpalpitatingbecauseofsome cheapHollywoodcontrick.... Somethingtouchesmyfoot,andIlookdowntoseeobjectsstreamingontothe roadsurface.Oneofthecanvasbagshasstretcheddowntotherighthand exhaustpipeandcaughtfire.Halfmytoolsandsparepartsarespreadacrossthe autostrada.Theyareundamaged,thebagiseasilytiedupwithstring,andIgo on. Thereyouare,yousee.Ifyouhadimaginedit,youwouldhavehadthe screwdriverthroughyourfoot... Atfouro'clock,withanhourofdaylightleft,Iturnofftheautostradatofindaplace tocamp.Thesmallroadleadsmethroughahotanddustyland,horseandcart countrystill,CalabriaontheinstepofItaly,wherethefavouritecolourforclothes instillblack.RisingtowardthemountainsIcometoRoggiano,asmalltown bakedintothehillside,encrustedwithage,inwardlookingandshyofvisitors.In thetownsquareIhalt,uncertainwhattodobutunconcerned.Ihaveseen nowhereyettoputatent,butmynightundertheumbrellahasgivenmea strangeconfidence.Inolongercarewhathappenstome.Istoptheengine,pull offmyhelmetand,stillsittingastridethebike,lightupacigaretteandletpeace settleaboutme.Onthefurtherpavementasmallgroupofmenisassembled,all

wearingcarefullypressedsuits.Somechildrenspotmeandrushupshouting. EventuallyIwalkovertothemen,whoaredignifiedbutcurious,andataslow andeasypaceweexchangepleasantriesuntil,atlast,oneofthem suggeststhat ifIgoupthehillIwillfindan'internationalcentre'.Theywillgivemeabed.A swarmofsmallboysbearsmeandthebikelikeacarnivalfloatupthehill. The'centre'isanassortmentoflowbuildingssetamongtreesandflowering bushes.Inpartitisdevotedtothenationalcampaignforliteracy,butthereis moretoit. Ahandsomelybeardedyoungmanwelcomesmewithouthesitation,asthough sucharrivalswerecommonplace.InamatterofmomentsIamstandingina communalhalldrinkingblackcoffee.Itisservedbyayoungwomaninblack,who standsbyusgravelyaswedrink.AminuteagoIsawher,withavastbundleof laundryatleastastallasherselfbalancedonherhead.Shepassedeasily throughadoorwaywithnotaninchtospareanywhere.Suchimpressivepoise.It shouldbeanOlympicevent. Theyoungmanexplainsthatthebuildingswereerectedbypeoplefromallthe fourteenvillagesoftheEsoreValleyintheirsparetime.Therearebedroomsfor thosewhocomefromalongwayoff.Ithasafulltimestaffoffour,hisfatherand himself,anotherteacherandasecretary. Thefatherandfounder,GuiseppeZanfini,receivesmeinhisstudy.Hebeamsat mewithsuchconcentratedbenevolencethatIwantimmediatelytovotehim into office,anyoffice.Then,withoutpreamble,helaunchesdirectlyandastonishingly intohisstory. 'WhenIwaseighteenIwasafascistfrommyeyestomyboots.' Hishandsdescribetheampleportionsofhimselfwhichthatincludes. Tvolunteeredforthearmytogotowar.Iwasinanofficerschool,theninSicily, andfouryearsaftercamemyfirstrealbattle.Iheardthetoottootonthebugle.. .',hegoestoottootintohisfist,'thatmeans,"Preparearms".Iwasinthetentto pickupmygunandcleanit,andIthought"Thistimeitisnotforpapercutout figures.Thistimeyouwillhavetokillrealmen",andIknewthenIcouldn't.Notto killmenwithmotherslikemine,withchildrenmenwhohavecomefromhomes likeminewhichwillbeinmisery.' Inameasuredhushhespeaksofloveandbrotherhood,hisfaceflittingbetween solemnityandecstasy.Asthebattleprogressesheshowsgraphicallyhowothers lostahand,aneyeoraleg,andwipesimaginarybloodothermen'sbloodfrom hisface.Tearstrembleunderhislashesashereliveshismomentofconversion infrontofme,athisofficedesk. 'AfterwardstheColonelwantedtogivemeadecorationforstayingonmyfeet throughthebattle.Irefused.ItoldhimIcouldneverbringmyselftokillanother man.Hesaidheunderstoodandaskedmeonlytokeepmysentimentstomyself. ThreemonthslaterwasarmisticeandIwasabletogotouniversity.Inthenew democraticItalyIstudiedtobeateacherandIcamehometoRoggianototeach othersthatwemusthavepeacenotwar. 'ThenIsawthatourmenwerereturningfromtheprisoncampstotheirfiresides andtalkingaboutwar.Andsoonthechildreninthesquarewererushingabout going"Bang,bang"and"Boom,boom".Isawthatalthoughwehadalreadylost onewar,wewereindangeroflosinganevenbiggeronearoundthehearth.' Zanfiniisabouttoseehislastandmostextensiveprojectrealized.Afterseven yearsofbargainingandpersuasionhehasbroughtthemayorsofIthefourteen

communesofEsoresevenChristianDemocrats,fourCommunists,three Socialiststogethertoagreeononeschoolforthewholeregion.Aschoolfor children,andadultstoo. ZanfiniriseslikeCaesarandunfurlshisblueprint,whichismagicallytohand.'All this',hesays,andthereisalotofit,somethirtyormorebuildings,sportsstadium pavilion,theatreandsoon,'allthiswillcostonlyaneighthofwhatmustbespent ifeachcommuneweretobuilditsownnecessaryschool. 'Calabriahasagreed.NowwewaitonlyforRomeandtheLaw.' Hesinksmajesticallytohisseat. 'AnothermarchonRome?'Isuggestjokingly. 'Never,'hesays.'Theremustneverbeanothermarchanywhere.'Andthatsame ineffablesweetnessfloodsoverhisface.'PeaceandLove.LoveandPeace.' Iamabsolutelyconvincedofhissincerity.Hisoperaticsonlyenhancethe impression.Ifyoureallybelieveinsomething,whynotgiveitallIyou'vegot.Iam sizzlingwithexcitementathavingstumbledonsomethingsorareandpassionate. Iknowthatsomehowthemannerofmyarrivalenabledmetodrawmuchmore outofthismanandthesituation,Ifeelalivetoeverynuance,everycolour,aroma andtexture,eventhesoupstainonZanfini'sjacket. Ireallydidnotexpectthejourneytostartsosoon. InthemorningIspendanhourrepackingthebike.Everymorningit'sthesame, buttheimprovementisalwaysnoticeable.I'mgettingtheweightwhereIwantit, thebikefeelsbetter,andthere'smoreroomasthingssettleintoplace.TodayI wanttogettoPalermo.IknowitisaboutonehundredandfiftymilestoReggio wheretheferrycrossestoSicily,butafterthatIhavenoidea.Itdidnotoccurto metobringamapofItaly,solittledidEuropefigureamongmypreoccupations. TheridetoReggioisglorious,withglimpsesoftheMediterranean,asfroma smallaircraft,andthenthedropdowntothesea.Theferrychugsacrossto MessinaandapromisingnewautostradapointstoPalermo.Thenabruptly,after tenkilometres,theroadbecomesnarrow,twisting,repletewithroadworksand jammedwithunpassabletrucksthrowingundigesteddieselinmyface.Itisone hundredandfiftymoremilestoPalermo,muchfurtherthanIthoughtpossible. MostofthewayIcrawlalonginthedark.IarriveinPalermoateight,veryfar gone,andlosemyselfinamazeofimpoverishedstreets. Istop,Ihavetostopsomewhere,intheViaTorremuzzo,andtrytocollectmy wits.Afterareallylonghardride,Ifeelmybloodfizzinginmyveinsasthough suddenlydecompressed.Isitonthebike,forIdarenotleaveit,surroundedbya pressofurchins,outsideanoisybar.Inthisstrangeperiodwhenmovementhas stoppedbutthenoiseandvibrationarestillringingthroughmybody,Iseemto havestumbledintoanenchantedcanyon,populatedbycircusfreaksandthe oddercharactersoffictionfromRabelaistoDamonRunyon.Dwarfs,giants,fat men,rubbermen,sweeps,touts,pimps,slobs,whoresandbeardedladiesthrong inthespotlightsandcavernousshadowslurkbehindbeadcurtainsandmake theatricalappearancesonimpossiblebalconiesamongoutrageousarticlesof underwear.Afterafewmomentsmyvisionsobersdown.Muchoftheeffectis duetoalmostmediaevalstreetlighting,andawarmthinthenightairthatallows peopletodisplayalotofskin,butevensoTorremuzzoisaveryflamboyant street. Iambeat.TootiredtothinkinEnglish,letaloneItalian.WhereamI?Noidea. WhereshouldIgo?Nonotion.Thestreetlifesurgesaroundme.Ifeelahundred

sharpandhungryeyesfastenedonmybikeasonaChristmastreehungwith giftsripefortheplucking.AshamedofmyweaknessIcanthinkonlyofthe telephonenumberIwasgivenoffriendsoffriends.TheFatMan,playingcardson thepavement,saysYes,thereisatelephoneinthebar.Icarrythelooseritems ofluggageinwithme.Thefriendsoffriendsareathome.Theywillcomeinacar andfetchme.IsitwhereIcanwatchthebike,andwait.WhatwillIdowhenthere arenofriendsoffriends?Iresolvetodealwiththisquestionlater. AnIsraeliapproachesme.Yes,anIsraeli,sellinghimselfhard.DoIthink,he asks,thatifhegoesbacktoIsraelnowtheywillputhimingaolfordesertion? Whatwouldyoudo,Iask,ifyouarrivedinastrange,exoticcityatnightandhad nofriendstoturnto? Irritated,heturnsaway.It'sasIalwaysthought.Therearetwokindsofpeoplein thisworld:thosewhoaskquestionsandthosewhoanswerthem. Africa AtfirstIthoughthewasanoisy,obnoxiousfool.Hewassittingononeofthe green,slattedbenchesonthedeckoftheTunisferry,loudlyhumminganArab tune.Hisface,deeplypittedandwrinkled,wasfixedinastateofbliss,andwitha grimythumbandforefingerjoinedatthetipslikeSiamesecarrotshetracedthe courseofthemelodythroughtheair.Heasmostprobablystoned.Hisheadwas theshapeofacoconutandheawmecomingwitheyeslikeblackolivesburiedin oldgreycheese.Heworeapaddedgreencombatjacketzippeduptotheneck, patchgreytrousersandoutmodedwinklepickershoes.Hisbodyseemedtobe coconutshapedaswell.'Ah,you,yous,wasmachen.SprechenDeutsch.Ich auch.Scheisse.'ThenaburstofArabic,andIchbinHamburg,Dusseldorf, Amsterdam,Hielfraulein.Joliesfilles.Eins.Zwei.Ja.Scheisse.'Thewaveof gibberishhitmeasIwalkedtowardshim,andIthoughtitassomekindof invitationtotalk,buthebrokeoffagainandwentback"ohistrancelikesinging. TherewereotherTunisiansaround,allgrinningmadly,andIfeltembarrassed andannoyed.FormethisferrycrossingtoAfricarepresentedadecisiveleapinto theunknown,avoyagefnoreturn.AlthoughthefightingbetweenEgyptand Israelhadstopped,thoughtitmightbreakouragainatanymoment.Iwasfullof sternforebodingsandinnomoodformockery,andIshiedofftothefarrailtotalk totwoeffeteEnglishmenfromTangierwhoofferedmetheproperdegreeof respect.AsfarasIcouldsee,weweretheonlyEuropeanpassengers.Thecrew memberswereItalianandworefancybluesashesroundtheirmiddleswhichI thoughtlessthanmanly.TheothertravellerswereevidentlyTunisiansgoing homefromthegreatcasuallabourmarketsoftheNorth,dressedbytheflea marketsofEuropeandcarryingtheirbelongingsingreatcardboardboxesor papiermachesuitcasestiedwithstring.Asmyfriendsgossipedaboutthe goingsonatthecourtoftheKingofMorocco,Iwatchedthethin,hardymenwith theirenormousbundlesofstufffightingtheirwayalongthegangwaysand throughthehatches,thescapegoatsofEurope,wearingourcastoffclothing, hassledandslanderedfrombordertoborder,availabletodoanyjobtoodirtyfor awhiteman.Nowondertheylookeduglyandmorose,exceptwhengrinning.No wonderIthoughttheymighthavebeenmockingme. Afterawhilemysmartfriendsdecidedtotaketotheircabinforazizz,sincethey weretravellingfirstclass,andIwentintothemainsaloontoseehowIwould

passtherestofthetenhourcrossing.ThesaloonwasnearlyfullofArabs, stretchedoutintheupholsteredchairsandsofastryingtosleep.Istartedtalking inFrenchtomyneighbour,agentleTunisianenginedrivercalledHassen,butit wasonlyafewmomentsbeforeIbegantobeawareofthebarman.Hewas twiddlingtheknobsofthetelevisionset.Hewasangry.Thethickwhitefleshof hisfacewassetinanexpressionofstubbornconceit.Hewasliterallypig headed.ThechannelhewantedwasshowinganItalianfootballmatch.The picturewasindiscerniblethroughtheinterferencepatternsandthesoundwas merelyacrashingroarofstaticbutitseemedtosatisfyhim.Itwasplainthathe wasnotgoingtohaveanybloodywogmusicinhissaloon.Hewas!afatshort manandhispregnantbellyslungoverthesillybluesashmadehimlook unbearablypompous.Ashesteeredhisbumptiousbodybacktothebar,he kickedasidetheoutstretchedfeetofsleepingTunisiansratherthanwalkround them.Onhiswayhepickedupemptysodabottlesandflungthemskilfully halfwayacrosstheloungeintoalargecardboardboxwheretheyfellwitha regular,shatteringdin.FromthenonIwasunabletotakemyeyesoffhim. Itwastrulybreathtakingtoseeonemanseizeuponanenvironmentwhich belonged,theoretically,tohisfortyorsocustomers,anduseitforthecomplete expressionofhisownselfishanddomineeringnature.Behindthebar,hisseatof power,hegrantedorwithheldhisfavoursascapriciouslyasanydespot. Europeansheservedwithaghastlyconspiratorialgrin.Othersherefused altogether,loudly,rudely,withvulgargestures.Whensomenewcomerdaredto tamperwiththeTVheflewintoterribletantrums. Hisstruttingandposturingwereunforgettable.Hetreatedtheloungeandits occupantsashisprivatecolonyand,withgreatenergy,foundathousandwaysof showinghiscontempt(mildlyreflectedinothermembersofthecrew)whilethe restofussubmittedinourvariousways,resigned,resentfulormerelynumbed. Herepresentedinmyeyesallthatisbrutal,greedyandcorruptinhuman behaviour,andhewasapowerfulinfluenceinstimulatingmysympathyforthe Arabs.Shortofviolenceitwasobviousthatthemancouldnotbestopped. Thesingercameinalittlelater,whenitstartedtorainoutside.Hesatatthefar endoftheloungestillchantingandsmilingasthoughatsomeSufivision.Inthe confinedspacethesongsweremuchclearer.Hassensaidtheywerenonsense aboutgirlsandlove,andhewasapparentlymaking themupashewent,butatleastheofferedanalternativekindofvitalitytothe terriblemalignantpowerofthebarman. TheArabsnearesthimbegantappingandclappingalong,andothersdrifted closer,buthecontinuedforawhileasthoughhewereunawareofanyofus, playingthefoolforanotheraudiencethatonlyhecouldsee.Thebarmanwas noticeablyannoyedandthetempoofhisoutragesincreased,butalthoughhestill commandedtwothirdsofthesaloonhedidnotmeddlewiththesingerwhose territorywasgrowing.Isatforawhileontheborderlineoftheirtwospheresof influence,anditwaslikelookingoutontwodifferentworlds.Tomyleft,shouting, hostility,thesmashingofbottlesand,fromtheTV,thegibberinghowloftheether. Tomyright,singing,laughterandabeatthatwasbeginningtoreachintome. HassenandImovedacrosstotheright. Thesingerjudgedthisthemomenttocomeoutofhisprivateretreat,andbegan torespondtohisfollowers.IcouldnotimaginehowIhadeverthoughthim distasteful.Atworsthewasasimpleclown,buthispowernowseemedtogrow

asthebarman'sdwindled.Heinterruptedhisbuffoonerywithpoetry,andHassen toldmeitwasoriginalandgood.Thesamethumbandforefingerplacedthe wordsintheairwithaprecisionandmeaningthatIfeltIcouldunderstand, thoughIspokenoArabic.Thesongsalsobecamelonger,morelyrical.Slowly, overaperiodofseveralhours,thepitchofhisperformancebuiltup.Thebarman bynowwasutterlyeffaced,theTVcouldnolongerbeheard.Everyoneinthe saloonwaswiththesinger,histoaman,andyethestillseemedstrangely detachedfromus,notfeedingatallonouradulationinthemannerofaWestern 'star'.Norwasthereeveranattemptbyanyonetocompetewithhim.He remainedthefocusofenergyfortherestofthecrossing. Towardstheendhemovedfromsongsandpoetrytooratory.It*wasalong speech,andiftherhythmswereanythingtogoby,itwasintheArabequivalent ofblankverse.Hisvoicenowwasverymuscularandgritty.Theharsh,hard nosedsyllablesflewoutinformationandbeatonmyear.Hisaudiencereplied withmoansandcriesofagreement.Iimaginedthevoiceamplifiedathousand times,ahundredthousandtimes,fromloudspeakersonalltheminaretsofIslam. Thesoundsconjuredupanatmosphereofgreatferocity,yetthesenseofthe speech,itturnedout,wasmoderate.Ithadtodowithpeaceandwarinthe MiddleEast.ItpraisedthemoderatestatesmanshipofBourguiba,andpoured scornonthetroublemakerswhowouldfight,likeGhadaffiofLibya,tothelast Egyptian.Hassensaiditwasgoodsense,realisticandverypoetic. Itoothoughtatfirsthewasjustafool,butnowwhathesaysisveryimpressive.' ItwaswellafterdarkwhentheshiparrivedinTunis.BythenIhadmadeanother friend,Mohamad,ayoungTunisianwhowasoneofthesinger'smost enthusiasticaccompanists.Hewasmorestylishlydressedthanmost,withajazzy peakedcap,whichheneverremoved.Hisnickname,looselytranslatedfrom Arabic,meant'TheSwell'.HeaskedmewhereIwasgoingtostayinTunis,andI saidIhadnoidea. 'Thenyouwillstaywithme.Myfamilywillbeveryhonoured.Youwillhave everythingwecanoffer.Wewillbeextremelyproudtohavesuchafamousman inourhouseandourfriendshipwilllastforever.Ihaveadarkskinbutmysoulis whiteasalily.Youwillbesafeandwellinmyhouse.' BeforeleavingtheshipIhappenedtonoticethebarman.Heseemedarather insignificantperson,cleaningupafterus,hardlyworthbotheringwith. ArrivinginAfricawas,afterall,prettymuchlikearrivinganywhere.Youusedyour imaginationtomakeitdifferent.Therewasaharbour,apassengerterminal, officesandofficials,theusualformalitiesandindignities.Everyonespokeheavily pointedFrenchagainstabackgroundofmurmuringArabic. Theferrywasadriveon,driveoffshipandtherewasnodelayinunloading.I tookthebikeoutsidethedockgatesandwaitedforMohamad.Ihadexplained thattherewasnoroomforhimonthebikeandhehadswallowedhis disappointmentandsaidhewouldfindataxi.Iwonderedwhetherhehadinvited mesothathecouldgetalifthomeonthebike.Itseemedimportanttoexposeall theseignoblepossibilities,togetatruemeasureofhishospitality.AfterallIwas goingtowriteaboutit.Iwouldn'twanttosaythatapureflameofgenerosity burnedinhisnoble breastifallalongheonlyaskedmehomefortheride.I mean,let'sgetitright,shallwe? However,Mohamadandthetaxidulyappearedandwewoundroundthestreets ofTunisandoutintothedarkcountrysideforawhile,toarriveattheCite

NouvelledeKabaria.Itwasdifficulttograspitatnight.Mostofitwasinshadow, butitappearedtohavebeenrecentlybuiltbesideamainhighway.Isawamaze oftenfootwallsplasteredwhite.Novisible!windowsorroofs.Notlikehousesat all.Eerie.Weplungeddownadirtalleyandstoppedbyadoor. Thedooropenednot,asIexpected,intothehousebutintoasmallcemented yard.Mohamadwentfirstandthenaskedmetobringthebikeinside.Ibarely squeezedthrough.Thefatherwasstandingthereinafez,looseshirt,trousers andsandals.Hegreetedmeveryformallyand!politely,withfewFrenchwords. Theyardwasmaybetenfeetsquare,andtheroomsopenedoffitonthreesides, sothatthewholehousewas, ineffect,atinywalledfortress,withonedoorleadingout.Icouldseealreadythat theroomswereverysmall.Iwasusheredintoaroomoppositethestreetdoor, whichwaslikealittlecave.Itwasaboutsevenfeetwide,andhalfofitwasfilled withabrassbed,coveredsumptuouslybyashinycottonpilerug.Therewasabit offloorspaceandachestclutteredwithornaments,likeashrine,withanoillamp burning. Iwaslefttositthereforawhileaswhisperedconferencestookplaceoutside,and Ibegantofeelnervousaboutwhatwasgoingon,soIwentouttolook. Mohamad'smotherandtwosmallchildrenweretherewithhim,movingaboutin deepshadow.Thefiveofusandthemotorcyclefilledtheyard. Somehintofsuspicionmusthaveshowninmymovementorexpression. 'Ifyouwishtowatchoveryourmotorcycle,pleasedo,butIassureyouitissafe,' saidMohamad.Hespokegentlyandquietly,notatallthebrashboyontheship.I feltashamedandwentbacktotheroom(threestepsaway,everythingwasso close)tofindthatasupperhadbeenlaidoutonthechest.Twosmalllambchops inheavilyspicedhotsaucewithpeasandpimentos,andsomebread.Nocutlery. Iatethebreadwiththechops,andthenmadeamesshavingtoscoopupthe peasandsaucewithmyfingers.ThesauceburnedmymouthterriblyandIcould notfinishit,andthatmademefeelbadtoo.Iturnedtothedoorandaskedfor water.ThemothercameinwithajugandametalcupandIsawherfaceinthe light,smallandworn,butverycalmandtender.Thisisdefinitelynota'B'movie,I toldmyself,andfromthenonfeltabsolutelysecure. ThebedwasMohamad'sbutIwastosleeponit.Iprotested,butinvain. 'WhetheryousleeponitorI,it'sthesamething.Ifyousleeponit,itisasifIwere sleepingonit,'hesaid,offeringitasapleasureratherthanasacrifice,and thoughitwasatraditionalformulaofhospitality,maybe,itcamealiveonhislips. Ilaydownonitlikeavisitingemperor,withasmallboylyingonthefloorbymy bedside,andpreparedtofallimmediatelyintoadeepsleep,butsleepwouldnot comeforalongtime,andmyskin,whichhadbeenitchingnervouslyforsome weeks,tingledevenmorethanusual.SometimeinthenightIcamehalfoutof sleepagaintohearmuffleddrumbeatsandwhatseemedinmydreamystateto beaprocessionofphantomsmovingthroughthedarkness. Iawokewithnumblumpsallovermywristsandneckandhalfmyface.Bugs,I toldmyself.Notnervousness,notheatrash.Bedbugs.ButIrefusedtobelieveit. Thatbeautifulbed,infested?Never. Isleptonthebedthreenights.Thesecondnightwasjustasbad.ThethirdnightI gotoutmynylontentandwrappeditroundmeandthatwasbetter.Thepleasure wasMohamad's,thesacrificewasmine.

SoonthatfirstmorningIsquintedthroughmyswellingsatanAfricanday. Everybodywasupandaboutearly.Theyhadnibbledatsomethingbeforedawn becauseitwasRamadan,andforthatmonthnoMuslimmayeatwhilethesunis inthesky.Thedrumwastotellpeopleitwasbreakfasttime,butasanominal ChristianIwasexemptandhadapepperyfriedeggIndaylighttheplaceseemed evensmaller.Thereweretwootherroomsthesizeofmine.Therestofthefamily, mother,father,Mohamadandlittledaughter,sleptinoneoftheotherrooms, whichwasalsoatobaccoshop.Thefatherhadbeenaprisonwarder,andasa retiredcivilservanthequalifiedforalicencetoselltobacco.Itwasnotaroaring trade. Howtheyallfittedtogetherinthattinyspace,whytheyweren'tconstantly collidinginthedoorwayswasamatterforwonder.Therewasneveraharsh word,nohintofimpatienceorfrustration,thechildrenkepttotheirownlittleworld, seeminglycontent,lookingupfromamodestmudpiewithbigeyesfullofliquid love. Theydesignedtheirlivesaroundeachotherwiththeintricateharmonyofan orientalcarpet.Obviouslyitrequiredmuchsubmission,mostlyonthepartofthe women.Wasitsubmissionorrepression?Oradifferentviewofspace?Icould nottell. JusthowuncrowdedtheyfeltbecameclearwhenIaskedabouttheirthirdroom. Theysaidthatsincetheireldestchildrenhadmovedout,theyhadsomuchspace thattheyhadofferedtheirspareroomtoacoupleofelderlypoorrelationswho werestillsleeping.Sonowwewereeight. TherewasoneotherdoorthroughwhichIpassedafterbreakfast.Behinditwasa squaremetreofcementwithaholeinthemiddle,andajugwithaslenderspout. Iwenttogetsomepaper,andthenreturnedandsquatteddown,ratherpuzzled, becauseitwasobviousthatnobodyelseusedpaper.Ihadbeentoldmanytimes ofcourse,thatyoushouldnevergreetanArabwithyourlefthand.Itwasserious insult,becausethatwasthehandtheyusedtowipetheirbehinds,andIhad grinnedandsaid,Yes,Iknow,andsomehowIhadneverreallythoughtwhatit meantbecauseeveryonehaspaper.Don'tthey? No,theydon't.Theyhaveajugofwaterandalefthand,andthethoughtof havingtotouchmyshitwithmyownhanddisgustedme.God,itwasbadenough havingtostickyourfingersinyourfood.SoIignoredthewholeproblemand chokeduptheirlavatorywithpaper. Therewasnorunningwaterinthehouseandnoelectricity.Thehouseswereas smallastheycouldbe,andbuiltofthecheapestmaterials.Theroadsbetween themweredirt.Kabariawasaslum:anew,stilluncompletedslum.Oritwould havebeenbutforthepeoplewholivedinit.Aslum,Icametorealize,isthe peopleandnottheplace. IonlycametorealizehowmeanaplaceitwaswhenMohamad'sbrotherinlaw tookmetovisithisfatherinthecountry.Werodeoffdownthehighwayandup intosomelowhills,softlycurvedlikethebreastsofmotherearth,nourishingbig shadetreesandpeacefulolivegroves.Isawabrowncowsucklingitscalf,anda compoundofthornandcactus,andweturnedintheretoacoupleofhutssetat rightangles.Theyweremadeofmudplasteredoverwattleandyoucouldsee wherethehandshadshapedthematthecorners.Thedoorframesrevealedhow thickandsatisfyingthewallswere,likegingerbreadmaybe,toppedwiththatch, andattheirbasesattwocolourmatchedorangemarmaladecats.

Inside,thespaceswereaboutthesamesizeastheroomsatKabaria,butthis wasrealspace,undertherafters,withroomfortheimaginationtogrow.Theold mansatdownoppositemeacrossaroughcoffeetablewhilehiswifebusied herselfbehindmewithacharcoalstove,alwaysbehindmesothatIneverreally sawher.Behindherandfillingthewidthofthehutwasawickerworkbed stretchedonawoodenframe. Theoldmantalkedcrazynonsensetomeabouttheworldbeyondhiscactus fence,andhehadaperfectrightbecauseitwasacrazyworld.Iatehisbread andhoneyhisownwheat,hisownhivesandheardabouttheJews. 'TheseJews,'hesaid,'theyhaveastrongsmell.Icansmelloneamileaway.'We werefacetoface,andhalfofmeisJewish.Maybeit'stherearhalf. ThaveheardofaJewishtribe,'hewenton,'whichwasconquered,andthe invadersslewallthemen,butthewomenallowedthemselvestohavechildrenby theirconquerors."Beshwaya,beshzvaya",theymurmured"intime,intime". Secretlytheytaughtthechildrentohate,andwhentheygrewuptheymurdered theirfathers. 'Aslongasthereisoneleftalivetheywillnevergiveup.' Hewasafineoldmanandhisnonsensedidnotdisturbme.AnyJewcouldcome intohishouseandbeassafethereasinhisownhome,aslongashecameasa personandnotalabel.Iwatchedhim,listenedtohisvoiceratherthanhiswords, anddrankinthescene.Everythingfitted,everythingwasrightshape,size, colour,texture,allthepartshadgrowntogether,intosomethingthatwouldshape theinstinctsofthepeoplewhomadeitandlivedinit.Whatevermessagesofhate hepickedupandrepeated,hispersonaldealingsguidedbythoseinstinctswould surelybealright.ButinKabariawhatwastheretoinspiretheinhabitantsofthose shabby,crampedboxes,fightingforworkontheedgeofanovercrowdedcity? Perhapstheoldmanledatougherlife,perhapsattimesheatelessorfeltthe cold.Ifsoithadonlydonehimgood.Butthe kidscouldn'tseeit.Howcouldthey? Theyhadtogetintothatmessontheedgeofthecitysothatonedaysomeof themmightappreciatewhattheyhadleftbehind.Didtheychooseorwerethey driven?Eitherway,Ithought,theywerethestuffthatwarsaremadeof. InTunisIworkedtheembassies.TheLibyansgavememyvisa,andtookoutone heavyanxiety,whichtheEgyptiansreplacedwithanother.Therewouldbeno possibility,theysaid,ofcrossingtheborderfromLibyaintoEgypt. Istaredatthemap.TherewasTHEroad,noother.Northoftheroadwasthesea. Southoftheroad,thedesert.Hereandtheretrackstrailedintothedesert...and disappeared,punctuatedfullstopbyanoasis,ordwindlingintonothing.There wasnootherway.AfourteenhundredmileculdesactoSalloumontheEgyptian border.Ihadtogodownit,justincase... OnthethirdmorningIwasready.Thebikewaspacked.Mohamadhadhisgang aroundhim,andtheyweregoingtoescortmetothehighway,andtakeritual picturesonmycameras.Eachtimethebikehadgoneoutintothestreetmore peoplehadseenit.Bythethirddayeverykidintownknewaboutit.AsIrolledit alonginfirstgear,overheatedanddresseduptokill,theparadeswelledto fantasticproportions.ThePiedPiperortheWizardofOzcouldnothavehada greatersuccess,butIhadnowheretotakethiscrusadeandIbegantoget nervouswonderingwhereitwouldtakeme.Itwasimmodest,outofallproportion Icouldn'tstopit,butIknewithadtogowrong.

Asmyarmyturnedthelastcorner,insightofthemainroad,thepolicecamein andwounditup.TheygrabbedMohamad,whowascarryingmycameras,and toldmetofollow.Theresttheysentscattering.Therewereonlyacoupleofthem, indarkanddingysuits,buttheylookedawkwardandangry.WhenIgotintotheir officeonthehighwayoneofthemhadalreadymanagedtofindthereleaseto openthecamera,butdidn'tknowwhattodothen,soIgrabbedit,andclosedit androlledthefilmbackintoitscassetteandthenopeneditforhim. Mohamadwaslookingquitedefeated,andtheywereshoutingathim.Thenone ofthemturnedonme,andaccusedmeofbeingasensationmongeringjournalist tryingtogetpicturesofArabsstabbingeachotherindrunkenbrawls,exploiting theirpovertyandignorancetosellmydirtyrag.Itwasagoodstory.Maybeit fittedsomebodyelse.ThentheyturnedtoaccusingMohamadofbeingouttorob me,andsaidIhadbeentakingmylifeinmyhands,andIsaidallthebestthingsI couldasconvincinglyaspossibleandtriedtogetthetemperaturedown.Sothey tookusoutinthestreetandtoldMohamadtogohomeandtoldmetopissoff. ItriedtomakeitalrightwithMohamadbeforeIwent,buthewasverychastened anddidn'twanttotalk.Ididn'tliketogobutIwasaprovocationjustbeingthere, andsoIsaidasadgoodbyeandrodeoffintomyculdesac. Tunisiarollsby.ThefirstmarvelcomesinrightafterKabaria,ahugeRoman aqueductswingsalongsidemeforafewmiles,crumblingbutunconqueredlikea monsterfromthedepthsoftime.TherainsareearlyandIseethewaterhanging intheskyreadytofallonme.ThelandneedsitbutIdon't,andIhurrypastwheat fieldsandoverhillstobeatit.HalfwaytoSousseIknowit'sgoingtogetme(it'sa personalthingbetweentherainandme)andIstoptopullonthewaterproofs. Thelandisveryquiet,justabunchofhorsesaboutamileaway.IwishIshared thatcalm. AsIridealongI'mthinkingaboutKabaria.Whydiditendlikethat?Itwouldhave beenprudenttoleavethedaybefore. Yes,wellitwouldhavebeenprudenttostayathome.Youhavetoletthingsgo theirownway,orwhybehereatall. Still,Iamuneasy.Ihavetofindawaytobewithpeopleinalessspectacular fashion.Ididn'tseewhyMohamadthirstedforprestige.Hegotdrunkonit,and howcanIblamehim?It'sallverywellformetogoaroundfeelinghumble,butI mustalsobeawareoftheeffectIamhavingonothers.Itcouldbepotent. Sousseisabigtownofeightyfourthousandpeople.Hassantheenginedriver liveshere,buthisdirectionsarehopelesslyinadequate.Maybehenevermeant metofindhim.Anyway,Ihavespenttoolongnowlookingforhim,andit'stoo latetorideon.Icomeacrossabeautifuloldpartoftown,andahotelofmosaic, tiles,loftyarchesandcoolinteriors.Aroomforadinar.Behindthehotelisatiny leantosheltercrammedwithragsandboxeswhereIcanputthebike.Amanina tornanddirtykaftanwatchesmestruggletomanoeuvrethebikeinthrougha narrowgate,tenminutesofhardwork,andthensays:'Onedinar.' Iam furiousathim.'Youshouldhavetoldmebefore,'Iyelp. That'sright,youtellhim.Let'shavesomeEnglishjusticeandfairplayaround here.God,Simon,youareaprick. Iarguethepricedowntosomethingreasonable.Inthemorning,whereIthought therewasonlyroomforthebike,Iseetherearepeoplesleepingtoo.The informationhitsmelikeacustardpieintheface.

There'salotofwatereverywhere.Theroadsneartheseafrontareundertwo feetofit.Dotheymentionthisinthebrochures?IseeapackageofNordic touristswashedupinahotellobby.Thehotellooksasthoughithasabsorbedits ownweightofwater. CrossingoverlandtoSfaxIseeanotherantediluvianwonderrearupaheadof me,avastwallshotthroughwithrowsofraggedwindowsbarsmywaylikea smallmountainrange.Atthelastminuteitveersoffsharplytotherightand becomestheremainsofacolosseum. ElDjemisflooded.Sfaxalso.Thewaterygreynesskeepsmegoing.Alongthe coastnow,morelife,moretraffic,mudbrickhouses,marketgardens,datepalms, donkeys,camels,allthethingsyoureadabout,seeinpictures.Whenyouget thereyouknownoneofitwasright. RidingcautiouslyinthewetIhaveonlygoneonehundredandsixtyfivemilesby midafternoon.IdecidetostopatGabes,veryawareoftheLibyanfrontiercoming close.Iwanttoprepareforitsomehow.Tunisiaisnotpartofthewar.Itisa Westernorientated,touristconscious,bilingualcountry.Libyaisbelligerent, fanatical,oilrichandrunsaccordingtothelawsoftheProphetMohammed,orso Iamtold.Idecidetopostallmyexposedfilmoffnow,andatthelastminute rememberadocumentI'mcarryingthathasanIsraelistamponitandsendthat awayaswell.Imagesofsearchandinterrogationflashacrossmymind.They makemebothshiverandlaughatmyself.Extremesituationsalwaysseem absurduntiltheyhappen. Whendoesthe'B'moviebecomeadocumentary?BackatthefactoryinMeriden welaughedaboutmyuntried,unpreparedmotorcycle.'Chancesare,'saidone mechanic,'ifyoudon'tworryaboutit,it'llgoallthewaywithnobother.'Ichoseto worry.ItookallthetoolsandsparepartsIcouldcarry,andhalfanhourlaterthe oilfellout.BecauseIwasprepared? Doesitrainbecauseyoucarryyourumbrella,orbecauseyoudon't?It'sa personalmatterdependingonhowyourememberit.ThewayIwritemyown historyit'slowonwinningstreaks.Inevercouldgamble.Iliketoworkthingsout inadvance,butitbothersmetothinkofwhatImighthavebeenmissing.I've donetoomuchhackingawayagainstthegrainoflife.Withoutallthatsolemn effort,maybe,Icouldhavegonefurther,faster,easier. Rememberwhatmyheadmastersaidthirtyyearsago,thattarstainedoldwalrus. 'Simon,youthinktoomuch.' Thinking'slikeablacktunnel.Onceyou'reinityouhavetothinkyourway throughtotheotherend.AtleastIthinkso. TheLibyanimmigrationman,ifthat'swhoheis,hasalimpshotgunfoldedover hisarmandhuntingbootslaceduproundhistrousercuffs.Heappearshappy. HehasseveralduplicatedformsinArabic,andpointstowhereIshouldsign.Iam beingprocessedintoLibyalikeamonkey,bysignlanguage.Iputmynameto everythingwithoutquestion. Hetakesmypassport.'Helf,hesays.Helt?Oh,health.HisfirstandonlyEnglish word.Iproducemyvaccinationcertificates,grinning(likeamonkey)andpasson. There'salotofhangingabout.NobodywillspeaktomeinalanguageI understand.ThecustomschiefisinashinysilverItaliansuit,withacartonof Marlborosunderhisarm.Hetouchesafewofmydustythingsfastidiously. 'Visky?'hesays.Andthat'shisEnglishwordfortheday.TheInfidelMonkey shakeshisheadandentersLibya.Itisnotthattheycannotspeakanythingbut

Arabic.Theywillnot.ItispartoftheLibyancrusadeforIslam.Wearenotalways kindtoourforeignersanditisasoberingexperiencetohavethetablesturned.In thegoodolddays,Isuppose,onewouldhavespokenEnglishatthetopofone's voiceuntilthenativesjustnaturallygaveway,butthenwehadQueenVictoriato fallbackon. Onmyleft,afewmilesofsanddunesandthenthesea,bluefadingtogrey.On myright,desert,andnothingbutdesert.Themapsaystherearefifteenhundred milesofittoNigeriaasthecrowflies,ifacrowcould.Above,theskyisclearinall directions.Aheadtheroadisanimpeccabletwolanetarmac.Amildwindraises acurtainofdustoverthedesert,nothingawkward,justenoughtoblurrthe outlinesofafewcamels.Thereisnotraceofahumanpresenceanywhere.Istop totastetheemptiness,listentothesilence,likethehissofablanktapeplaying. It'sabitawesome.AlthoughIcouldeasilydothehundredmilestoTripolibefore nightfall,IknowthatImustsleepoutinarealdeserttonight. Thecitybredboyinmeisfrightened,andalltheusualalarmsignalsgooffinmy head.CanIrideonthisstuff?WhatwillhappenifIsinkintoit?Isitsafe?Who mightcomebyinthenight?Atinglingmixtureoffearandanticipation,waitingto combineintosomethinglikejoy.Oncethedecisionismadeit'seasy.Ichoosea spotamongsomedunesontheseawardsideandpropupthebikethankstoa metaldiscweldedontotheendoftheswingstand,onegoodideathatdidget carriedout.Thenthetent.Where?Whichway?Howanchored?Everyactionis partofaroutinetobestudiedandperfected.HowmanytimeswillIbedoingthis? Hundreds?Itisworthgettingitright.Iusethebiketoanchoronesideofthetent, andfindaboulderfortheotherside.Whatabouttheflysheet?Willitrain?It seemsimpossible.Theskyisclearfromhorizontohorizon,butstill,justincase. ..Theningoesthebedding:Theflyingjacketfoldedinsideoutmakesagreat pillow.Soitgoeson.AsImoveroundthebikeItrytonoticeeverythingaboutit, chaintension,tyretread,anythingcomingloose,fallingoff,tryingtobuildupa pictureofitasitshouldbesothatanychangeringsawarningbell...andsure enoughthere'sarockerboxcaploose.Icanseethethread. Thosebloodythings.Whatafuckingawfuldesign.Fifteensecondsofprofanityto maketheirearsburninMeriden.Mustremembertotightenit,withjointing compound.No!Doitnow.You'llforget.Andwhileyou'reaboutitcheckthe batterylevel. There'stheOptimusstovetofillfromthetank,amessybusinessbecauseIcan't seethelevelinthestove,andit'shardtocontroltheflowoffuelanyway.Must findabetterway.TherearestuffedpepperscannedinHungarytoeatwithrice. Thewholeperformance,unpacking,checking,Cookingandclearingupkeepsme movingandthinkingfornearlytwohours.IhavealmostforgottenwhereIam. WithcoffeeandacigaretteIsettlebackintotheastoundinghushofthedesert andremember,andthenareallyfiercefloodofjoycomesrushingoverme. Justlookatme.LookwhereIam.Isn'tthistoobloodyfantasticforwords?It'sme here,notLawrenceofArabiaorRudolfValentinoorRommelandtheAfrika Korps.Me,andthislittlemachine,wemadeithere. ThesunhasrunoffintothesandsomewhereinTunisia.Thestarsaremaking unbelievablybigholesinthemoonlessnight.Iaminastuporofdelight.Ifthe journeyendstomorrowitwillhavebeenworthit,butapremonitionsweepsaway alldoubtandforonceIallowmyselftoknowthatthejourneywillnotend

tomorrowandthattherewillbemanytimeswhenIwillfeelthissame overwhelmingjoy.TonightweareshowingtAfilm. Lifeneverleaveswellalone.Ifeelthewindchange,seethelightningatsea,hear thethunder.Inearlymorningthestormmovesinland.ItrainsveryheavilyandI'm afraidthewatermayunderminethebikeanddropitonthetentandme,butIdid chooseslightlyhighergroundanditshouldbealright.Idecidetosititout.Atlast abreakintherain.Ipackhastily,thetentfullofwaterandsand,andgetbackon theroadtoTripoli. AllIknowofLibyaisTheRoad,athousandmilesofroad,goodfasthighway, stretchedalongtheAfricancoastlikeawashingline.Libyahangsfromtheline likeagiant'sbedsheet,peggedonbyTripoliandBenghazi,blisteringinthesun. TheysaytherearesomelovelydampspotsdownbelowamongthefoldsatKufra andSebha,butwhatIseefromtheroadisoutrageous. OutinthedesertIseeatent,theoldkindmadeofhidesstrungonpolesin gracefulpeaksandtroughswheretheSheikofArabeeforcedourforebearsto swallowsheep'seyesandmurmur'delicious'.Outofthetopgrowsatelevision aerial.Alongsidethetentaretwogasbottles,andbesidethemisparkedanew Mercedeslimousine.Theownerstridesoutinbillowingwhitecotton,leapsin kickingoffhissandals,andpressesaleatheryfootdownhardontheaccelerator. Alittlewayalongtheroad,ontheothersidearetwocamelstetherednexttoan aeroplane. EverymaninLibya,employedornot,singleormarried,getsaweeklyoildividend fromthestate.Inthetownspeoplearedoinguptheirplaces.Everyothershop sellspaint.AndeveryothershopsellsaudioopticalgearfromJapan.TheKoran isproclaimedthroughoutthelandontriumphalarchessetacrosstheroads. Alcoholandwomenoutofwedlockareforbidden.Whiskyistwentyfivedollarsa bottleandfortyeighthoursingaolforafirstoffence.Womenwrapthemselvesin achequeredshroud,holdingitintheirmouthssothatsometimesonlyaneyeand atootharevisible.Youmustnotlookattheeye.(Whowouldwantto?TheoneI sawglitteredlikeglass.) Tripolilooksasthoughitwererecentlybombed.ItstillhasanItalianairaboutit,I think,fromthecolonialdays.TheItaliansarebackwithcontracts.Inmyhotelred neckedItalianpipelayersloungeinthebreakfastroomreadingcomics.Thehotel isveryexpensiveandIhavetogotothebank.Therearethreecashiers,butthe manaheadofmeinthelinereachesintohisplasticshoulderbagandbringsout apileofnotesafoothigh,mostlyintensandtwenties.Nowallthreecashiersare countinghismoney.Halfwaythroughastacksomeoneshoutsagreeting,a cashierreplies,hasalittlechat,losescount,andstartsagain.Ittakestwenty minutesbeforetheymanagetogetthroughitallwithoutinterruption.Idrawone fivepoundnoteandwonderwhytheydontjustgivemeahandful. FromTripolitoSirteisthreehundredmiles,andI'mreallyflyingwiththeengine singingformeandeverythingrappingalongnicely.There'salotofrain,butI'm lessnervousofthewetnow,ontaratleast.Thelandandsealieflatoutforever, andIcanseetheweathercomingmaybefiftymilesahead.Ihaveneverseenso muchweather.IcanseewhereitbeginsandwhereitendsIcanseetheblue skyabove,andtheapproachingstormsandthenthegoodtimesbeyond. Remarkable.Likehavinganoverviewofpastandfuture.Iamaworldspinning throughvisibletime.Theweathersomuchresembleshistory.Greatforces meeting,interacting,dischargingtheirenergies.Overtheretheblackestofclouds

issheddingdoomonthelandbelow.Whatdoesthatpoisonouslookingdeluge represent?Plague?Famine?Civilwar?Thosewhoareunderitsterrible judgementcancertainlynotseebeyondit.Tothemitmustseemasifthe universeisengulfed.WhileIcanseethatitisamomentarything. AllmorningI'mflyingalongundertheweather,withmyheaddownatseventy,left armrestingalongthehandlebar,listeningtotherroommrroommoftheengine, thezappittyzappittyoftheanorakripplingintheairstream,thecracklingofthe visorontheopenfacehelmet.Thispartofthecoastismorefertileolivegroves, thousandsofdatepalms,settlementswithpaddycultivation,manywellswith curioussteppedwallsoneithersideofthem.TherearemanybigwhitePeugeot taxisontheroad.Outwardlytheyarethefamiliarblankmodulesofindustrial civilizationinside,turbans,fezzesandveilshuddledoverbundlesofrichfabrics. Theeffectislikearefrigeratorpackedwithshrunkenheads,oradigitaldisplay thattellsfortunes.Thousandsofthesetaxisrunimmensedistancesbetween TripoliandCairo.SometimesIseeoneleavetheroadwithoutwarningand plungeintotheopendesert.OnlywithshadedeyescanIseethedarkspeckofa tentonsomedistantrisingground. Nowitisgettingnoticeablydrierandwilder.Soonthere'sonlydesertonboth sides,andthewindiswhistlingcloudsofitacrosstheroad.Sandflickersonthe tarmaclikeflamesand,inplaces,dunesarebuildinguponthesurface.Many camelsgrazeattheroadside,where,forsomereason,thereseemstobemore shrubbery,lankyyounganimalsstartingawayinfrightattheunfamiliarsoundof thebike.Iseeasandbaracrosstheroadandrelaxonthethrottletoslowdown. Nochange.Theengineracesonandsuddenlyit'surgent.Brakeson,clutchout, andIleanforwardtoswitchofftheignition,sincethereisnokillbutton. Thecarburettorslideisstuck.Ihavetorideonlikethatfortwentymiles,an interestingproblemuntilIgettoBenGren,wherethereisshelter,petrolanda cafe. MyfirstroadsiderepairiseasyenoughonceIgetoutoftheflyingsand.The garageownerissointriguedthathegivesmeafreespaghettilunchwithmeat sauceandgratedcheese.ThereareveryfewstrangersinLibya, andIamabletoseehowtheabsenceoftourismallowspeopletotakeanatural andgenerousinterestintravellers.Iamhighlyprivileged. ItisdarklongbeforeIgettoSirte,andaroadbarrierloomsupwithadiversion arrowpointingoffintotheopendesertonmyleft.Mylightscanpickupnotrack there,butthetarmacaheadlooksfine,soIgocautiouslyahead.Thetarmac widensabruptly,andIbegintograspthatIamonanairstrip.Afterawhileajeep rushesupbehindmeandstops.Itisfullofarmy.AlieutenantinBritishstyle uniformtakesmypassportandsearchesthroughitwithatorch.Theirfacesare mostimpassive,andIamexpectingtrouble.Insteadtheyalltaketurnstoshake myhandwarmlyandwavemeon.Anicemoment. IhavejustdecidedtosleepoutwhenIgettothepolicecheckpointatSirte.The guardinsiststhatIgostraighttoahotel.Irideupthemuddyhilltospendthe eveningamongmenlounginginpyjamas,curlyslippersandtasselledfezzes, playingtrictracandsmokingelaboratepipes.Theclerkpretendstospeak EnglishandIaskhimwhythewellshavesteppedwallsroundthem. Itislikethis,'hesays.'FromhereisBenghazithreehundredandfiftymiles,and. ..'Ah.Yes.Isee.

Threehundredandsixtyfivemiles,tobeexact,isquitealongwayona motorcycle.I'mupearlyandflyingagain.Afterafewminutesofsun,therain breaksoverme.ForthreehoursIridethroughit,constantlygratefulthatthe electricsholdup.Therearetwoshakymomentsonridgesofdriedmudmade soapybyfreshrain.OtherthanthatIamonlywet.Therainhasworkeditsway throughtheseamsoftherubberizedwaterproofs,andmybootsaresquelching. WhenIcomeoutfromundertheroofofraincloudthedesertaroundmelooks likeprimevalswampandthecamelsmakesuitablemonsters.Riversof floodwaterrushalongthesideoftheroad.Then,withinhours,everything,myself included,isdryasaboneagain. Benghazi'stallestbuildingsarealreadyinsightwhenIrunoutofpetrol.Evidently thepetrolispoorsinceitisnotdeliveringtheexpectedmileage,butIfeelstupid andannoyedwithmyselfforbeingcaughtlikethis. Istandbytheroadsidetowaveatthetrafficandthefirstcarstopsforme.Itisa littleFiatsaloonwithtwoyoungmeninthefrontandalargebundleoflaundryon thebackseatwhichturnsouttobenotlaundryatallbutanelderlyfemale relative. Themenarecleanshaven,tidilygroomedinWesterndress,andenergetically helpful.Theyshowerservicesuponme.Wesiphonsomepetrolfromtheirtank. Theyescortmeintotownandhelptofindmeahotel.Ontheway,atapetrol station,theyfillmytankandabsolutelyrefusemoney.Andfinallytheylendmea poundbecausethebanksareclosed. TheOilfieldHotelismyhomeforaweek.Itcostsonepoundtooccupyoneofthe threecastironinfirmarybedsinaroom,butmostnightstheotherbedsare empty.OnlyoncedoIhavearoommate,acoalblackNubiancookonhiswayto workinanoilrigger'scampnearTripoli.Hisfriendlychuckleswhenawakeare offsetbytheloudestsnoreIhaveeverheard.InthenightIthroweverythingat him,buttheexpresstrainscontinuetoroarinandoutofhisnostrils.Ifhestayed onemorenightIwouldhavetomoveout. TheEgyptianConsulconfirmsthatitisentirelyoutofthequestionformetocross intoEgyptbyroad. TsupposeIcanalwaystry,'Isay. Hissmileistheonereservedfortroublesomeidiots. 'Yes.Youmaytry.' IresearchalltheotherwaysintoEgypt.Byship?Atbestlongwindedand uncertain,butnowcaptainsarerefusingtotaketheirvesselsintoAlexandria. Byair?Terriblyexpensiveforthebikeandalso,atpresent,uncertain.Icouldfly myselfandroadfreightthebike,butIamwarnedthatImightneverseethebike again. TheSundayTimeshasofferedtosendcredentialstohelpmeacrosstheborder. Itseemsworthwaitingabit.Benghaziis,atfirst,anenjoyablecity.Ithaslovely squareswithpalms,poolsandfountains,andabigbazaar,agoldmarket, cloisteredshopsfullofdesirableobjectslikeivorybackscratchersandmusical instruments. Inthesamestreetasthehotelisamotorcyclerepairshop.KerimelFighi,the owner,cannotdoenoughforme.Ihavetherunoftheplace,anddecidetopaint theboxesgreen.Thegleamingwhitefibreglassoffendsmenow.Iwantabike thatlosesitselfinthelandscape,ratherthanstandingout.Ievenwindgreentape overthebrightchromeoftheheadlampandhandlebars.

Itiseasytomakefriendshere.Therearesomanyyoungmenaroundwith nothingtodo.Theyarecourteous,inquisitiveandgoodcompany,butverycutoff fromtheworldandfromknowledgeingeneral.Theyseemhungryfor involvement,andprowlthestreetslikewolves,butthereisnothingtooccupytheir mindsexceptthelatestfilmwhichtheyarelikelytoseeseveraltimes.Thenew moneyhasliberatedthem,butforwhat?Theyseemverybewilderedbythe changes,andtheobviousconflictbetweenthereligiousvaluespreachedby GhadaffiandtheKoran,andtheNewAgeofTechnology.Inanycaseitisall speculation,overendlessroundsoffizzydrinks.InBenghazi,atleastthewomen arefreerofpurdah,andmanywalkaroundinWesterndress,buttheyarestill quiteunapproachable. AfteraweekofwaitingthereisstillnomailfromLondon.Icannotbearthe inactionanylonger.TomorrowI'llgototheborder,rightorwrong.AnEnglish techniciantellsmetheborderisamilitaryone. 'Theyhaveveryitchytriggerfingers.Shootfirstandaskafterwards.Poof!One moreSundayTimesmangone.' IfeelasthoughI'mgoingtothefront,ratherthancrossingafrontier.Kerimtells methattherearesomeinterestingruinsonthewaytoTobruk.'Roman.Very good.'Idecidetotaketheshortestroutetotheborderanddomytourismonthe wayback.IamquiteconvincedthatinafewdaysIshallbebackinBenghazi. Theroadfollowsthecoastawhileandthenrisesgentlyintothehillsof Cyrenaica.ThisisthepartofthecoastclosesttoGreeceandCrete,wherethe GreeksandRomansgainedtheirfirstfootholdinAfricabutIknewlittleandcared lessaboutantiquityatthetime. Theairwasfresherandthelandmorefertile.Therewerefarmsallaroundand manysmallpeasanthuts.Amanwalkedoutofahutand,threestepsfromhis threshold,swepthisrobeupoverhishipsandsquattedinasingle,surprisingly gracefulmovement.OnlyafterwardsdidIrealizewhathehadbeendoing. 'GoodGod,'Isaidaloud.'Soclosetohisowndoorstep?' Thewaywoundamongoutcroppingsofcrustywhiterock,enfoldingpinewoods, areasofscrubandgorse,patchesofsoftspringygrass,andstreamswithreedy banks.Thelandscapefeltfamiliaranddrewmeirresistibly.Ifoundaparticularly luxuriouslookingpatchofgrassshieldedfromtheroadbyarowoflowthornsand setupthetentthere.Noquestion,thatlandfeltlikemine,andIwasentirelyat homeinit. ThemoonwasfullandIrealizedforthefirsttimethatIhadstartedmyjourney underafullmoonexactlyamonthbefore.Thatnightthemoonseemedmore brilliantthanIhadeverknownit,andnightwassimplyareflectionofdayina silvermirror.Iateanddrankandsmokedandwrote,doingallthosethingswith greatpleasure,andthenlaydowninthetentconvincedthatthedaywasover.As Ilay,drowsilywaitingforsleep,amalevoicedriftedacross,seemingtocome fromtheroad.Iheardadogbark.Thevoicereplied.Theyweremovingalong,but insteadoffadingthevoicegrewstronger. BynowIwasfullyawake,tryingtolocatethepositionoftheintruderandtrackhis movements.NotforthefirsttimeIthoughthowhopelesslyvulnerableIwas, practicallynakedandinsidethissmallnylonenvelope.Forawhiletherewas silence,butIwasincreasinglynervousforIhadheardnothingtosuggestthathe hadmovedaway.Suddenlythevoicebrokeoutagain,butveryclosethistime andloud,singingalustysong.Thiswastoomuchforme.Iscrambledintomy

clothesandpreparedtostruggleoutofthetent,butassoonasIputmyheadout, myfearsdissolvedinastonishment. Iwassurroundedbysheep.Ilookedoutonaseaofsilverfleece,ahundred animalsormore.NotonesoundhadIheardtomarktheirapproach.Wellbeyond them,furtherawaythanIhadthoughtandperhapsevenunawareofmy presence,stoodtwofigures. Ifeverythinginthatlightseemedtobepaintedinsilver,theirrobesappearedto havebeenwovenofthemetal.Theirfaceswereinshadow,buttheycarriedtheir silverraimentwiththemajestyofkings.Awindowflewopenonthepast,onhalf bakedimpressionsleftbyBibletalesandChristmascarolswhichIhad discountedthenassillyfablesandsuperstitions.Suchthingshadnoplaceinthe crowdedstreetsandclassroomsofmychildhood.Theywereonlypossiblehere, underthissky,inthislightandonthisland.ThiswasBiblecountry,andona nightlikethisonecouldbelieve. IwalkedovertotheshepherdsandexchangedtheArabgreetingsIhadlearned. Wecoulddonomore.Wesmokedacigarettetogetherpeacefullyandafterten minutesIreturnedtothetentandslept. DuringthehoursbeforedawnthetemperaturefellbelowzeroandIwoketofind thedewfrozenontheground.Theshepherdswerestillthere,andnowtheywere asremarkablefortheirpovertyastheyhadbeenfortheirgrandeur.Theirfaces wereuglyanddulledbyignorance.Theirrobesweretransformedfromsilvercloth tosacking.Theywerehuddledontheground,miserablycold,twoillfavouredand patheticpeasantsgazinginaweattheparaphernaliaIwasstrugglingtopackwith frozenfingers.Iwouldhavemadecoffeeforthem,buttherewasnowaterleft. Thecontrastbetweendayandnightinspirednoloftysentimentsinmeatthe time.Itwastoocoldforthat. Isharedmylastcigaretteswiththemandleft.AtthenexttownIrealizedthatI wasnotontheroadIhadmeanttotake,butwasheadingwillynillyforthe antiquities.AnhourlaterIwasatCyrene. Imeanttopayonlyatokenvisit.Romanruins,Ifelt,wereabittooclosetohome, andmymindalwaysseemedtobetravellingseveralthousandmilesaheadofmy body.Theentrancetothesitewasawonderfulgatewayofhoneycoloured sandstonesoaringaboveme.Ienteredandfoundmyselfinavastforum,rowsof columnsreachingoutbeyondanythingIcouldhaveimaginedpossible,and betweenthecolumnstantalizingglimpsesofmoremarvelsineverydirection.I wasaloneinagreatRomancity,certainlytheonlysightseerthere.AtonetimeI sawsomerobedwomeninanamphitheatre,buttheyfledatmyapproach.Ispent thedaywandering,entranced,amongpoolsandpatios,gymnasia, temples,andinandoutofthehomesofordinaryRomancitizens.Inonepartan Italianarchaeologistwasinvolvedinrestorationwithsomeworkmen,butthey seemedtobelongmoretothecity'spasthistorythantothepresent.Laterinthe afternoonthebubbleburstfortenminuteswhenapartyofverysuperiorairforce commanderssweptroundtheruinsatthespeedofflight,withtheiruniformed photographerburstingbloodvesselstobreaktherecordforexposuresper minute.Hewasusingflashinthatblindingsunwhichmeantthathewasonly interestedintheirfaces,andIthoughtthatsummeduptheirtripverywell,Just faces. Ifinishedthedayonthelowerlevelofthecity,withtheMediterraneanspreadout belowme.Asthesunitselffadedthelightseemedtospringoutofthestone,and

thecityglowedbeforefallingbackintothenight.Iknewthattheseexperiences, theshepherds,Cyrene,werestrikingdeepintome,thateachday'sevents seemedtointensifythefollowingday,andyetIhadbarelygrazedtheedgeofmy firstcontinent.AtthehotelIateamealwithtwoFrenchsalesmentakingtimeoff forasidetrip.Theywerepleasanttotalkto,informativeaboutArabdeficiencies, buttheyseemedtometohavelefttheirimaginationsathomeinParis.DidI seemasordinary,asuninspiredtothem?TheywereusedtoAfrica,ofcourse.It struckmethateverywhereintheworldIwouldmeetpeopletowhombeingthere wouldbeanordinary,everydayevent.Wasmyjourneyreallynothingmorethana stateofmind? Isleptoutagainthatnight,onthecoastjustbeyondMarsaSusa,andIknewnext morningthatIwouldhavetoreachtheborderthatday.BylunchtimeIwas alreadyinTobruk,adryboneofacity,splinteringandpowderinginthesun.Imet anIrishmaninthestreet.Heworkedforthe'Aisle'Institute,wherehetaught English(orIrish)toLibyanoilmen.Hewasearning500amonth,afortunein thosedays,andwithhissavingshewasbuyinganapartmentinRome,another oneinAnconaandafarmhouseinIreland.Heaskedmeinforlunchwithhis Italianwifeandsmallchildren.ShehatedtheArabs,andsaidherchildren couldn'tplaywiththeirchildrenforfearofcatchingskindiseases. Tcan'tsayIcareforthemmyself,'saidtheIrishman.'Theyseemtoregardall Westernersasexploiters.Butitwouldn'tbesobadiftheydidn'ttreatuslike Martiansinthestreets.'Theyinvitedmetosleepthereonmywayback.Ididn't knowifIwould.Ifeltrathersorryforthem.Thesewerenicepeoplewhoseemed tohavemissedthepointsomewhere,butthenIdidn'thavetolivetheirlives. Isetoffwiththemaximumofnonchalancetodothelastseventyfivemiles, knowingIcouldn'tgetthrough,butunabletoforgetwhatafantastictriumphit wouldbeifIdid. Thefirstcheckpointappearedaboutanhourbeforesunset,timeformetoget backtoTobrukbeforedark.Therewasnogate,onlyasmallportablecabin.The guardlookedatmypassport,andthesheafofArabicdocuments,extractedthe currencycontrolformandhandedtherestbacktomewithagrin.Heslidthe barrierbackandsaid'Byebye'.Obviouslyhewashavinghislittlejoke.Ilaughed too,andwentontotherealfrontier.Asmallqueueoftaxiswaslinedupaheadof meafewmilesfurtheron.Ijoinedthequeue,butasoldierspottedmeandwaved metothefront.Hetookmypassportintotheofficewithhimandbroughtitback withthevisacancelled.Ibegantogetveryexcitedandalittlealarmedatwhat mighthappenwhentheEgyptianssentmeback.Becausesurelytheywouldsend meback.Ilookedatthevisasagain,idly,andthegroundsuddenlyseemedto slideawayfromunderme.TheEgyptianvisahadanextrabittackedalongsideit, readingthewrongwayonthepage.InallthetimesIhadlookedatthepassportI hadsomehowfailedtonoticeit.Themessagewasdirectandshattering.Itread: 'AccesstotheU.A.R.viathecoastofN.Africa&Salloumisnotpermitted.'Partof itwasalmostobscuredbythethickborderoftheprincipalvisastamp,buteven so,ifyouwerelookingforityoucouldnotmissit. Well,eithertheLibyanshadmissedit,ortheywereplayingmeasinistertrick. Therewasonlyonethingformetodo,andthatwastogoonasthoughIhadn't seeniteither.Thegateswungopen,andIwentthrough,swallowinghard. Ahundredyardsorsofurtheronwassomethingthatlookedlikearailwaystation, withthreeplatforms,andtwotracksforincomingandoutgoingtraffic,butfirst

cameanotherbarrier.AlwaysIwaswaitingforthehandthatwouldrisebeforeme andbarmyway.AgainIwaswavedon. 'Youcangothrough.' 'What?Alltheway?' 'Yes,youcango.' Thestationwasinafermentofactivity.Theplatformswerepiledhighwith moundsofcarpetsandcushionsinplasticbags,beingguardedorarguedoverby mendressedineverykindofrobeandheadgearandanarmyofofficialsin crumpledkhaki.Irodestraightthroughitallandouttheotherside.Theguardat thegatetherewasabouttoletmethrough,whenavoiceshouted:'No.Stop. Comebackplease.' Theguardpointedbackandmumbledsomething.Iturnedtoseeasmallrolypoly manwithashinyunshavenface,smilingatmethroughhiswhiskers. 'Comeplease,'hesaid.'Wecannotignoretheformalities.CanIseeyour passportplease.YouaregoingtoCairo?WelcometoEgypt.Nowwemustsee theCaptain.' Ibroughtoutmynewspapercutting,almostafullpageoftheSundayTimeswith aphotographofme,thebikeandallmygearspreadoutaroundit.Italkedabout myjourneyasthoughthefutureofEgyptI dependedonit,anddideverythingtodistractattentionfromthevisa.Evenso,I wassurprisedbytheenjoymentitseemedtogivethem. Twilldoeverythingtohelpyou,'saidRolyPoly.'Wouldyoulikesometea?' Withaglassofcleartea,sweetanddelicious,inmyhand,feelinglikeAlicein Wonderland,IconfrontedthefirstoftheEightMandatoryObstaclesbetweenme andEgypt.Thefirstmanreadmyvisaseveraltimes,payingparticularattentionto the'NoEntry'qualification.Heseemedtoseenothingthereofinterest.Number twowasthepolice.Theyreadthevisaagain,butupsidedown,andthenfilledout asmallformtornraggedlyoffasheetofduplicatingpaper,havinggreatdifficulty withtheXRW964M.NumbersthreeandfourhadtodowiththepapersIhad broughtfromLibya.Therewereseveralrapidexchangesofdocuments,and alreadyIwashavingdifficultyholdingontothemall.AtonepointIlostsightof thefirstpaperfromthepolice. 'Isitimportant?'askedRolyPoly. 'Well,Idon'tknow.' 'Itisnot,'hesaidfirmly.'Nevermind,'andsweptmeontochangemymoneyat numberfive,topayforlicensingthebikeatnumbersix.Thenbacktonumber threeforanargumentaboutthecustomscarnet,andontonumbersevenwhere theLibyansdischargedit.Finally,inanofficewellawayfromthecrowd,apolice officersatbehindthemostvenerablesetofledgersIhadeverseen.Theyhad beenthumbedsooftenthattheircornershadbeenroundedoff,andthepaper wasthecolourofthedesert.Theylayrightalongthelengthofhistablelike blocksoferodedsandstone,andIhadnodoubtthatitwasonthesethatthe futureofEgyptreallydepended. Hefilledoutmycarnetandhandedmetwoheavymetalnumberplates. 'Finished,'hesaid. 'Finished?'askedRolyPoly.'HaveyouthankedtheCaptain?''Ialwaysthank everybody,'Ireplied,naively.Heburstintolaughter. 'Now,'hesaidwithspecialemphasis,'canIhelpinanyotherway?'

Ifumbledtowardsmypocketandthendecidedagainstit.WhyshouldIassume hewanteda'gratuity'?Ithankedhimsincerelyandturnedaway.Hiscontented expressiondidnotfalter. Iwenttothebike.Isimplycouldnotbelieveit.Myhearthadbeeninmymouth andwasstillthere,pumpinghard.IfoldedallthepiecesofpaperIhadbeen givenintomypassport.Becausethejackethadnopockets,Ilaidthepassporton topofsomewaterproofglovesinoneofthesideboxes.Ilockedthebox.Ifound somewireandtiedbothplatesontightatthebackofthebike.AllthewhileIwas expectingtohearsomeoneshout,'Hey!You.Justaminute.' Igotonthebike,verydeliberately,tickledthecarburettorandkickeditover.Then IrodeslowlythroughthegateintothetowncalledSalloum.Idelayedthemoment oftriumphaslongaspossible.Salloumwassmallbuttreacherousinthenight. Theroadwasnarrowandbad,andtherewerecowsroamingaboutloose.Ticking likeatimebombIrodedownhillthroughthewindingstreet,andthen,abruptly,I wasoutintheopenspacesagainandIcouldholdmyecstasybacknolonger. Iroaredandsangandjiggledwithdelight.IwasinEgypt,andeverythingwas different,themoon,thestars,thetemperature,thesmelloftheair,allseemedto besubtlyEgyptian.ItwasawonderIstayedonthebike,Iwassopleasedwith myself,andfullyconvincedthatithadbeensomespecialqualityIpossessedthat hadachievedtheimpossible,backinSalloum.Itfeltlikeapersonalconquest. NowforCleopatra... SosureIhadbeenthatIwouldnotgetintoEgyptthatIhadnotonceconsidered whereIwouldheadforifIdid.Ihadnoteventhoughtaboutpetrol.The headlightsonthemapshowedapumpatSidiBarani,fiftymilesalong.Iseemed toarrivethereinnotimeatall.Therewasfuel,butnowheretostay.Thetown,if therewasone,hadmeltedintodarkness. EightyfivemilestoMersaMatruh.Nothing.IfeltIcouldridetoCairoifnecessary. TenmilesshortofMatruhIsawsomepaintedoilbarrelsacrosstheroad,witha hurricanelampburningononeofthem.Lightshonefromthedoorwayofalittle hut.Isloweddownandasoldierapproachedme.Helaidhisleftarmacrosshis rightwristandopenedhisrighthand,palmupwards,inthesignthatmeant: papers!' Istopped,unlockedtheboxandbroughtoutthepassport.Anoldermanin pyjamasandfezcameoutofthehut. 'Pleasewait,'hesaid.'Itwillbetenminutesonly.' Iheardamanualtelephonecrankingandlitacigarette.Afterawhileathirdman cameoutandgotintoablackcarparkedbeyondthebarrier.Ashestartedthe engineanddroveoffthemaninpyjamashurriedovertome. 'Followthatcar,please,'hesaidurgently.'TheywillclearyouinMatruhifyou hurry,buttheyarejustgoingtoclosedown.' Iwasinfectedbytheslightsenseofpanicandrushedoff.Thecarwasdoingover seventymilesanhourandIhadsomedifficultycatchingit. Then,forthesecondtimethatday,thebowelsoftheearthslidopenbeneathme. Ireachedbackwithmyrighthand.Thelidoftheboxhadbeenblownoff. ExpectingtoputthepassportbackIhadnotlockeditagain.Istopped immediately.Thewallethadgone.Ilookedatthemileageindicator.Itcouldhave happenedanywhereinthelastsixmiles.

Thewalletcontaineddrivinglicences,vaccinationcertificates,acreditcard, photographs,currencyandanaddressbook.Losingitseemedlikean overwhelmingdisaster.Twocholerashots,ayellowfevershotandasmallpox vaccinationwouldhavetobedoneagain.TherewereaddressesImightnever recover.Thecash,thecreditcard,wereextralayersofdefencestrippedaway. ButhowfarcouldIgetwithoutadrivinglicence? SlowlyIdroveback,onthewrongsideoftheroad,searchingbutnumbedbythis suddenreverseinmyfortunes.Ihadriddennearlyfourhundredmilesthatday, andthewearinesshitmethen.Itriedtothinkclearly.Theglovesshouldhave beenthelastobjectstofall,andastheywerequitebulkyIhopedtoseethem whereablackwalletmightnotshow. ForamileIsawnothing.ThenIsawlightahead,andthemurmurofengines running.Icameacrosstwotaxis,onecoming,onegoing,stoppedalongsideeach otherwiththeirinteriorlightson.Onedriverwasinthemiddleoftheroad,atall beardedmaninwhiterobeandturban.Hestoodinthespacecarvedoutofthe darknessbythecarlights,andseemedverymuchincommandofthatspace.I wantedtostopandaskwhetherhehadseenanything,buthewavedmeon peremptorily.Hishandwasraisedinathreateningwayandhestaredatme fiercely.Ifelttooweaktoresist,androdeon. IwentonsearchingvainlyuntilIgotbacktothepolicepost.Atruckwascoming through,andthepolicecommandeeredittohelpmesearchinthemuchbrighter illuminationofitsheadlights.AfterawhileIfoundthelidofthebox.Thenthetruck driverspottedthefirstglove,andsoonafterIsawthesecondone.Thewallet shouldhavebeenbetweenthelidandthegloves.Iwentupanddownseveral timesbutfoundnothing. Iwasinastateofdespairoutofallproportiontothedisaster.Weariness,theend ofalongday,mealonewiththebikeatmidnightinastrangecountryatwarthat waspartofit.FromMarkAntonytoCharlieBrowninonethoughtlessmoment.I snatchedatthelesson.AsalwaysIfeltIcouldenduremytribulationsiftherewas somethingtobelearnedfromthem.EuphorialeadstoThoughtlessness.That's howfortunesaretold.Sookay.Nomoremindlesschasingaftercars.Isthatall? No,thatwasnotall.Iwentovertheincidentagaininmymind,sawtheArab standinginthatpooloflightinthedarkness,withhisarmraised.Yes,butIhad seensomethingelse,beforeIhadevenknownwhatIwaslookingat.Ihadseen himstraighteningup,thatwasit,straighteninghis legs.HehadbeenrisingfromtheroadsurfaceandIhadseenhimdoitbutIhad notwantedtoknowbecauseIwastootired.No!Nottootired,toofrightened.I wastoofrightenedofthatimperiouswaveofthehand,ofthatfierceglance,to faceuptothefactthathehadjustfoundmywalletontheroad. Thediscoverywasdevastating.IhadthoughtIwasaman.Ihadtakenrisksand comethroughtheminthewayamanwassupposedto,andyethereIwasafter alljustaboyquailingbeforethefirstfigureofauthoritythatcamemyway.Itwent verydeepinme,thisfearofauthority,anditsickenedmetofindmyselfas vulnerableasever.Iknewtherobedfigurewouldhauntmeforalongtime.Itwas thebeginningofalongstruggle. Hardasitwastobearthismomentofselfrealization,Ifoundsomekindof strengthinit.IpiledupsomestonestomarktheplacewhereIhadbeen searchingandrodeontothecheckpointatMatruhwhereIwasgivenbackmy

passport.IexplainedwhatIwasdoing,andwentbacktogoonwiththesearch, butwithnomoresuccessthanbefore. ThenIstartedthinking.IftheArabhadtakenthewallet,hewouldprobablynot keepit.Hewouldtakewhatwasvaluableandthrowawaytherest.Where.Before thecheckpoint.Iroaduptothefirstcheckpointagain,andworkedback.The driverofacargoingtoLibyawouldthrowsomethingfromhiswindowacrossthe roadtotheotherside.Butno.InLibyatrafficdrivesontheright,inEgyptonthe left.Soitwouldbealefthanddrivecar,drivingontheleftoftheroad.Ifollowed therighthandvergegoingtowardsMatruh.FiftyyardsalongIsawasmallbundle ofpaperagainsttherootofabush.Thewallethadbeenbrokeninhalf.No money.Noaddresssection.Nophotographs.Nocreditcard.Butthevaccination certificateswerethere,andoneinternationaldrivinglicence.Icouldfindnothing moreinthearea.Partlyrelieved,andalittlebetterpleasedwithmyself,Ireturned toMatruh. Itwastwointhemorning.Thepolicecorporalreceivedmewithgenuinepleasure. Hewasshortandunprepossessing,hisuniformcrumpledandshortintheleg, withsomekindofblueandwhitebandroundonearm.Hewasinchargeofa smallplatoonofevenmoreraggedsoldiers,buttheywereallexcitedbythe arrivalofamanonamotorcycle,anddeterminedtolookafterme.Theyproduced tea.ThenahandfulofdatesmuchbiggerthananyIhadseen,andsomecorned beefandflatbread.Thecorporal'sfacewasalandscapedevastatedbypock marks.HespokealittleEnglishandwasfiercelypatriotic.Hewantedmetoknow aboutthecrushingdefeatEgypthadinflictedonIsrael.AsImunchedmydates, sittingonaroughbenchnearacharcoalfire,hestoodovermerepeating, fanatically,thesamewords. 'Nekestaweek,brekfastinTelAviv.Nekestaweek,brekfastinTelAviv.Israel finish.Isgood?'Andallofthemstaredatmelookingforthetruthinmyeyes,butI wasn'tgoingtoletmyselfsliptwiceinanight,andIsaidthereshouldbenowar andthatnobodywantedtofightoneitherside.ByacharcoalfireintheEgyptian nightthemostbanalremarkcanhavetheforceofprophecy,andmywordswere receivedwithwonderandagreement. Theybuiltmeabedroom.Literally.WhilethecorporaltaughtmeArabic,they madeasoftboardroofoversomeheapsofbrick,andaplatformtolieon.Atfour o'clockIwasallowedtosleep. InthemorningIwentbackforthethirdtimetothepolicepostontheSalloum road,andfoundpagesofaddressesandphotographsspreadoverthedesert. Theywereallthere.Onlycashandcreditcardwerestillgone.IthoughtIhad beenveryluckyafterall. TheroadtoAlexandriahadmilitaryonitalltheway.ImmediatelyoutsideMatruh averypukkaofficerwithadappermoustachesatbehindadeskinanopentent. HeaskedformypermittotraveltoAlex.Ibroughtoutallmypapers.Itwasnot amongthem,hesaid.IbegantosuspectthatImightstillnotbeinEgyptafterall. Then,purelybychanceIfoundthescrapofpaperthathadbeenfilledinbythe semiilliteratepoliceclerk,thatmyrolypolyguidehaddismissedasunimportant. Itwas,infact,theonlypieceofpaperIreallyneeded. Ontheroad,thenewwarandtheoldoneblendedtogether.Warcemeteries, thirtyyearoldtanks,routinginstructionsforMonty'sarmiesstillscrawledonsemi ruinedwalls,andElAlameinwhereIhadagoodlunchandapintofbeerfora dollar.

MatruhtoAlex,onehundredandeightyonemiles,thehottestmilessofar.An older,narrower,bumpierroadthantheLibyanhighway.Thecoastwasabsurdly picturesque.Onapostcardonewouldhavesaidtheprintingwasfartoogarish. Turquoisesea,radiantsand.Smallhomesteadsbytheroadside,donkeysand camelsploughing,turningoverthetopthreeinchesofsandysoilwithwooden ploughs.Gracefulwomeninbrilliantlycoloureddresscarryingwaterontheir heads.Then,moreandmorehouses,gardens,andjustbeforetheplungeinto thecityanextraordinaryareaofwhitestone,whippedandcarvedandflunginto wavesandtroughslikeahighseasuddenlyturnedtosalt. ThenAlexandria,andinthetwilightanendlessscramblethroughmilesofcobbled docksidestreets,tramlines,madtrafficandpeopleinevergreatercompression, nowheretogo,nofriendsoffriendstotelephone.ThefateIescapedinPalermo caughtupwithmeinAlexandria.Ibrokethroughthecommercialareasatlastinto agardensquareontheseafront,andparkedoppositeanexpensivehotelcalled 'TheCecil'.AsInudgedthefrontwheelagainstthekerbandlookedbehindmeI sawblacksmokeroundtheexhaustpipes.IknewIwasintrouble,butrefused tothinkaboutit.Athinmaninabluejellabaandheadclothappearedatmyside. 'Youwanthottle'hesaid.Iagreed,andfollowedhimroundbehindtheCeciland intoahigholdParisianstylebuilding.Heaskedmeforacoinandfeditintoaslot inthelift.Theliftdigesteditslowlyandbegantorumbleupwards.Thelandings wereopenandAlexandrianlifeseemedtorevealitselfbylayers.Onthetopfloor wasthePensionNormandie. Icouldnothaveaskedforabetterplace.Itwascheap,clean,authentic,owned byacuddlyFrenchwidowandrunonherbehalfwithdotingindulgencebyan elderlyemployeecalledGeorges.Inoticedonlytwootherguestsandbothwere French.Onewasabluffmiddleagedmanwithahandsome,ruddyfaceandfair hairturningtowhite.Headoredcompetitiveconversation,inwhichtheobjectis eithertosaporcapthelastspeaker'sstory,asortofverbalbridge.Hisanecdotes wereplannedanddeliveredmorewiththeintentionoffrustratingtheopposition andkeepingtheplaythansimplytoamuse,butitamountedtomuchthesame thing,forhewasaskilfulplayerandhisstoriesabouttheResistancewerenewto me.HetaughtFrenchatauniversityinCairo.Theotherguest,anotherFrench widow,hadbeenmarriedtoaverywealthyEgyptianinKingFarouk'stimeand wasnowretiredonasmallincome.Shealsotoldlanguidtalesoflifeinthedays ofsashesandcummerbundsandtenfootweddingcakes,allveryreminiscentof St.PetersburgundertheCzars,andcouldherselfhavebeenaRussianDuchess, angular,erect,alwayscarefullygroomed,andlightlyvarnishedallover. MadameMellasse,theowner,wouldkickoffherslippersandfoldherplump stockingedlegsonthesofathewidowsatunderalampstandexaminingher carminenailsandutteringherbrittleremarkstheprofessor,ingoodvoice, dominatedtheproceedingsandI,Isuppose,broughtnewsfromthefrontrather likeayoungcavalryofficeronleave.Wemadeaquaintlyperiodquartet. IcarriedoutmyfirstevermajormotorcycleoverhaulinAlexandria.Bothpistons,I found,weredeformedbyheat,andIhadonlyonesparepistonwithme(apiece ofnonsensewhichinspiredmorewavesoftelepathicprofanitytoburntheearsof Meriden).IfoundacavernousgaragenearRamilliesStationandhaggledbitterly overfivepiastresfortherighttoworkthere,andthenreceivedmanytimesthat amountbackintea,cigarettes,snacksandtruefriendshipfromthepoormenwho struggledtoearnalivelihoodinthatplace.

Itooktwodaystodoajobthatmightbedoneintwoorthreehours,butevery movewasfraughtwithdanger.AlreadyIknewthattherewouldbenochanceat allofgettingsparepartsintoEgypt.Idarednotmakeamistake.Thepistonshad seizedtheirrings,andIreplacedthelessdistortedoneaftersculptingtheslots witharazorblade.Itseemedtheonlythingtodo.IprayedthatIwasright.Ihad norealideaaboutwhathadcausedtheoverheatingafteronlyfourthousand miles,andfeltrathergloomyaboutit. ThereweremanyBritishmotorcyclespumpingroundthestreetsandsomeshops stillhadstocksofpartsforthem,buttheyweresinglecylinderBSAs,Enfields, AJSsofancientvintage.ItwaswarmingtoseealltheseoldBritishbikesplodding onaftertwentyyearsormoreandobviouslyheldinhighesteem,butitwasrather patheticalso.Iknewthatitwasonlyeconomicpolicythatpreventedthem importingnewmachines,andthatsmallJapanesebikeswouldbemuchbetter suitedtothem.IftheJapaneseevergotafoothold,Britishbikeswouldquickly becomeonlyanostalgicmemory.Therewassomuchgoodwilltowardsusthatit seemedcriminaltofritteritaway,yetwehadnothingtooffernowincompetition. WhentheTriumphwasallbuttonedupagainItesteditrathernervously.Thefirst cloudsofsmokefrightenedthelifeoutofmebutwhentheexcessoilwasburned away,itrancleanandsoundedfine.OnlythendidIallowmyselftheluxuryof lookingatthecity. IttookmeanhourtoclearthegreaseoutofmyfingernailsintheNormandie's bathroom.Iadmiredthetiles,theoldfashionedfittingsand,asIstoodbythesink nexttothelavatory,abowlofWesterndesign,Inoticedforthefirsttimeabrass valvewheelstickingoutofthewall.ItsfunctionwasobscuresoIgaveitaturnto seewhatwouldhappen,andajetofwaterhitmeinthechest.InstinctivelyI turneditoff,andlookedforthesourceofthemischief,feelinglikethevictimofa practicaljoke.Ittookmesomewhiletonoticetheslendercopperpipepointing straightatmeoutofthebowlofthelavatory.OnceIhadseenitIcouldn'tquite believeit,andhadtoplaywithitawhile,watchingit,buteventhislatest sophisticationinorientaltoiletrydidnotconvertme,andIwentonleavingmy papertrailacrossthefaceofAfrica. TheobviousplacetowalktofromtheNormandiewastheseafront,onlya hundredyardsaway.InmylinenjacketandwhitetrousersIstrolledalongthe promenade,camerasslungostentatiouslyroundmyneck,andraisedthe telephotolensexperimentallytolookatthelighthouse.OnemomentIhadbeen lookingforsomeonetophotograph,nextmomentIwassurrounded.Ahand seizedmyshoulder,avoiceshoutedhystericallyclosetomyear.Peoplecame rushingtowardsme.Itseemedtomethattheyappearedfromnowhere,outofthe cracksinthepavement.Themanwhohadmeinhisgripwasmuchsmallerthan me.HeworeadirtybrownfezandajumperoveraTshirt,somethingIhave alwaysconsideredasuresignofbadtaste.Hisfacewasdistortedbyhate,his veinsandtendonsstoodoutthrobbing. 'Fromwhereyoucome?'hescreamed,againandagain,andwhen IsaidEnglandhewentonscreaming.'No.No.Fromwhereyoucome?' ThetruthisIhadcompletelyforgottenaboutthewar. Fortunatelytherewasanavalbarracksjustalongtheroad,andsomenaval policearrivedbeforethemobgrewbigenoughtolynchme.Thesailorswereall fortreatingmeinacivilizedway,butmycaptorinsistedthattheypinmyarms

behindmybackandfrogmarchmeoff.Hewouldhavelikedtoseeme blindfoldedandledbeforeafiringsquadthereandthen. Assoonaswegotintothenavyyard,theyletgoofmeandapologizedprofusely. Theapologiesweretakenupmoreelaboratelybycaptains,majorsandfinallya colonelwhoaskedmetopleasenotletthisunfortunateincidentcolourmygood opinionofEgypt.EventuallyabluejeepwasarrangedtotakemetotheGeneral inCommandofthedefenceofAlexandria. Thegeneral,likealltheotherofficers,hadabedmadeupinhisoffice.Hisdesk wasburdenedwithagreatquantityofpatentmedicinesandtonicsaswellas paperwork,andhelookeddyspeptic,myopicandtired,buthereceivedmewith muchgrace,devotedtenminutestodiscussingmyjourney,themeritsofPentax camerasandthepublicitythatTriumphwouldundoubtedlyget.BynowIhad learnedalwaystoproducetheSundayTimescuttingwithmypicture.Itopened moredoorsthanmypassportdid. Thegeneraltookthefilmfromthecamera,anewrollwithnothingonit,wished meluckandreturnedreluctantlytohiswar.Abrigadiernextdoorgavemetea andtalkedfondlyoftheyearshehadspentlivinginLondonnexttoHarrods.I wasreturnedtothepromenadeandturnedloose. IwentbacktotheNormandie,dumpedthecameras,changedmyswankjacket foradisreputablesweater,andwentoutagaindeterminedtoseesomethingof Alexandria.Notfaraway,IfoundthesortofareaIhadbeenlookingfor,apoor workingneighbourhoodcrammedwithtinylockupshops,peoplecaningchairs, pluckingchickens,bundlingfirewood,countingemptybottles,scoopinggrainout ofsacksintosmallconesofthickgreypaper,beatingdonkeys,draggingtrolleys, recuperatingscrapsofeverythingunderthesun.Asmallboyinrags,no,inone rag,hadhiscapitalspreadonthekerbstoneinaluminiumcoinsandwascounting itsolemnlyasthoughabouttomakeanimportantinvestment.Anumberof delicategiltchairsstoodtiptoeonthepavement,likerefugeesfromarevolution, havingtheirseatsstuffed. Iwasstandingfascinatedinfrontofadisplayofdriedbeansswarmingwith weevil,whenahandfellonmyshoulder.Iturnedtofaceamaninagrubbyblue suitwithamourningbandonhisarm.Hemadethesignforpapers'andIhadto swallowmyirritation,becauseIhadleftmypapersinmyjacket.Hehandedmeto anotherman,similarlydressedbutlessshavenandmorevillainous.Theyhadthe samehardedgetotheirexpressionsthatIhadseenonthepoliceinTunis.They satmeonachairoutsideacafe.Acrowdofpeoplebegantogather,murmuring 'Yehudi'.Theproprietorcameoutwithabucketofwaterandthrewitoverthem. Theyscatteredandreformed,pressingcloser.The'chiefdecidedtotakemeto hisheadquarters,ahutchburiedunderthestaircaseofabuildingacrossthe road,eightfootsquare,windowless,andlinedwith'wanted'pictures.Itwasthe sortofplacewhere'B'movieheroesareusuallybeatenup,andforthefirsttimeI begantosquirmalittle.Duringbotharrests,Ihadsurprisedmyselfbyremaining verycoolanddetached,andIwasinterestedtoseehowdisarmingmybehaviour hadbeeninthefaceofpossibleviolence.Now,asIsatagainstawall,facingthe door,whereprivilegedonlookerswereallowedtopeerinatagenuineIsraelispy, Ibegantoreconsidermytactics.Iwatchedafirehosebeingdraggedalongthe corridortothestreet,wherethecrowdhadevidentlybecomeamob,andthought howhelplessIwasandhowmuchIpreferredbeingwiththenavy.Thenthechief broughtacupofcoffee,andthetimeforabeatinghadevidentlypassed.

Theepisodedraggedon,however,fortherestoftheafternoon.Iwasdrivento policeheadquarters,thentotheNormandieformypapers,thenbacktothe police,andatlastletgo.Therewasalotofwaiting,butnoattemptatugliness.I gottoknowanumberofpoliceandtheirrelations,buttobearrestedtwiceinone hourwasenoughtoconvincemethatmythirdattemptmightbeunlucky.Igotmy bikeoutandrodetoKingFarouk'soldsummerpalace,theMontasah,tosneerat thevulgarityofit,toadmirethecoollightinside,andtobewonover,finally,by thebathroomshowerswhichoperatedsomewhatlikeamoderndishwashing machine,andwerenodoubtsuppliedbyHarrods. Thewarnewswasnotgood.TensionwasrisingatKilometre101wherethe opposingsideswerediscussinganarmistice.IdecidedtohurryontoCairoand theSudan.AlreadyIguessedthatIwouldberefusedpermissiontoridetheroad toAswan.Bigtroopconcentrations,radarinstallationsandairfieldsweresaidto liealongtheroad.Ifthetrainwasmyonlywaysouth,thenthesoonerIgotonit thebetter. IhadalastlunchattheNormandie,strandedontheshoresoftimewithmythree exilesfrombetterdays.SpeakingFrench,whichwasthehotellanguage,the professorentertainedtheladieswithanaccountofmyescapades. 'Itwouldbeapparenttoababeinarmsthatourfriendsetoutyesterdaymorning determinedtoprovokeanincident.Whenhiscamerasandhisobviouslysinister wardrobefailedtodothetrick,heclimbedona pedestalandpointedhistelephotolensataRussiansubmarineintheharbour. However,his"arrest"bytheNavywasdisappointinglycivilizedandapologetic. HethereforeexchangedhisjacketforanIsraelisweater,deliberatelyabandoned hispapers,andsaunteredofftotheroughestneighbourhoodavailabletobehave asmuchlikeaspyaspossible.Andincasethatwasinsufficient,hemadesureof popularhostilitybydrawingattentiontoamerchant'sinfestedbeans,saying"In TelAviv,wehavelawsagainstthiskindofthing."' Therewasmuchlaughter,andperhapsagrainoftruth. Attheendofthelunch,justasIwasabouttoleave,atelegramarrivedforthe Frenchman.Heopenedit,drewasharpbreath,andstaredatit. 'Mysonisdead,'hesaid.Tknewit.' Hewaspetrifiedbygrief.Hewasinconsolable,andimmovable.Noneofuscould findanythingtosay.Imurmuredgoodbye,andleft.OnmywaytoCairoI reflected,uneasily,thatalotofthingswerehappeningtomeandaroundme. Everyday,itseemed,addeditsquotaofsignificantencounters,eventsand revelations.Weretheyalreadythere,waitingtohappen,ordidIbringthemwith me?Couldturbulenceandchangebe'carried'andtransmittedlikeadisease?I knewIhadbroughtexcitementintothosethreelives,butthenewsfromthefront wasnotalwaysgood.Iwondered,unhappily,whetherIwasdestinedtoleavea trailofgriefandmiserybehindmetoo.'Whatcolossalarrogance,'Ithought,but couldnotquitebrushtheideaaside. FromCairotoAswanthetrainranforanightandaday.Iboardedattheblacked outstationinatumultuousrushofbodiestoshareatwoberthsleeperwithafat middleclassEgyptianinrobesandturban.Ialsosharedthesumptuouschicken feasthehadbroughtbundledinalargewhitenapkin,andhepolitelyaccepteda bitofmyfruit.Wemunchedtogethercontentedlyuntilitwastimetosleep, undistractedbyeffortsatconversationbecausehespokeonlyArabic.

MostofthefollowingdayIwatchedEgyptandtheNilepassbyfromthedining carwindow.Isawnomissilepadsorairfields,thoughacompanyofnewlydrafted soldierscameonboardforashortdistance.Therewasabruisedastonishmentin theireyesthatbroughtbacksharpmemoriesofmyfirstweeksasaconscript. Ienjoyedthetrain,butresentedtheonwardrushofit,thatrationedmetosuch fleetingglimpsesoflifeoutside.Itwasaquitedifferentworld,Irealized,viewed throughthisthickscreenofplateglass. AtoneoftheinexplicablestopstrainsmakebetweenstationsIfoundmyself lookingdowndirectlyontoaricefieldbesidethetrackwhereagrizzledoldman andaboywereturningthesoilwithhoes.Themanworeonlyatatteredgalabeia. Asheleanedforwardtochopatthemuditrevealedthewholeofhisstringybody tighteningwitheffortandhisgenitalsswingingbackandforth.Besidehimstooda womaninablackrobeandshawl,alsooldbutslimandperfectlyerect.In contrasttotheoldman'scoarse,dullface,herfeatureswereexquisitelydrawn. Hereyebrows,nostrilsandmouthwerearchedlikespringsteelundertension, expressingcompleteauthorityandcontemptforhercircumstances.Shehelda longandslendercane,likeawizard'swand,andsupervisedtheworkwith smoulderingeyes. Pharaoh'sdaughtercouldnothavelookedmorehandsomeorcommandingthan thiswomanstandingbarefootedinaricepaddy.Thegroupwasquiteobliviousof thetrainorofmystares.Isawthattherewasnothingtheyworeorusedthatthey mightnothavehadthousandsofyearsago.IfIcoulddiscover,Ithought,the secretofthiswoman'spresenceandtheoldman'ssubmissionImighthavethe storyofEgypt,butbeforeIcouldmelttheglasswithmyeyesthetraintookme away. TheferryistiedupatawoodenwharfabovetheAswanDam.Itisnotoneboat buttwotwosmallpaddlesteamerslashedtogetherandrunonasinglepaddle. ThenearestoneisFirstClass.IandthebikehavetocrosstotheSecondClass boat.Whilethisisnoproblemforme,Icanseeimmediatelythatitwillbe impossibletomanhandlethebikethere.Icanseethat,buttheporterscansee onlyagloriousopportunitytoearnafortuneinbaksheeshbyachievingthe impossible. 'Yes,yes,yes,'theyscreamand,inaflurryofbrownlimbs,theyfightwiththe Triumphupagangplank,overarailintoanarrowgangway,throughhatches, oversillsandbollards,fourhundredpoundsofmetaldragging,sliding,flyingand droppingamongroarsandcursesandpleasfordivineaid,whileIfollowhelpless andresigned.Finallythebikeispoisedoverthewaterbetweenthetwoboats. Theoutstretchedarmscanonlyholdit,theycannotmoveit,anditissupported, incredibly,bythefootbrakepedalwhichiscaughtontheship'srail.Musclesare weakening.Thepedalisbendingandwillsoonslip,andmyjourneywillendinthe fathomlesssiltofMotherNile.Atthislastmoment,aropedescendsmiraculously fromtheskydanglingahook,andthedayissaved. ForthreedaysandtwonightsIdriftuptheNilealongLakeNasser.Thesunrises andsunsetsaresoextraordinarilybeautifulthatmybodyturnsinsideoutand emptiesmyheartintothesky.Thestarsarecloseenoughtograsp.Lyingonthe roofoftheferryatnightIbeginatlasttoknowtheconstellations,andstarta personalrelationshipwiththatparticularlittleclusterofjewelscalledthePleiades whichnestlesintheskynotfarfromOrion'sbeltandsword.Really,thosestars, whentheycomethatclose,youhavetotakethemseriously.

IsleepillegallyontheroofoftheFirstClassboat,becausetheSecondClass deckisindescribable.Iwouldratherswimthansleepthere.HundredsofNubian cameldriversarereturningtotheSudan,withtheirhugehidebagsandwhips,to pickupanotherconsignmentofcamelsanddrivethemremorselesslyupinto Egypt.Theyarealldressedingrubbywhite,andliesidebysideamongtheir bundlesacrossthedeck.Thecrevicesbetweenthemarecaulkedwithamixture oforangepeel,cigaretteendsandspit.Thehawkingandspitting,whichisa constantbackgroundmurmurtoArablife,hererisestobecomethedominant sound,louderthanspeech,louderthantheferry'sengine,drownedoutonly,and rarely,bytheship'shooter.Lungsraspandrip,youcanhearthetissuestearinto shreds,andtheglutinousproductfliesinalldirections.Iamnotreadyforthatyet. DuringthefirstnightwecrosstheTropicofCancer.Duringtheseconddaya Turkishpassengergoesmad.Hehasbeenlookingmorepaleanddrawnbythe hour.Now,withhisblackeyesbuttonedtothebackofhisbrainhebeginstotwirl inthesaloon,stoppingsuddenlytopointhisfingerandcastsomefatalspell.He collapses,thenrisestotwirlagain.Hiseyeshaveseensomethingtooterribleto beborne. TheferrytiesupinthenightsomewheresouthofAbuSimbel,andtheTurkis takenashore,butaftermuchdiscussionheisbroughtaboardagainandwe continue.WhenwelandatWadiHaifaatmiddayheisquiet. ImeanttoridefromWadiHaifa,butthepolicesayImusttakethetrainatleastas farasAbuHamed,andIcannotgetpetrolwithoutthehelpofthepolice.Ihave madefriendswithaDutchcouple,andonceonthetrainImightaswellgowith themasfarasAtbara.What'safewmoremilesinthewholeofAfrica? Thetrainrattlesonthroughbeer,supper,songs,sleep,teaandEnglishbreakfast. Intheoval,engravedmirrorofacolonialdiningcarIactuallytakenoticeofmy faceforthefirsttimeinalongwhile.Actionhasfreedmefromself consciousness,andIambecomingastrangertomyownappearance.Itisavery satisfyingfeeling.InolongerthinkofpeopleseeingmeasIseemyselfina mirror.InsteadIimaginethatpeoplecanseedirectlyintomysoul.Itisasthough ascreenbetweenmeandtheworldhasdroppedaway. Throughthecarriagewindowthedeserthasbeensweepingpast,almost unbroken,forhours.Istareatitmesmerized,tryingtoimaginemyselfridingover it.Nowtherearesignsoflife:someanimalsmorethorntrees,tentsandhuts.The trainslows.AtbaraStation.Thecorridorisjammedwithpeopleandbundles.My mindisingearagain.Tomeettroublehalfway,whatdisastersshallIanticipate now?Perhapsebikehasvanishedoffthetrainsomewhereenroute?Maybehalf ofitwillbemissing?OrIwillbeaskedtobribesomeonetounloadit? Thewheelsscreechontherails.Thecrowdtumblesoff.Thebikeisstillthere. Nothingismissing.Therearenoproblems.Tomethisisasortofmiracle.Iwheel ittowheremybagsareheapedontheplatformandpackthemonaschildren peerintothespeedometerwheretheybelievethesoulofthemachinetoreside.I floodthecarburettor.ForGod'ssakestart!Don'tgivemeanytrouble.It'stoohot towrestlewithyounow. Onekickandshestarts.Youlovelymachine. Firsttothepolice,toberegisteredasanalien.Thelocomotiveishissingand pantinginthestation.Icanhearitacrosstheroad.Ithowlsandclanksinto action.Plunk,plunk,plunkplunkplunkplunkasthetrain'svertebraestretch.It

rollsawaytoKhartoum,butnowthereismorenoise,andagitationcontinueswith ataxiformyfriends,andthebikefollowing,tofindahotel.Thehotel. Atbaraisafrontiertownmudhouses,woodenfacades,andtheenvelopingdirt roadfillingallthespacesbetweenlikeabrownfloodreadytoreclaimitall.Here isamoreimposingstreet,redbrickandcement.Isthisthehotel?Westop.The taxileaves,butthetravellingnoisegoesoninmyhead.We'renotthereyet.The buildinglooksabandoned. 'Hotel?' Anoldmansweepingleavesshakeshisheadangrily,andpointsdownthestreet. Alongsidethenextbuildingisanalley.Itdebouchesintoagardenwithtablesand chairsrootedhereandthereamongtheweeds.Acementedverandaattheback ofthebuildinggivesaccesstoaseriesofclosedgreendoors.Hotel! Ataroundirontablesitfivemen. 'Hotel?' 'Hotel,yes.Comeandsit.' Onelasteffort,tofetchthebikeintothegarden,parkitagainsttheveranda,close thepetroltap,walktothetable...andsit.Thenoisestops. Thesunisgettinglownow,thelightisyellowandgrainy.Thefivemenare gatheredlikeaconspiracyofpantomimepirates.Onehasablackeyepatch, anotheravividscar.Theonenexttome,anArabingalabeiaandturban,hasa squintandathinlippedsmileofartlessevil.Everychildintheaudienceknowshe hasadaggerunderhisrobe. Thetableisladenwithdatesherrybottles,allemptybutone.Withexaggerated hospitalitytheArabsweepsupthesleevesofhisgalabeiaandpoursoutglasses fortheDutchcoupleandmyself.YoHoHoandabottleofdatesherry. Thepiratesarepassingajointround.TheArabwavesitintheairandmurmurs sibilantnonsenseasthoughinahazeofmellowstupefaction,buthiseyeismuch toobright.Thescentofthesmokeisdelicious,thesilencearoundusislikeacool bath.Isanythingmorerelaxingthanthehospitalityofharmlessvillains?HowdoI knowthey'reharmless?Idon't,andyetIdo. TheArabinvestsinanotherbottleofsherryandwesitforanhourasthesun goesdown,lostinlazycontentment.DuringthathourIfeelIhavearrivedinthe Sudan. Amuscularblackmancomestowardsus,urgently,asksustocometothehotel. Thebarisopennow,andanakedbulbisshiningdownonuglyplasticsurfaces.I amveryreluctanttoleavethegarden.Themaninsists.Hehasatigerishbody, toorestrainedinhisneatshirtandtrousers. Iamcomingtoseeifyouarealright,andIfindyousittingwithabadman.Iam Pabiano,'hesaid,'MynameisMunduk,mybrotherisinthepolice.Thatmanis notgood.Heisateep.Heisonlypretending drunksothatotherswillbecome drunk.Thenhestealpromyourpocket.Hehasbeeninprison.' Ilookbacktothetable.InthelastfaintlighttheArabhastwistedinhischairto lookatus,onearmoutstretchedtowardsus,thelongcottonsleevetrailing, imploringustoreturn.Ifeelasadaffectionforhim.Therewasakindof understanding. ThreenightsinAtbara.Fromtheceilinghangsanenormouspropeller,slowly kneadingthethicknightair.DuringthedaysIprepareforthedesert.Thereisan obstinateelectricalfaultinthebike.Itakethelensofftheheadlamp,anditspills wiringovertheveranda,pitifully,asthoughvomitingitsentrails.Iworkonitas

martialmusicdriftsacrossthewallfromaschoolSportsDay.Byeveningthebike isrepaired,theherniasewnup.Ihavebeenconsideringhowtocarrywater.I havebroughtacollapsibleplasticcontainer,andcancarryagallononthebackof thebike,butIamnotquiteconvinceditwillworkandIwantareserve.IfIfillthe aluminiumbottlewithdistilledwater,thenIcanusethatforthebatteriesalso.A garagefillsthebottleforme.Ihavetocrosstwohundredandfiftymilesofdesert toKassalaandthenextpetrolpump.Withthreegallonsinthetank,andthejerry halffullIshouldhaveplenty.TomorrowIwillbuymore,justincase.TodayIcan't becauseIhaven'tenoughmoney.ItisSundayandthebanksareclosed. IhaveaskedeveryoneaboutthewaytoKassala.Theyallsayitis'queiss',which meansgood.ThomasTabanDuku,theregistrarofaliens,saidso.Itwasmore usualforpeopletogotoKhartoum,butmanybusesgotoKassala,atleastone eachday.Hecouldnotrememberanyonecomingbymotorcyclebefore,butthen, hesaid,amotorcyclecangoanywhere.Ifabuscango,thensocana motorcycle,isn'tit?Andfastereven.'Theroadisqueiss'.Hewasquietly confident. Soisthemanatthehotel.Hesaysit'sagoodroad,nowtherainshavegone. AndtheMichelinmapcallsitamarkedandrecognizedtrack. Mundukalsosaysitwillbeeasy.Hecomestothehotel,andthatevening,under awaxingmoon,wevisithishousetoseehowtomakedatesherryathome,and thentolookattheNile. 'HereistheBlueNile,'hesays.'TheWhiteNileisonedaywalkingfromhere.' Heiswrong.TheBlueNilejoinstheWhiteNileatKhartoumtwohundredmiles upstream.Howcanhebesowrongaboutsomethinglikethat?Whoknows? AwayfromWesterncitiesyougetusedtoit.Ifyouwanttoknowsomething,you askagainandagain.Whenmanyopinionsruntogethertheythickentoforma fact.Isn'tthattheessenceofmoderntheoreticalphysics?Sooftenitseemsthat everyscientificprinciplehasitscounterpartinsocialbehaviour.Simon's Hypothesis?Waves&Particles.CriticalMass.Fission,fusion,allof thermodynamicsandMaxwell'sDemonastheexceptionthatprovestherule... Myheadisflyingandmyfeetslipintothemarsh.EyePierceHeaven,FootStick inMud.AsIstumbleoutIseeMundukprowlingroundsomebushes,morelikea tigerthanever,sniffingtheair,cockinghisear.HeremindsmeofCastaneda's DonGenarolookingforacarunderastone. 'Serpent,'hesays.'Orsomeanimalmaybe.Ishowyouhowwehuntinthebush.' Heandhissixbrothers,hesays,fledtoUgandawhentheMoslemskilledhis parentsinthewar.Theylivedbyhuntinginthebush.Nowallhisbrothersare famous.Sohesays.Whynotbelievehim,untilitbecomesimportant? Atbaraisamongthehottestplacesintheworld.Insummeritgoesto110 degreesintheshade.Inwinteritsimmersatafewdegreesbelowninety.Shops dotheirbusinessearlyandlateintheday.Banks,Ithought,woulddolikewise. Butno.InAtbara,aseverywhereelseintheworld,bankersfollowedtheirown inscrutablewhims.Openingtimewasninethirty. Itwasalreadyhalfpastseven.Iwaspacked,paidup,bookedout,andreadyto go.Bytenthelastcoolhoursofthemorningwouldhaveevaporated.IthoughtI hadenoughpetrol.WhatneedcouldIhaveformoneyinthedesert?Thetime wasripetobeginmygreatadventure,tocatchthetide. IrodeoutofAtbaradirectedbydry,blackfingers. 'Queiss,queiss,'saidtheownersofthefingers.'Roadgood,thisway.'

Atbara'sonlystretchoftarmacgavewaytomud.IwentpasttheEthiopian prostitutes'quarter,alongsidealastrowofmudhousesandcametoapieceof stonygroundsurroundedbythorntrees.Spreadoutbeforemewasavastheap ofstinkingrubbish.Noroad.Notasignofaroad.Iwasnotlookingfortaror pavingorevenmadeupdirt,buttherewasnotsomuchasatrack. Thedifferencebetweenmenandgodsisfarce. Duringallthemonthsofpreparation,thegirdingofloinsandsteelingofresolve, theonefeatwhichIthoughtwouldsetmeapartfrommortalmenwasmysingle handedcrossingoftheAtbaradesert. AndnowIcouldnotfindit. Irodebackintotowntoaskagain.OncemoreIfollowedthefingers,other fingers,alongthesameroute.Icouldfindnootherway. TwiceIinspectedAtbara'sgarbage,andtwiceIreturned.Iwasinafeverof impatienceandIfeltcompletelyridiculous.IfNeilArmstronghadlosthiswayto thelaunchingpadhecouldnothavebeenmorefrustrated. TherewasapolicestationalongthewaywhichIhadcarefullyavoided,butnowI couldthinkofnowhereelsetogoforanexplanation.Iwasalwaysafraidof involvingmyselfunnecessarilywithofficials.Generallywhenamaninuniform hassomethingunusualbroughttohisattention,hisinstinctistostopit.Uniformis asuniformdoes.Therearehonourableexceptionshowever.TheAtbarapolice delayedme,buttheydidnotstopme,andtheyexplainedthattheroadtoKassala did,indeed,gopasttherubbishtip.AndIbegantounderstand,withsome embarrassment,thatinSudaneseEnglishtheword'road'hasnomineral connections,itsimplymeans'theway'.Ihadfallenintothesimplestlinguistic trap,imaginingthattheroadhadaphysicalreality.Therewasnoroadonlyan imaginarylineacrossthedesert. Bynowitwasnearlynineo'clock.Ishouldhaveswallowedmypride,gonetothe bank,cooledoff,andleftthefollowingday,butIwasrollingunderthemomentum ofmyownfolly,andIknewIcouldnotstoporsomethingmightbreak.Adream, forinstance. ThistimeIroderoundtherubbishtip.Beyonditwasagapinthetrees.Throughit Isawtheopendesert.Totherightofthegapwasanotherheapoffreshgarbage, andasIrodepastitabigredeyemetmine. Theeyewaslevelwithmyown.Itwasinflamed,andencrustedwithdirt.Thedirt wasstickingtothefewvagranthairsthatremainedonitsbaldanddreadfulhead. Iwasdeeplyshockedbyit,androdeonbeforeIhadcollectedmywitsand assembledtheimages.ThenIsawthatitwasamonstrousbird,ofhuman proportions,withagreatpendulousbeakandlongandfilthywhiteneck.Iwanted toturnback,butIwascarriedonrelentlesslybysomeinnercurrent,andthebird becameforawhileamythicalbeastandguardianofthedesert. Irodeintothedesert.Itlookedflat,butofcourseitwasnot.Norwasitsandy,but madeofarathergreyish,fairlycompactstuffhalfwaybetweensandandsoil, litteredwithsmallshardsofstone.IfoundIcouldrideacrossitquiteeasily,and thefasterIwent,thesmoothertheride,thoughstoppingmightbeaproblem. Thequestionwas,whichwaytogo?Aheadandtotheleft,thedesertstretchedto infinity,onlyinterruptedbythewelldefinedprofileofanoccasionalumbrellatree. Totheright,however,perhapsamileaway,wasalineoftrees,whichIfirsttook tobetheedgeofaforest.ThenIrealizedthattheywerepalmtrees,andthatthey mustdefinethebedoftheAtbarariver,whichranfromAtbaratoKassala.Myfirst

greatfearwasdispelled.ObviouslyIcouldneverbelostinthedesertaslongasI kepttheriverbedinview. Alsothereweretyretracks,quitedeepones,madewhenthegroundwassofter attheendoftherains,buttheirdirectionwaspuzzling.Someheadedtowardsthe river,othersmadefortheheartofthedesert,nonefollowedtherouteIthoughtI shouldtake.Itriedtomoveclosertotheriver,butthegroundbecamesofterand occasionallyevendriftedintoduneswhichwouldcertainlyswallowmywheels.I wonderedwhetherthedesertboundtracksmightbeaimingforabetterand firmerrouteawayfromtheriver,andIfollowedoneforaway,butitshowedno signofbearingright,andastheriverlinewasalmostlosttosight,Ithoughtbetter ofitandheadedback. SoIsteeredamiddlecourse,andgainingconfidenceincreasedspeeduntilIwas doingnearlyfortymilesanhourinthirdgear.Then,quiteunexpectedly,twosets ofwheeltracksconvergedandintersectedinfrontofme.Icouldnotavoidthem, norcouldIstop.Ibouncedthroughthefirsttrackbutnosedivedonthesecond.I sawitcoming,andwasinterestedtonoticethatIdidnotsay'Christ'or'Fucking Hell'or'HereWegomyDarling'oreven'Sictransitgloria'.Isaid'Oops!' Anythingcouldhavehappened.Ihadneverfallenwithafullloadatanyspeed, andIwaspreparedforamajordisaster.Theresultwasimmenselyencouraging. Thebikeslidalongonitsside.TheCravenpannier,packedsolid,tooktheweight withafewscratches,andIfelleasilyandwithoutharm. Iwasshakingwithexcitementandrelief,buthadtogetthebikeuprightquickly beforeIlosttoomuchpetrol,andforonceIwasabletotwistitupfromthe handlebarswithoutunpackingit. ThenIfoundouthowhotIwas.Theeffort,andtheunusedadrenalin,hadme sweatingfromeverypore.Iwasdrenched.Ilookedatthemileageindicator.Ihad comeapproximatelyninemilesfromAtbarainjustoveranhour. Icontinuedmorecautiously,rarelyexceedingtwentymilesanhour.TwicemoreI fell,buteasily,comingalmosttoastandstillbeforetopplingover.AfterawhileI foundatyretrackwhichseemedtobefollowingfirmgroundintherightdirection. Occasionallyitmovedintowardstheriver,andonceIthoughtIsawahutamong thepalms,butimmediatelybeforethetreesthegroundwasverysoft,anddunes werereachingoutintothedesert.Istayedawayfromtheriver,andpickedmy trackupasitcameoutagainfurtheron. JustasIwasbeginningtofeelthatIhadfoundthewinningsystem,itledmeinto atrap.Aridgeofhighgroundformedonmyleft.Thetrackveeredright.Then suddenlyafenceappeared.Afenceinthedesert!Thetrackfollowedtheedgeof thefence,andthegroundbecamesofterandsofter.Iwasforcedtogofasterto stayontop,andthenitwastoolateandIwasburieduptotheaxleinfineash colouredsand. Fiftymilesinthreehours. Anothertwohundredmilestogo. Itwasplainlyimpossibletomovethebike,soIbegantounloadit.Inoticed immediatelythatmywaterbagwasempty,theplasticperforated,thecontents drainedaway.Well,atleastIhadalitreofdistilledwater. WithalltheluggageoffIglancedinthepetroltank.Haditbeenpossibleatthis stagetoshockme,Iwouldhavebeenshocked.Therewasonlyapuddleofpetrol left,hardlyagallon.Myfuelconsumptionwastwicewhatitshouldhavebeenand whenIthoughtaboutit,thatwasperfectlynatural.Grindingalonginsecondgear

overaloosesurfaceinsuchheat,itiswhatyouwouldexpect.OnlyI,ofcourse, hadnotexpectedit. BynowIwasassimilatinginformationlikearobot.Buriedinloosesand,with scarcelyenoughpetroltogethalfway,onelitreofdistilledwater,andnomoney.It wasveryplainthatIwasgoingtoneedhelp,thesortofhelpthatwashardto comebyinthebestofcircumstances.Wheredoyoulookforhelpinadesert? Therewasnopointingettingupset.Alltheridingandfallinghademptiedmeof surplusemotion.Ifeltfit,andstrongenoughtosurvivealongtime.Iftheworst cametotheworst,theriverwasnottoofaraway.Theremightevenbewaterinit. Isetaboutdiggingmyselfout. Scoopingthesandoutbyhandtookhalfanhour,butImanagedtomakealane backtothefirmerground.Therewasabitofbrushgrowingonthedunes,andI pavedmylanewithtwigs.Then,inchbyinch,Iwasabletohaulthebikebackto whereIwantedit.AgainIhadlostalotofsweat,andIgotthewaterbottleout.It waswarmtothetouch.Iputittomylips,andthenspatvigorouslyontheground, musteringasmuchofmyowngoodsalivaasIcould.Thebottlecontainedacid. Batteryacid. ItoccurredtomethatImighteasilyhavetakenaswig,insteadofasip.Iknew manywhowouldhavedone.AtleastIhadthatreserveofcaution.Inasilly,minor wayIwasencouraged,asthoughitentitledmetosurvive. Istartedlookingforabetterwayforward,andfoundone.WiththebikerepackedI wentalongslowly,hopingthefencemighthavesomethingtodowithpeople. Afteramilethegoinggoteasieragain.Thegroundflattened,hardened,and openedout.Imovedtowardstheriver.Therewerebuildings,afigureona donkey,amurmurofvoices. Thebiggestbuildingsweretwostoreyshighandstoodinsideacompound.The voicescamefromthere,andIrodeuptothecompoundgate,dismountedand walkedinside.Ayoungmaninablueshirtandkhaki trousersreceivedmegravelyasthoughIhadbeenexpected,andweexchanged greetings.'Salaam,salaam,salammat,salaamat,'andsoonfortheproper amountoftime,shakinghandsthewhile.Thenhefetchedmeabottleoffizzy orangeandintroducedmetotheheadmasterofKinedraSecondarySchoolfor Boys. WhenIhadexplainedmycircumstances,strugglingbetweenhonestyand embarrassment,Iwascomplimentedrichlyonmycourage,wisdom,initiativeand goodfortune,andtheschoolwasplacedatmydisposal.Therewerehundredsof boysandastaffofsixyoungmen,allanxioustodevotethemselveshenceforthto mybidding.AsfaraspossibleIallowedthemtocontinuewiththeirnormal routine,butitwasclearthatforthedurationofmystaythefunctioningofthe schoolbecameoflesserimportance.Onlyonethingwasdemandedofme.Imust stay.Therecouldbenoquestionofmygoingon. Fortunatelythiscoincidedverywellwithmyownideas. Iwastakentothedormitorysharedbytheteachers,andaspecialmealwas preparedandbroughttomebytheheadmaster,withdishesofdifferentmeats andvegetables,indeliciouspepperysauces.Ididnotdisgracemyself.Myfingers werenimbleandmypalatewasthoroughlyattuned.Iatewithrelishasthe teacherssataround,admiringandplyingmewithquestions.Atothermealtimes theyallatefromacommonbowlofmutton,vegetableandrice,scoopingupthe foodwithpiecesofanunleavenedbreadbakedfrommilletandcalled'kissera',

butIwasalwaysbroughtspeciallyprepareddishes.Theywerecookedbythe headmaster'swife,butIneversawher. Wediscussedthematterofpetrol,or'benzene'astheycalledit.Perhapsthe DistrictOfficeratSidonmighthavesome.Hehadacar. Sidon?Thatwasthetown,threemilesaway.Myconceptofthedesertwas undergoingsomechanges.InfiftymilesIhadnotseenalivingsoul,onlythe illusionofmovementonthehorizonwheretheheathazebentthelightandmade itsway.ThatwasthedesertasIhadimagineditsincechildhood,asIhadwanted ittobe,aplaceofaweinspiringemptinesswhereonlybleachedbonescouldbe atrest. Obviouslyitwasthat,butitwasalsoahomeforthousandsofpeoplewholived arounditandcrosseditfrequentlyasamatterofcourse.HadIbeen extraordinarilyluckytostumbleuponKinedra,orwastheworldamorehospitable placethanIhadeverrealized?Mymemoryflashedbacktothebeastlybird guardingthedesert.SupposingIhadbeenstrandedoutthere,onthatbaking ground,thinkingaboutmybonesbleachinginthesun,whatabirdofillomenthat wouldhavebeen.InsteadIwasbeingattendedtolikealord.WithlittleeffortI couldimaginetheheadmasterasasheik,theboysasslaves,thewallsashides, theschoolasagreatbedouinencampment,andIthehonouredenvoyofa distantmonarch. Suchexcellentfortune.Shouldn'tIthankthatredeyedmonster,andtreasureits memory,forteachingmetodropmysuperficialjudgementsandlettheworldbe whatitwas? Itriedtodescribethebirdtomyfriends,andatlasttheyrecognizeditas somethingtheycalleda'Bous',andscreweduptheirfacesinrevulsion.Ilater learnedtocallitaMarabou,astorkturnedscavenger,whichappearswithminor variationsacrossAfricaandAsia.Ialwaysthoughtofitwithpleasure,and recognizeditasafriend,althoughitwaseverywhereregardedwithloathing.It joinedthePleiadesasanallyonmyjourney.Therewereothercreatureswith whichIhadaspecialaffinity.Iwasagreatadmirerofgoats,donkeysandcamels fortheirleatherydeterminationtoendure,andwasalwaysgladwhentheywere around,buttheyhadnomagicpowerovermydestiny,Ifelt.Justfriends. ToshowmygratitudeIaskedwhethertheboysmightenjoyhearingmetellthem aboutmyjourney.Theteacherssaidtheywouldarrangesomethingthatevening, butfirsttheytookmeonaguidedtourtoseehowtheirvegetablesweregrown andirrigated.AnancientPerkinsdieselenginepumpedwaterfromtheAtbara riverinthewinter,andsopreciouswasthewaterthattheownerofthepumpgot halfthecropinpayment.Evenmorewonderfulthoughwasthenowdisused woodenconstructionwithinterlockingverticalandhorizontalgears,drivenbyan oxonacircularwalkway.Ithauledupwaterinbucketsonanendlesschain dippingintoadeepslotintheriverbank. Theydescribedhowthehouseswerebuiltupfromslabsofwetmud,onerowa daylefttobakeinthesun,taperingslightlytotheroofwhichismadeofsplitpalm andthatchandagaincoveredwithmud.Theword'mud'innowaydoesjusticeto thesehouses. Withtheirrichyellowcolour,theimpressionofenormousmass exaggeratedbytheinclinedwallsandabsenceofwindows,theylookedmorelike greatingotsofgold.Thespaceinside,dark,coolandmysterious,hadmorein commonwiththeinteriorofacavethanahouse.Infact,passingthroughthedoor

ofsuchahousefromthedesertatmiddaywouldbelikedroppingmagicallyinto someotherdimensionofspaceandtime.OrsoIfancied. IntheeveningtheteacherstookofftheirWesternclothingandputongalabeias. Theboysworenothingelse.Initssimplesteverydayformthegalabeiaisnomore thanacottonshiftwithfloppysleeves,andIwasgivenonealsotowearandto sleepin.Thatevening,however,theseniormasterworeamorevoluminousand elaboraterobe,crisplylaundered,andaturban.Hesaidtheboyshadbeen assembledtohearfromme,andIchangedbackintomytravellingclothestogive themabetterideaofit. Ihadgivennothoughttohowitwouldbedone,andIwasrathertakenaback.A rostrumhadbeensetupoutsideontheopenground,witha lamp.Theboys,allinwhite,satonthegroundinahugecircle,andbeyondthem wasonlythevelvetnight. ThemastertranslatedmysimpleaccountintoArabic.Theboyslistened,and laughedattherightplaces.Thentheyaskedquestions. 'Howoftendoyouwritetoyourmother?' 'Doyoualwayswearthoseboots?' 'Howdoyougetthemoney?' Andothersensiblethingslikethat. Thesettingwasdramaticallybeautiful,thewholethinghadtheairofagreat theatricalevent,andIwasrathercarriedawaybyit,butthekidsbroughtme downtoearthagain.Thankheavenforlittleboys. NextdayItookmyfivegallonjerryandwalkedthethreemilestoSidon,across paddiesandthroughscraggytrees.TheDistrictCommissionerreceivedmewith interestandchangedatraveller'schequeforme,buthehadonlyenoughpetrol, hesaid,togethisownLandrovertoKassala.HethoughtIwouldbeluckytofind any,becausemostofthetrafficthatcamethroughwasdiesel. IbegantofacetheunpalatabletruthIwouldhavetogobacktoAtbaraforpetrol. ApparentlyabuswasduetocomethroughfromKassalathatevening.Itwould stopinthesquare. TheteacheraccompanyingmetookmetotheelementaryschoolinSidon,and leftmeinthecareofafieryheadmastercalledMustafawhotriedhardtoconvert metotheMuslimfaith,andkeptmeentertainedthroughtheafternoon.Inthe earlyeveningheintroducedmetoanothermanwhowasalsoonhiswayto Atbara. Wedrankteatogether,andthenMustafaleftsaying: 'Heisarichmerchant.Hewilltakecareofyou.' Ilookedatthemerchantwithinterest,butmycuriositywasunrewarded.Hisface wassmoothandunmarked,ifashadeplump.Hecouldhavebeenanyagefrom twentyfivetofortyfive,thoughhisstatusindicatedage.Hissmilerevealedtwo rowsofexcellentwhiteteethandnothingmore.Hisbody,probablywellfed,was hiddenbythefoldsofanexpensivewhiterobeandheworeavoluminousturban. HespokenoEnglishandhisexpressionwasascontrolledasitwascourteous. ThesquareofSidonissimplyapieceofdesert,asbigandstarkasaparade ground.Alongonesideisalineoflowmudbuildingswiththicklyencrustedroofs slopingintothesquareandleaningonpillarstomakeashelteredwalkway.The roofs,wallsandpillarsflowtogetherandtheentirerowlooksasthoughitwere madefromonepieceofclaybyagianthand. Atoneendoftherowwasateashop,andwewaitedthereastheskydimmed andtheheatsubsided.Lifeinthesquaredieddownuntiltherewasonlythe

proprietoroftheteashopandoneotherman.Anoillampwaslitintheshopand bythethickyellowflameandtheredglowofthecharcoalstoveIwatchedthem. Theyspokebetweenlongpauses.Occasionallyonewouldrollupthephlegmin histhroatanddischargeit,staccato,tothefloor. Thebuildingsacrossthesquaredissolvedinthedarknessandwereforgotten. Thenightswallowedallexceptthelittleoasisoflifebytheteashop.Sooneven theshopclosed.ThemerchantandIlayonthesoft,drysand,theonlytwo mortalsleftintheuniverse,waiting. Wetriedfromtimetotimetospeaktoeachother.Ihadasmallvocabularyof Arabic,enoughtosuggestroughlythesubjectIwantedtodiscuss,butnomore. HehadaveryfewwordsofItalian.ForthemostpartwelayinsilenceandI occupiedmyselfwiththoughtsandcigarettes.Ihadalmostdecidedtosleepand waslyingonmybackgazingatthestars,whenthesoft,carefulvoiceasked: 'Sudansignoraqueiss?' Iwasstillwonderingaboutthequestion,whenIfeltafingertapmythigh,andthe voicerepeated,withslighturgency:'YouSudansignora?' IcouldnotthinkhowtotellhimthatIhadneverseenaSudanesesignora. 'Si,'Isaid.'Yes,'tryingtosoundoffhandandacademic,wonderingwhatwas goingonandlookinguptowardsthevoice.Amoonwasjustrising.The merchant'srobesgleamed,theturbanhadbeenreleasedtofallasashawlround theshoulders.Thefacewasquiteinvisible,onlytheeventeethshonewhiteas thedisembodiedvoicespoke. Whatwasthevoicegoingtosuggestnext?Alittleshudderofexcitementran throughmybody,becauseIknew,atthatmoment,thatIcouldnotbesureofmy responses.Thestrange,emptyingeffectofthedesertseemedtohavedrained awayallmyconditioning.IdidnotknowwhetherIwasyoungorold,wiseor foolish,strongorweak,andperhapsIdidnotevenknowwhetherIwasmaleor female.ButIdidknowthatthetaponthethighhadreleasedacurrentofsexual energy,andthisinvisiblefigureclosetomehadbecomemysteriouslypotent. 'Sudansignorqueiss?' Ah,thereitwas.Thevoicewentonsoftly,butwithasharpedgeofinterrogation. 'YouSudansignor?' Thistimethefingertapped,veryprecisely,onmycockwhichwasalready strainingslightlyagainstthedenim. TedSimonwasshocked.Hewantedtodosomething,todemonstrate.Nothing likethathadhappenedtohiminhisconsciouslife.ButIwasalreadysomewhat removedfromhim. Don'tbesuchaprig,Itoldhim.Howoftenhaveyouwondered,secretly,whether youwerecaughtupsomewheredeepinsidebyothercravings,byrepressed desiresandweaknesses.WhataboutthatotherArabonthehighway?What aboutyourproblemswithmaleauthority?Thisisamomentwhenyouhave absolutefreedomofchoice.Moralityhasblownawayintothedesert,youarenot accountabletoanyone.Thisisaprivilegeyouhaveneverallowedyourself before.So,doyouwantasexualadventurewiththisman? 'Sudansignorqueiss?'repeatedthevoice,andthefingertappedagain. 'Si,'Isaid,butonlytoavoidoffence,andIputmyselfoutofrangeofthequesting finger.'Thiswayisnogoodforme,'IsaidinEnglish,relyingonmytonetotell him.

ItseemedtomethatIreallydidnotwantit.Thatoneimportantquestionhad beenfinallyanswered. Therewasnoawkwardness,nobreakeveninthemood.Theepisodeseemed quitenatural.Itwentoneway,couldaseasilyhavegoneanother.Isatupwith mybackagainstapillarandsmokedanothercigarette,lostinthemysteryofit. Thebuscameatmidnight.Itslightandsoundprecededitfaracrossthedesert anditgrewinnoiseandbrilliance,approachingasIimaginedtheendoftheworld wouldcome,oralandingfromMars.Forallthelongwarning,itsarrivalinthe squarewasverysudden.Itstoppedbyus,andfromitsbrightinteriorahordeof peoplejumpedout.Theyseemedtobeallmen,andeachonehadaswordslung acrosshisback.Theyworesleevelessjacketsovershirtsoverrobes,andwithout furtherado,theyfelltothegroundallaboutthebus,andwenttosleep,their swordshuggedtotheirbodies.WhenIsawthatthedriverwasamongthem,Idid likewise. Atfourinthemorningwewereallwoken.Itwasstilldark,andnowitwasalso chilly.Ihadnotanticipatedanightinthedesert.Mythinshirtleftmeverycold. ThemerchantandIsatsidebysideinthebus,thephysicalcontactfeelingrather oddtomenow.UneasilyIponderedagainonthemeaningofourencounter.He musthavefeltmeshiveringslightlywithcold,becauseheopenedhisshawland laiditroundmyshouldersaswellashisown.Thispaternalgestureseemedto offersomecluetowhatIwaslookingfor.Iwasstilluneasy.Itwasonlylong afterwardsthatthedarkandinscrutablefaceofmyownunknownfatherjoined themosaicofimagesthatwhirledaroundthatincident,becauseIhadforgotten thathe,too,mighthavebeentakenforanArab. Thebusjudderedalongintothedawn.Idozedandwokeanddozedagain.The twomenintheseatinfrontofminesatveryupright,withtheirswordsintheir strange,paddleshapedscabbardsstickingupbesidethem.Theirhairhungin greasedringletsoverthecollarsoftheirdungcolouredshirts,andIsmelleda particular,mustybutnotunpleasantodour,whichmighthavebeenanimalfat. AlittlewayoutsideAtbara,thebusmadeastop,andallthepassengersgotoutto stretchtheirlegsandrelievethemselves.Onefamilywasgettingoffforgood. Theyhadsmallbundlesofpotsandpans,andsomepoleswrappedinclothoff theroofofthebus.Astheysettheirbelongingsdowninthedesert,Inoticedthat therewere,afterall,somewomenamongthem,carefullyveiledfromview.They alllookedmiserableandsick,coughingandshiveringinverythinclothing,and theirsmallboy,Irealized,wastheonethathadbeencoughingthroughoutthe journey.Iwasquiteabsorbedintheirplightwhenthebus'shorncalledusaboard again.OnlythendidIrealizethatthemerchanthaddisappeared.Icouldnot understandit.Thereseemedtohavebeennowhereforhimtogooutthere.I lookedinalldirections,buthehadleftmylifeasdiscreetlyasheenteredit. ByelevenIhadmyfivegallonsofpetrolandhadfoundalorrygoingtoKinedra. BymidafternoonIwasbackthere.Thelorrysetmedownaboutakilometre away,andasmallboyonadonkeycarriedthepetrolasIwalkedalongside. Thewarmthandgenerosityoftheschoolmastersrosetoacrescendoonmylast night.Inthemorningtheygavemeagiftofmoneywhichtheyhadcollected betweenthemtohelpmeonmyway.Iknewthatforthemitrepresenteda sizeablesacrificeanditwasdifficulttotakeit,butIfeltthatsuchgiftscouldnot, andshouldnot,berefused.

Ihadbecomeclosetothemanditwasawrenchtoleave.Theywereverysolemn intheirfarewells,givingthepartingitsfullvalueastheydidwitheverythingand notshirkingtheemotion.Agreatcrowdofboyshadgatheredtowaveme goodbye.IwouldhavebeenembarrassedifIhadnotknownthefeelingwas genuine. MyfeelingfortheSudanesewasoneoftotaladmiration.NeverhadImetsuch unmotivatedgenerosity,suchacapacityforimbuingthesimplestlifewithatouch ofsplendour.IhadfeltitstraightawayinAtbara.Intheteahousesthereithad beenrareformetopay,thoughIhadtried.WhenitwastimetosettleIwouldfind thatsomeonehadpaidmybillandleftbeforeme.OnlyafterwardswouldI rememberthequietgreetingfromastrangeronhiswayout.Ortheproprietor wouldrefusemypiastre.Theyweresmallamounts,buttheyaddedgreatvalueto theteaandmadeitrich. ThepreviousdayIhadbeentoldthataDistrictForestOfficerwastakinghis LandrovertoKassalaforbrakefluid,andhadagreedtoleadme ontothebestroute.Whenwemet,Iaskedhim,naturallyenough,wherehis forestwas.HetoldmethatthisdesertIwastravellingthrough,whichIhad thoughtofasbeingasoldasthestarsaboveit,hadbecomeadesertonlyinthe previousthirtyyears.Beforethattherehadbeengrassesandtrees,butthe travellingherdsofcattlehadincreasedandstrippedawayallthenatural vegetation,andmenhadcutdownthetrees.Nowduneswerebeginningtoform, andsoonitwouldbeliketheSahara.ThefenceIhadencounteredtheotherday wastoprotectnewplantationsofgrassesandtreestostabilizethesoilonce more.Hewasnotcheerfulabouttheprospect.'Wearetoofew,'hesaid,'and theyaretoomany.Theduneswillspread.WearelikeCanuteagainstthewaves.' Atmidmorninghewasready,andwesetoff.Fromthestartitwastouchandgo. Hisdriver,overimpressedbythesizeoftheTriumph,setapacethatwas altogethertoodashing.Imanagedtokeephiminsightforseveralmiles,but droppedfarbehind,unabletoflyacrossthedipsandsoftbitsashecould.Itwas whiletryingtocatchhimagainonafairlyeasystretchthatIranintothesametrap ofintersectingrutsthathadcaughtmeonthefirstday.Thistimemy'Oops'was a,gooddeallouder.Thebikecamecrashingdownagain,butmuchharder, rippingoneoftheboxesoffitsmountingsandsmashingtheheadlamp.My shoulderalsotookafairblow. Evenso,alltheimportantthingswerealright.Thejerrywasintact,thebikewas functioning.Myshoulderwouldmanage.Ifoundsomewireandtiedtheboxback onwherethescrewshadtornthroughthefibreglass,takingmytime,determined thatIwouldgetthroughsomehow,andresolvingthatIwouldneveragainrideat anybodyelse'space.Twosuchdisasters,Ithought,mustteachmethelesson. IwasalmostreadytogoagainwhentheLandroverreturned.Theyhadmissed me,eventuallyIexplainedthatitwasfarbetterformetoridealone,iftheywould justdescribetherouteasbesttheycould.Theywantedtotrytoloadthebikeon thecar,butIrefused,andatlasttheydidtheirbesttodrawmeadiagramofwhat tolookfor,andleftwishingmeluck. Thatwasthebeginningofthehardestandmostrewardingphysicalexperienceof myentirejourney. IamtryingtokeeptrackofthenumberoftimesIhavefallen.Theotherday,three times.Todaytwice,thehardfallthatwrenchedmyleftarm,andonesofttumble since.Thearmisalright,butweakened.

Mygreatestproblemiskeepingupconcentration.Ihavetowatchthesurfaceall thetime,withonlyoccasionalglimpsesatthelongerviewsaroundme.Thelight isintense,butluckilyIwasgivensomePolaroidskigogglesinLondon,andthey areexcellentforthedesert.WhenwearingthemIsometimeshavethefeeling thatIamtravellingunderwater.Theygiveeverythingthatcoolclarityyougetina rockpool. Heatdoesnotworryme,eveninthejacketandthesheepskinlinedboots.It seemscrazy,butIdon'tfeelit.ItisnothotbySudanesestandardsofcourse,but itmustbenearlyninetyintheshade.AndIamnotintheshade.Itisverydry heat,easiertosupport.Doestheclothinghelptoconservesweat? GozRegeb,saidMochi,istheplacetospendthenight.Itisstillahundredmiles away,fivehoursatthispresentrate.Iwillnotmakeittoday. Somethingismovingonthehorizon,somethinglive.Istop.FarawayIseecattle crossingthedesert,buttheyseemtobeswimmingthroughasilverlake.A mirage.Afantasticsight. ItisThursday13November.Ihavebeentravellingfiveweeks.Howmanydaysof actualriding?Icounttwentyone.HowfarhaveIridden?Theclockshows5,137 miles.Minus867whenIstarted,leaves4,170milesonthejourney.Average,200 milesaday.Notbad.Well,theaveragewillstartdroppingnow. AfterthreemorehoursIhavecomeanotherfiftymiles.Inanhourortwoitwillbe dark,butthereshouldbeateahutsoon.IthinkitiscalledKhorelFil,whichis supposedtomeanTheCrocodile'sMouth.Spellingisveryoptionalanddistances arevague. Ihavehadonemoresoftfall,buteachjerkonthewheelpullsthemuscleinmy leftshoulderandpreventsitfromhealing.Ifeelnohunger,nothirst.Iam absolutelywrappedupinthisextraordinaryexperience,intheunremittingeffort, inthemarvellousfactthatIamsucceeding,thatitisatallpossible,thatmyworst fearsarenotjustunrealizedbutcontradicted.Thebike,forallitsload,is manageable.Iseemtohave,afterall,thestrengthandstaminatogetby,andmy reservesseemtogrowthemoreIdrawuponthem.Thenatives,armedwith swordsandfiercepride,showmeonlythegreatestrespect. SometimesIwonderwhythewilderpartsoftheworldhavealwaysseemedso frightening,whytheword'primitive'hasalwaysmeant'danger'.Ifitweren'tso, wouldIbefallingovertouristsoutforadayinthedesert?WouldImeetLenand NellfromCranfieldParkRoadsittingunderatreeatKhorelFil,moppingtheir browsandwritingpicturepostcards? No,ImustnotforgetwhyIamabletofunctionhere.Thesefiveweekshave changedmealready.Mystomachhasshrunkdrastically,mybloodhaschanged, mysweatglandsareadaptedtoadifferentregime,mypalatehasalteredandmy muscleshavecertainlyhardened,tospeakonlyofphysicalchanges. IhavealsohadtimetolearnaconfidenceIneverknewbefore,andsurelymy ownconfidenceinthefaceofstrangersmust,inturn,increasetheirconfidencein me.ThenthereisalsothefactthatIamproudofwhatIamdoing.Thereisno denyingit.Itrytobemodest,tosayanyonecoulddoit.Buttheydon't,andIfeelI havemanagedtopulloffsomethingspecial.Ithelpsmetoknowthat,asthoughI werepluggedintoakindofpowerIdidnotknowIhad. Whydoesn'teverybodydoit?Idon'tthinkit'sonlytimidity.Iwasasafraidas anyonewouldbe.Theyhavecareers,ofcourse,andmortgages.Theysaythey woulddoit'ifitweren'tforthekids'.Iusedtolaughatthat,butwhyshouldI?It's

perfectlylegitimate.Muchastheyenvyme,theyaresimplytooabsorbedintheir livestowanttoleavethembehind.Theyarefascinated,asIpassby,tohear aboutmyplansandmystories,butintheendtheyarehappyenoughtoletmedo itforthem.LenandNellcanmoptheirbrowsunderthepyramidsforaweekand leavethestomachshrinkingtome. Whyyou? Whywereyouchosentoridethroughthedesertwhileothermenaregoinghome fromtheoffice? Chosen?IthoughtIchosemyself.WereOdysseusandJason,Columbusand Magellanchosen? Thatisaveryexaltedcompanyyouhavesummonedupthere.Whathaveyou gotincommonwithOdysseus,forGod'ssake? Well,we'realljustactingoutotherpeople'sfantasies,aren'twe.Maybewe'renot muchgoodforanythingelse. LookingbackonwhathasalreadyhappenedIcanseethatitwouldhavethe makingsofalegend.Everyencounterseemssosignificant,eachonetestingme andpreparingmeforthenext.ZanfinitheViaTorremuzzo,theSSPascoli KabariaSfaxCyrenaicaSalloumMersaMatruhAlexandriaTheGreatBirdof AtbaraandSidon.AndwhydidtheTwirlingTurkontheferrypointhisfingerat me? InmychildhoodIwasdevotedtostoriesofmenwhoovercameterribleobstacles towinthehandoftheprincessdogswitheyeslikesaucers,dogswitheyesthe sizeofdinnerplates,dogswitheyesasbigascartwheels.Theyalwayscamein threes.Ididnotknowthenthattheyweretidiedupversionsofancientmythology. Inmychildhood,nobodytalkedaboutmythsandlegends.Theywerejuststories. Thejobofexplaininglifewaslefttoscience,butscienceeventuallyfailedthetest. Sodidpolitics,ofcourse.Andlove.Andproperty.Andjournalismjustwenton beggingthequestion. SohereIam,stilllookingforanexplanation,actingoutthosechildhoodstories which,perhaps,werealwaysthemostsatisfyingafterallmakingmyselfthehero ofmyownmyth? Thesearenotsomuchsequentialthoughtsasfeelingsinterspersedwith memories,dancinginmybrainasthebikerollscomfortablyoveraneasier stretch.Thesymbolsgroupthemselvesinmymind.TheYomKippurWar,the TurkandtheBirdloomlargeasomens.Whatdotheyportend? Mythoughtsareinterruptedbythesightofalorryaheadofme.Itisstationary. Therearepeoplegroupedroundit.Tracksstarttosweepinacrossmypathfrom theopendesert,andfollowingthemroundIseetheyconvergeneartheriver,by agroupoftreesandahut.KhorelFil,thehalfwaymark. NothingevertastedmoredeliciousthantheteaIholdinmyhand. 'Takethelorry,'theyaresaying.'Youcannotgothrough.Therearebigdunes. TakethelorrytoGozRegeb.Itisnotfar.' Iresist,buttheirconcernformeissogenuinethatIfeelexcusedbyit.Fiftymiles inthetruck,that'snottoomuch. TherearefourBescharyinhereattheteahousewithme,exoticfigures, splendidlyrobedandarmed,theirhairteasedoutandgluedintostrands.Irealize withastartthatthesemustbethe'Fuzziewuzzies'whofoughtsofanatically againstGordonatKhartoum.Thecontactbetweenusisinstantaneousand overwhelming.Thereisaspiritinthistea,amagicsolventtowashawayour

differences.ThisisanotherreasonwhyIamheretoexperience(nothingless) thebrotherhoodofman.ImaginemeetingthesemeninaLondonpuboran Americandiner.Impossible.Theycouldneverbetherewhattheyarehere.They wouldbemadesmallbythecomplexities,theparaphernaliathatwehaveadded toourlives,justasweare,thoughwehavelearnedtopretendotherwise.Ihadto comeheretorealizethefullstatureofmanhereoutsideagrasshut,onarough woodenbench,withnonoise,nocrowds,noappointments,noaxetogrind,no secrettoconceal,allthespaceandtimeintheworld,andmyheartastranslucent astheglassofteainmyhand.Thesenseofaffinitywiththesemenissostrong thatIwouldteardowneverybuildingintheWestifIthoughtitwouldbringus togetherlikethis.IunderstandwhytheArabideaseemssoperverse,so fanatical,untrustworthyandselfdestructivetotheWesternmind.Itmustbe becausetheArabputsanultimatevalueonsomethingwenolongerevenknow exists. Integrity,initsrealsenseofbeingatonewithoneselfandone'sGod,whoever andwhereverthatGodmaybe.Withoutithefeelscrippled. WeEuropeanssoldourintegritymanyyearsagoforprogress,andwehave debasedthewordtomeanmerelysomeonewhoobeystherules.Achasmof misunderstandingyawnsbetweenus.AtthismomentIknowonwhichsideIwant tostand. Thelorryisbeingloadedbymembersofanothertribe,theRaschaid.Igather theyoriginateinIraq,areknownasnomadiccamelherders,andaresupposedto berich.Thisisalargefamilymovinghousebytruckratherthancamel.They havetheirtentwrappedupingreatbundlesofhidethepolestiedtogether enormousheavyglassbottlesslunginropenetstherestwrappedincarpets. Theirwomenarewiththem,thefirstwomenIhavebeenclosetosinceEgypt. Theywearfinelywovensilverveilsovertheirfaces,justbeloweyelevel.For themitisthemouthwhichmustnot,inanycircumstances,beseenbyastrange man.Theirrobeshangloose,theirbreastsarevisiblefromtimetotime,itdoes notbotherthem.Itdoesbotherme,however,andIhavetoguardmyexpression carefully.Iamhelpedinthisbytheplayfulwayinwhichtheheadofthefamily toyswithhisrifle,ashesitsontopofthetruckandsupervisestheloading. Fourmenloadthebikewithoutdifficulty.Ipayasmallsum,andwe'reoff.Isit jammedupagainstthemembersofthefamily,tryingtoignorethesumptuous femininityjigglingsoclosetome. Therereallyaredunes.Thelorryhastoputdownmetaltrackstocrossthem.I wouldnothavehadachancehere,butImighthavemadeitthroughthetrees. AllIcanseeofGozRegeb,atnight,isthebigteahousewithmanyrooms.There isfoodtoo,meatandbeansandkissera.Therearewoodenbedframesstrung withjutetosleepon.Allaroundmemenfalltotheirkneesinprayer,armsrising andfalling,voiceschanting: 'AllahHarkborough,AllahHarkborough',atleastthat'swhatitsoundslike.Then againthesilence,thestars,andtheearlymorningchill,butthistimeIam prepared. ApproachingKassalaatlast,Icanscarcelybelievetheskylinethatrisesbefore me.Arangeofhighmountainswithsmoothlyroundedtopslikemoundsofice creamhalflicked.IfeelasthoughIamapproachinganenchantedland,andmore andmoreoftenIfeelthatIamactingoutsomefairytaleorlegend.AllIlackisa clearideaofmypurpose.Maybethereaderknows.

InKassalaIseekouttheForestOfficer,hopingtospendmoretimewithhim.The driveroftheLandroveristhefirsttoseemecoming.Hisbroadfaceradiates happinessatseeingme. YouarearealmanhesaysandIalmostchokewiththepleasurethatgivesme. Itwasworthitalljusttohearthat. FromKassalatherearetwowaystogo.Theusualroute,theoneIplannedto take,followsabighighwaythroughEritreatoAsmara.AccordingtotheEthiopian Consultheroadisuntroubledbyrebelsatpresent.Ifindtheprospectrather tame.Arealmanhashisresponsibilities.Idecideonanotherroute,continuing souththroughtheSudanfortwohundredandfortymilesandthencrossinginto EthiopiaatMetema. Onthemaptheroadisgradedonebetterthannothingasfarastheborder.After thatitrevertstothesameconditionastheoneIhavejusttravelled,butIknow nowthatthiscanonlybethevaguestindication.AllIamfairlysureofisthatthere isnomoreopendesert. ThefirststretchasfarasKhashmelGirbarunsalongsidetherailwayline.Infact itispartofthebedofthetrack,andmadeofdriedmud,bakedandcrackedinthe sun.Attimesitisraisedabovethesurroundingbrush,atothersnot,anditvaries agreatdealinwidth.Therearesomeshallowrutswhichreducespeed drastically,butworsestill,mostofthewayis'.mildlycorrugated. Theridingisnotonlyasdifficultasitwasinthedesert,itisalsomore uncomfortableandfrustrating,asthebikerattlesfuriouslyoverthebumps.The fiftythreemilestakemethreehoursofhardwork.Thereareteahousesonthe way.Ihavemadeitarulealwaystostop.AtKhashmelGirbaIamrewardedbya teahousewithwonderfulfreshfishfromthereservoirthere.Againthe atmosphereisoneofallembracingintimacy.Ihaveonlytositdowninthese placesnow,tofeelthatIamamongoldfriends. TheroadtoGedaref? 'Queiss,'theysay,'Muchbetter.' Ireservemyjudgementthistime,butdrawstrengthfromtheirencouragement. TheroadtoGedarefisworse.Muchworse.WorsethananythingIimagined.At times,infact,Ibelieveitisimpossible,andconsidergivingup.Thecorrugations aremonstrous.Sixinchridges,twofeetapart,allthewaywithmonotonous, shatteringregularity.Everythingonthebikethatcanmovedoesso.Everybone ineverysocketofmybodyrattles.Noteventhemostingeniousfairground proprietorcoulddeviseamoreuncomfortableride.Ifeelcertainthatitmustbreak thebike.Itryridingveryslowly,anditisworsethanever.Onlyatfiftymilesan hourdoesthebikebegintoflyovertheridges,levellingoutthevibrationalittle, butitis terriblyrisky.Betweentheridgesismuchloosesand.Hereandtherearesudden hazards.Thechancesoffallingaregreat,andIamafraidofseriousdamageto thebike.YetIfeelImustfly,becauseIdon'tthinkthemachinewillsurviveeighty milesofthisotherwise.Itishairraising,andthenitbecomesimpossibleagain. Theroadswingstothewestandthesunburnsoutmyvision.IrealizeImuststop andmakeacamp,becauseIshallneverarriveatGedareftoday,anyhow. BetweensomebushesIsetupthemosquitonet,cooksomericeandtea,smoke acigarette,andsleep.Ihavebeengoingfromdawntosunset,afulldayoftotal endeavour,andIhavecomejustunderahundredmiles.

Somethingwakesmefrommysleep.Hugeshapesloomaroundthenetinthe darkness,threateningtosquashme.Iampetrified.Aherdofcamelsisbeing driventhroughthenightacrossmycampsite.Thecamelsobviouslysensemy presencethough,becausetheyavoidmedaintily.AfteraminuteIlosemyfear andsimplygazeupattheminwonder.Theyarereallylikeshipsinthenight. Evenso,IthinkIwaslucky. Inthemorning,refreshed,Ilosepatiencewiththecorrugationsandflyoverthem regardless.IfindthatIcancontrolthebikebetterthanIhadthought.Istillfearfor theeffectonthebike,butIamhopefulthatafterGedarefthingsmayimprove. Thesecorrugationsaretheresultoftraffic.BeyondGedaref,accordingtothe map,theroadislessimportant.Ievenhope,nostalgically,thatitmaybeas pleasantasthedeserttrack.Atleast,inthedesert,Iwasabletothink.Here everypartofmeispinnedtotheroadandsurvival. IgettoGedarefintwoheartstoppinghours,andfindanotherplacetoeatfish, butthisisadifferentkindoftownfromAtbaraorKassala,busierandmore crowded,andthecrowdiscuriousandpressing.Theyareallroundme,peering atme,andIamgladtogetawayontheroadtoDoka.UntilIseewhattheroadis like.Myalarmtakesmetothevergeofdespair,andthenturnstolaughter.Itis tooridiculous. Thewashboardcorrugationscontinue,asbefore,butnotconsistently.The groundhereisobviouslysofterandheavyvehicleshavebeengoingthroughin therain.Theroadissaucershaped,thatis,ithasasteepreversecamber.Atthe bottomofthesauceraredeepslots,usuallytwosidebyside.Theyareonlya coupleoffeetapart,andmusthavebeenmadebylorriestravellingwithone wheelintheroadandanotheronthebank.Thespacebetweentheslotsisnot flat,butrisestoacrown,andalsonarrowsfromtimetotimeordisappears altogetherasthetwoslotsmergeintoone.Itisnotpossibletoridebetweenthe slotswithout,soon,fallingintoone.Theslotsarefifteeninchesdeepandthe samewidth.Theymighthavebeentailoredtofitthebike.Thepipesjustfitinside them,thesidepanniersjustclearthetopsofthem.Iamforcedtorideintheslots, butIseeagreatdangerofbreakingmylegsagainstthesideifthebikeshould lurchonewayoranother,andformuchofthewayIhavetokeepmylegsraised intheair. Wheretheslotsareshallowerorbroaderthegroundiscorrugatedorcovered withloosesand.ForseveralhoursIamunabletoaveragemorethantenmilesan hour.Myfeelingshavechangednow,though.IseethisasapartofwhatImust do,andIamresignedtothefactthateachdaythehazardswillmultiplyuntilI meetthedogwitheyeslikecartwheels.Myworriesarenowallforthemotorcycle. WithonesuspectpistonIamworriedaboutoverheating.ThreetimesIfallonce whenridingbetweentheslotsthebikefallsintoagrooveandisalmostupside down.EachtimeIstopandrelax,andletthebikecooloff.I'mtryingnottoletthe ridingoverwhelmmesothatIforgetwhereIamandwhatI'mdoing. Thesoilhereispitchblack,andflat,butfaraheadIseeitrisingsteadilytowards theEthiopianplateau.Oneithersideofmearefieldsofcottonandmillet,andthe cottonisjustburstingoutofitspodsinlittlepuffsofwhite.Notasoulanywhere, notavehicleorananimaloraperson.Whatdoesitmatter?Ihavewater,rice, teaandsugar,andsalt.IcantakeaslongasIlike,stopwhereandwhenIlike. So,ploddingalong,horsebackfashion,IarriveinDokajustpastfour.Thepolice havealargeopenspacewithafenceroundit.Idon'tneedtheirfence,buttheir

hospitalityiswelcomeandtheysharetheirfoodwithme.Newday,new problems.Theroadisrisingnow,inshortsteepswoops.Whereitdoestheroad isstony,bigloosestonesrippedoutoftherockandflungloose.Something enormoushasbeentravellingthisroad.Ithasalsogroundtherockintoafine powder,apinktalclikefacepowderwhichreflectsthesunandkillsallcontours.I cannotseetherocksbeforeIhitthem,andsinceclimbingnecessitatessome speedandmomentum,Ifindmyselfbouncingfromonesideofthetracktothe other,hopingtofindasafelinethrough.TwicemoreIfall,spreadeagledacross thetrack,andhereitisworsebecausetherockscatchonthepanniers,ripping themoff,anddentingthepipes.OnceIamtrappedwithmyfootundertherear wheel.Thestraponthebootiscaughtontheaxle,andIcan'tmove.AsIlie there,musteringstrength,Iremembertheboyinthestoresellingmethatboot andtellingmethatthestrapwas'forwhenyoucomeoff. Whydon'tthetyresteartoshredsunderallthispunishment.Whynopunctures?I thinkapuncturemightfinishme,I'msobeat.IsayprayersofgratitudetoAvon whomadethem.Whydoesn'ttheTriumphjustdie?Ithasnoneedtogoon, unlikeme.Itprotestsandchatters.Ononesteepclimbitevenfainted,butaftera restitwenttoworkagain.Ihatetothinkwhathavocisbeingwroughtinsidethose cylinders.Wehavesuchalongwaytogo. Themorningpassesineffortandshortstops.Thecountrysideismorepleasing asitrisesamongtrees.ThemountainkingdomofEthiopiamust benearnow.TheSudanesesideoftheborderiscalledGalabat.Iseesomemen inuniformoutsideabuildingandrideuptothem.Theyaresoldiersandaskmeto eatwiththem.Wesquatonthegroundoutsidetheirgarrisoninfrontofalarge bowl,scoopingupthefoodwithhandfulsofkissera.Alltheusualpolitenesses andcourtesiesareoffered,thesymbolsofmutualrespect.SoonIshallleave Arabiabehind,andIsuspectalreadyhowmuchIshallyearnforit,andtheSudan inparticular. Adeepdrygulchdividesthetwocountries.TheSudanesecustomsofficialis correctandhelpful,despitealostdocument.Hisofficeistidyandefficient,the compoundneatandclean.Heisshavenandwearsafreshlylaunderedgalabeia. ThesearethethingsIrememberasIridedownthegulchanduptheotherside intoMetema. Thedifferencesareshocking.Hereisacrowdedshantytown,slovenlyunshaven soldiers,absenteeofficials,dirt,dilapidationandalreadyawhiffofcorruption.The armychecksmeoutforexplosives.Itisthreeintheafternoonbutcustoms,they say,won'tbebackuntilnextmorning.Irideuptheroadtofindahotel.Everyhut isahotel,orpretendstobeonapaintedsigninblueormagenta.Thebesthotel intownisasquareroomunderatinroof,withroughdaubedwallsandanearth floor,awoodenbar,shelvesofdrinkand,strangetoseeonanearthfloor,some upholsteredchairsandasofaroundatable.Ihadforgottenaboutupholstery. Then,thebiggestshockofall.Awoman,quiteaprettywoman,inaplaincotton frockwithanemancipatednecklineandahemjustbelowthekneeswalksacross tome,lookingmeintheeyes,andshakesmyhand.Itisasexplosiveasakiss.I hadforgottenaboutwomentoo. Shegivesmeasmallcubicleattheback.Theculturechangeistoogreatforme torisksleepingoutsidehere.Metemahasatruefrontiertownfeeltoit,andI smelllawlessnessandahintofviolence.

IlearnedsomethingaboutEthiopiatravellingthroughtheSudan.Theprostitutes inAtbaracamefromAsmara,anddidalucrativebusiness.Occasionallythe policeroundedthemupandshippedthemovertheborderbytruck,butthestory wentthatthegirlswouldhavebribedtheirwaybackandbeeninbusinessbefore thepoliceevenhadtimetogethome. WherethewomenofIslamaresoconcealedandrepressedastoformvirtually anundergroundsociety,thewomenofthismostancientChristiankingdomare shamelesslyexposed,unprotectedandexploitedattheoppositeextreme.Both thewomeninthishotelareprostitutes,andhaveseveralchildren.Theykeep theirmoneyinabigironchestunderoneofthebeds.Eventhesmallestsumsare immediatelyputawaythere,andalltheiractionsindicatethattheymustwatch outforthemselvesconstantly.Theysaytheyhavesavedtobuythisplace,thatit mustkeepthemintheirolderage.Inthemorningtheymakeapoignantsight, nursingtheirillegitimatebabiesandtheirtightlyrolledwadsofEthiopiandollars.I admireandsympathizewiththem. ThereismuchmorecolourherethanintheSudan.Literally.Acamelpasseswith twomensittingonit,backtobackandlaughingoutloud.Oneiswearingavivid carminecloak.Anothercamelhasbirdssittingalloverit,feedingoffitscoat.Even thebirdshavebrightredbills. Attheborderposttheysay'Nocustomsuntiltheafternoon.'Obviouslyitisnot possibletobelievethem,noramIgoingtomakeanoffer,butImusthavemy customscarnetstamped.Apolicemanwhoseemstoknowwhatheistalking abouttellsmeIcanhaveitdoneinGondar.Idecidetochanceit.Thetravellingis sohardthatImustkeepmoving.Ineedthemomentumtobalancethehardship. Gondaristhetarget,thepointwhereIrejointhemainhighwaysystem.Icannot helpthinkingofitasGondor,thegloomymountainfortresstowardswhich Tolkien'shero,Frodo,hadtocarrytheRingofPower.Allmythoughtsarestill dominatedbythephysicalbatteringthatIandthemachinearetakingonthis road.BeforeleavingtodayIhavetocleanupaterriblemessinoneoftheboxes. Thevibrationhasloosenedthelidofthecodliveroilandglucosepot.Ithasalso causedthealuminiumfilmcanisterstogrindeachotherintoapowder.Everything intheboxisnowsmearedwithapasteofcodliveroilandaluminium,themost bizarreexampleyetofwhatvibrationcandoonabike.Happilythecameraswere nolongerinthere,andnothingisruined. ThefourthdayoftheridefromKassalabegins.Theroadhereislikeacarttrack onamountainside,notbadonthelevelsections,buttreacherousontheinclines withthatsameblindingdustobscuringlooserock.Gondarisalmostfivethousand feetupfromhere,butthereisaseriesoflowerrangestocross,andtheroadis climbingorfallingalmostconstantly.Thismuch,however,Ibecameaccustomed toyesterday.WhatnewmonstermustIwrestlewithtoday? 'Hereitcomes.Ariver.Istoptolookatit,andmyheartsinkstomyboots.How canIevergetacrossit?Thereisafordaboutthirtyfeetwide.Thewaterisnottoo deep,afootortwoatmost,thoughfastrunning,buttheriverbedlooks impossibleontwowheels.Itislitteredwithblackbouldersthesizeoffootballs. HowcanIpossiblyexpectthebiketostayupright,evenifthetyrescangripthe stonewhichlooksslippery. Iamveryfrightenedofwhatwillhappen,almostcertainofdisaster.Onlythe thoughtofthosethousandsofmilesbehindmeforcesmetoconfrontthe problem.Ihaveneverfordedariverbefore.ForfiveortenminutesIwalkupand

down,lookingforabetterway,tryingtostiflethepanicinmybreastandfind somecalmandresolution.Itcomes.Thefearissomehowanaesthetized.Iknow thatifIamgoingtodoit,itmustbenow. 'Thereisafirstandlasttimeforeverything,'Itellmyself,andlaunchintoit,trying toguesstherightspeed.Thereisnothingformetodobutholdontightandpray. I'mgoingtoofasttobeabletochangedirectionorchooseapath.Thebikeleaps aboutlikeamadthing.Tomycompleteastonishment,Ifindmyselfridingupthe otherside.Istop,quiveringwithrelief.Allthestrengthhasleftmeandmylegwill hardlyholdupthebikewhileIfiddlewiththestand. Whatawonderfulplacethisworldis.ItreallydoeslookasthoughIammeantto getthrough. Mybootsarefullofwater,andIgobacktothestreamandwashmyfeet,wring outmysocksandtakeadrink.ThefordlooksmoremanageablenowthatI've crossedit,buttherewillbeothers.Forsure. Therearefourmorethatday,andthelastoneisthemostmonstrousofall.The bikestallsjustbeforetheotherside,butIamabletokeepituprightinthewater. Thisfordisdoublyunliketheothersthough,becauseheretherearepeople. Somemencometohelpmedragthebikeoutoftheriver.Theyseemvery friendly,andIdiscovertheyarebuildingabridgehereandhaveacamp.Theytell metostaythenightwiththem. Theyaredifferentfromothermen,theseroadbuilders.Somekindofespritde corpsanimatesthem,asthoughtheroadsandbridgestheymakeareonlythe physicalsymbolsofadesiretohelptheworldalong.Ihaveobserveditmany timesbefore,inothercountries. ThatnightIlieoutunderthestarsagain.ThePleiadesaretherewinkingatme.I amnolongeronmywayfromoneplacetoanother,Ihavechangedlives.Mylife nowisasblackandwhiteasnightanddayalifeoffiercestruggleunderthesun, andpeacefulreflectionunderthenightsky.IfeelasthoughIamfloatingonaraft, far,farawayfromanyworldIeverknew. Themenaregatheredroundafire,talking.ThelanguageisAmharic,andquite impenetrablebyme,butIcanhearwhentheyarejustmakingconversationand whentheyaretellingstories,becausetheyhavetwovoices.Commentsaremade innormalspeech,butforstoriestheyspeakinahigherregister,inavoicethat tripsandburblesalongatafastrate,fullofmimicryandgigglinglaughter.Ifeel myraftfloatingrightbacktothebeginningoftime. ThefifthdayoutofKassala,andtheslopesareimmediatelysteeperandlonger. Itisclearthatthebikecanbarelycopewiththecombinationofload,workand heat.Theroadisscarredandrippedtorubble.Itislikefollowingthetrackof somestumblingmonsterofdestruction.Halfwayupaparticularlyhardclimb,I losemomentumandthebikesimplydiesonme.Idon'tknowwhat'shappened, whattodo.Iwaitawhileandkickitover.Itstartsandrevsupfineinneutral,but whenIengagetheclutchitdiesonmeagain.Iamquitenearthetopofthehill, andIunloadtheheaviestboxesandcarrythemupmyself.ThenIridethebike up,andloadagain.Theplugsandtimingareokay.WhatelsecanIdobutcross myfingers,andtrytokeepupmomentum? AnotherlongsteepclimbandItakeitasfastasIcan.WhenIgettothetop, bouncinglikeamadthingalltheway,IfindthatIhavelostoneofmyboxesat thebottom.Itiswayoutofsight.AsIwalkdown,Ihearabigengineapproaching. Furtherdownisthemonsterthatmakesthisroadwhatitis.AtwentytonFiat

truck,withtengears,isgrindinguphillinfirst.Itfillseveryinchofthetrackonits sixteenhugetyres.Thedriverpointstohislefthandside,thenstops.Hehasthe boxwithhim,unopened,andIclimbinbesidehimandridebacktothetop,very gratefulforhishonesty. Ittakesawhiletofixthebox,usinglargishpiecesofflattenedtinasananchor wherethefibreglasshasbeentornaway.Theroadcontinuesasbefore.Ifall again,twicewithinaminuteortwo.Theweakarmiswrenchedagaineverytime thestonessnatchatthewheelandtrytotearthehandlebarsfrommygrip.The climbingisintenselydifficult.Upanddownandfurtherupanddownagainand stillfurtherup,alwaysanewmountainaheadastheroadrisesthroughthe erodededgesofahighandmassiveplateau.Atonefall,someboysseemepick myselfupfromthedust,andrushaway,onlytoreappearwithakettlefullofcold mountainwaterformetodrink.Anothertime,twoboysinragswithgourdstiedat theirwaistsleavetheircattletowatchme.Onecarriesafluteandhandsittome, butmybrainistooaddledbyheatandefforttoknowwhathewants.Ihandit backandheplaysthemusicalequivalentofamountaintorrent.Hisdexterityis astounding.Hepoursoutnoteswiththespeedandconfidenceofanabsolute virtuoso,creatingnotasinglestreamofmelodybutacascadeofsound,which seemstobeinseveralkeysandregisterssimultaneously.Hebathesmeinhis musicandIknow,asIlisten,thatIwillneverhearanythinglikethisagain.When hefinishesItrytoshowmygratitude.Wehavenotonewordincommon,and foolishlyIfeelitisimpossibletorepaysuchagiftwithmoney.AfterwardsIam ashamedtohavemadehimthevictimofmyidealism.Adollarwouldhavesuited himbetterthanmyloftysentiment,nodoubt. Still,hismusicisthesignthatthisordealisalmostended.Atoweringfingerof rockappears,standingaloneontherightoftheroad.ThenIbreastthefinal escarpmentandrunfreeontheplateauatlast. Chelgaisthelastvillage,aboutfiftymilesfromthehighway,amountainvillage, housesandpeoplehuddledmorecloselytogether,faceslinedandangular, showingcunningandsuspicion.Thereisa'hotel'thatservesmeals.Thefoodis 'injeraandwat'',avariationontheSudanesemeal.Thebreadisdifferent.It comeslikeapancake,orratheranenormoussoftmuffin,coveringthewholeofa circulartintray.Underitisasmallbowlofchoppedmuttoninspicedsauce. GatheredroundatableatthefarendoftheroomisagroupofmeninWestern businesssuitsofsoliddarkworsted.Theirskinisblack,buttheirfeaturesare prominentandEuropean.Severalofthemweardarkglasses.Bytheirprosperity, thewaythehotelownertreatsthem,bytheirassumptionofnonchalanceandthe carelessglancestheycastovermeandothers,Iknowtheyaresomekindof powerelite. Afteralittlewhilethehotelownerasksmeformypassport.Hehandsit obsequiouslytooneofthemenwhostudiesitlightly,makesalaughingremarkto theothersandpassesitback.Thewordthatspringstomindis'mafia'.Whenthey haveleft,abeardedmantomyrightstartstospeak. 'Thatmanisapolicegeneral,'hesaysingoodEnglish.Thavetokeepsilence whentheyarenear,butyouwillfindthattherearemanylikemewhoarereadyto throwthemout.EthiopiaislikeFrancebeforetherevolution.' Heisateacher,andasksmetomakecontactwithstudentsinAddisifIwantto findthetruth.

'Butlookoutforbadpeopleontheroad,whowilltrytostopyou.Ifyoujokewith themtheywillstealfromyou.Youmustkeepagoodface.Anditisnotgoodto walkroundGondaralone. 'Butafterallyourtravellingyouwillhaveyourowntrick.' Iamgladhesaysthat.Iknowitisnogoodtogoaroundexpectingtrouble.Better tohopethat,inthelastresort,youhavefound'yourowntrick'. Thelastfiftymilesofroadareshownonthemapas'improved'.Theimprovement consistsofseveralinchesofloosestonespreadoverthesurface.Ifinditdeadly, particularlyonbends.Thereisonemoreford,andonemorefall.IfeelnowthatI havebeentreatedtoeveryvarietyofbadsurfacethatIcouldeverexpectto meet.Allthatawaitsmenowistoridethesamesurfacesinthewet,butthat privilegeisdeferredtoanothertimeandanothercontinent. AtAzezoIrideoutontothehighwayandforthelasteightmilesIamonsmooth tarmac.Itislikeaflyingdream.Icannotfeelmywheelstouchtheground,andI enterGondarfloatingthroughtheair.Ihaveriddenfourhundredandfiftymiles fromAtbarainsevenunimaginabledays,andinmanydifferentwaysIfeelIhave arrived. Ethiopiameanstrouble.OnthehighwaytoAddisAbabaIsenseitmostofthe time.Perhaps,unknowingly,Ievensymbolizeit.ThemenIpass,stubborn lookingmenwithhard,impassivefaces,sometimesraisetheirsticksasthough tornbetweentheimpulsestosaluteandtolashout.Smallboys,almostnaked, crouchandraisetheirfistsin defiance.Sometimestheythrowstonesunderthecondoningeyesofadults,andI feelsuretheyareactingouttheirparents'wishes. Itseemsnaturalthatsomethingasrareandstrangeasahelmetedfigureona motorcycleapproachingatspeedshouldarousewhateverarethedominant emotions.HereIwouldhavetosaythatthefirstemotionstospringtothesurface arefearandresentment.InWolloprovince,threehundredmilesfrommyroute, thousandsaresaidtobestarvingtodeath,butIcanseenosignofit.The livestocklooksfatandgraingrowseverywhere,butthecountryisseethingwith rebellionandtheEmperor'slong,harshandcorruptreignmustbenearlyatan end. InasmallvillagecalledEmmanueljustnorthoftheBlueNileGorge,afteranother difficultdayridingthroughheapsofloosestones,Iamforcedtostopbyfailing light.Smallboysgatherlikeflies,asusual,andabiggerboywhohaslearned someEnglish,appointshimselfmyguideandprotector.Theirconcertedefforts sweepmeandthebikeoverthehighthresholdofadoorwayinawooden stockade.Withinthestockadeisapinklypaintedhutlabelled'hotel',andatlastI amleaningbackinachairwithmyboots,greyfrompowderedgranite,stretched outinfrontofmeinacomicpostureofrelief. Atthebaronmyright,onahighstoolwithherbarefeetdangling,sitsthe proprietressinapinkdirndldressandheadscarf,choppingupmuttoninadour mood.Oppositeme,sidebysideinidenticalpositions,sitfournearlyidentical menstaringstraightahead,stavesclaspedwithbothhandsandplantedbetween theirfeet,elbowsrestingonknees,polishedkneesspreadaparttotouchthe neighbours'.Intheirshinyblackwoodennesstheymighthavebeencarvedfroma singlehugeebonylog.

Ihavenotyetgotthetasteforhomebrewedcornbeerandamdrinkingawarm andexpensivebottleofItalianbeer,waitingforameal,whentheteacherscome infromthestreet.Therearethreeofthem.Theboysmusthavetoldthemabout me,becausetheycomeinnoisywithgoodcheerandobviouslydeterminedto entertainmeandhaveagoodtime.Theyareanoddlyassortedtrio.Oneisatall handsomeArab.Oneisashort,black,wrinkledandcannymountainman.The thirdistrueAfrican,withasmoothovalheadbalancedonhisneckatfortyfive degrees.TheAfricanisinabeigegabardinesuitandtheothersareintraditional Ethiopiandressandshawlsedgedwithacolouredstripe. TheAfricanisalreadydrunk.Hesqueezesupbesidemewavinghisarmsaround meandpushinghisfaceclosetomine.Hiseyelidsarepaperyandtautandthe samecolourashissuit,hismouthsplutterssalivaandhisbreathisbad.Itishard tolikehim. 'WhatareyouropinionsaboutSouthAfrica?'heshouts.'Whatcanyoutellme aboutthiscountry?Iamdefinitelyshortofopinionsonthissubject.Whatisyour information?'andsoon.Heissoabsorbedinhisquestioningandposturingthat thereisnoneedformetoreply,mercifully,sinceIhavenothingtosay. Theothersaremorerestrained,andshowwillingnesstobelightheartedand amusing,butinspiteofthemselvestheirquestioningbecomeshostileand suspiciousandturnstointerrogation,withdemandsforproofsandevidence. 'Wheredoyoucomefrom?' 'Wheredoyoulive?' 'Butthatisimpossible.YouareBritish.HowcanyouliveinFrance?''Howoldare you?' Tcannotbelievethat.Showmeyourpassport.Iwillnotbelieveunlessyoushow meinblackandwhite.' 'Whatisthis?BorninGermany?Howdoyouexplainthis?' 'Whatisinthatwallet?Showme.Iwillnotbelieveyouarenotkeepingagunin there.Anotebook?Whatkindofnotes?Letmeseewhatyouarewritingdown aboutus?' Irefuse.NotbecauseofwhatIhavewritten,butbecause,bynow,Iamafraidof losingitunderafloodofbeerorvomit.Thescenehasafeverishsignificancethat isheightenedbytheeffortIhavetomakeagainstmyownwearinessandto'keep agoodface'.Thefourpeasantsstaringimpassively,thesourwomanorderingher skivvyabout,andthesethreetipsyinterrogators,theirgoodintentionshelpless againstthetideofangerandfrustrationthatwellsupinsidethem,allthatseemsa quiteexcellentmodelofEthiopiaasIsenseitfromtheroad. Foodcomes,andwithitIhopeforsomerelief.Ihavetostruggletostoptoomuch oftheAfrican'sspitfromfallingonmyplate,butmostofitisdribblingoverhis foodashescoopsupthemuttonwithfistfulsofinjeraandstuffsitintohismouth. ThenIstartbackinhorrorasIseehisdrippinghandheadstraightformyown mouth.Hetriesdesperatelyhardtoreachmewithit,butIamduckingand weavinglikeMuhammedAli,andhehastogiveup. Theothertwoareseverelyamused. 'Itisacustomofhospitalityinourcountrythatyoumayshowyourlovebyplacing yourfoodinthemouthofyourguest.' That,Ithoughtdisgustedly,sumsitup.Whereelsecouldagestureoffriendship becomearepulsiveactofaggression.InEthiopia,foronce,Iallowedmyselfthe luxuryofageneralization.Twowordsdescribedthemallforme.

Fuckedup! InthesouthofEthiopia,itisbetter.Theroadsareterribleagain,butthepeople aresofterandnotsoparanoid.Willitalwaysbelikethat,betterawayfromthe highways? ThelaststretchtotheborderofKenyaispartlyariverbed,andIhaveseensome spectaculartermitemounds,inredandwhite.Thewhiteones,dottedallabout thelandscape,arelikeanoutdoorexhibitionofHenryMoorestatues.InevitablyI thinkofLot'sWifeandthepillarsofsalt. TheEthiopianmoodmaybemean,butthehighlandscapehasbeenmagnificent. NowIamgoingdownagain,intotheAfricanRiftValley,andthedesertprovinces ofKenyaandSomalia.Moyaleisthebordertown.ItisNewYear'sDay,andIam ontheEthiopianside,butaroadengineerisinwiththeKenyagovernmentbrass andwegetacrossforacelebrationontheotherside.Differentworld.Almostan Englishpub,drinkingTuskerAleandStout,chattingwiththeD.C.,strugglingto catchthebarman'seye. TheDistrictCommissionerisatall,stylishKikuyuAfricancalledWilliam.Hetells metwothingsofgreatinterest.One,thattourismistheonlythingthatwillsave Africanwildlife,sinceAfricansthemselvescanseenoadvantageinkeeping endangeredspeciesalive,unlessitistomakemoneyoutofsentimental foreigners.Two,thatAfricanscan'tputupwith'hippies'.WhenanAfricansees fiveraggedAmericanssharingthesamebottleofCoke,heknowstheyallhave millionairefathersinMilwaukee,andconsidersheisbeingconned. NextdayIcrosstheborderofficially.TwobusloadsofJehovah'sWitnessesare comingbacktoAddisAbabafromacongressinNairobi.Alltheirbelongingsare strewnovertheground,andcustomsaregoingthrougheverythingmercilessly. Theirliteratureisallbeingconfiscated,hugeheapsoftractsandbooksand 'newsletters'arereadyforburning.Itsurprisesmetoseehowprosperoustheyall look. FromMoyalebeginsthelastlongruntoNairobi,threehundredmilesofscorching semidesertandthentheEquator.I'mveryexcited.Thereisarealroadthistime, partofabignewhighway,butunsurfaced.Itisheavilycorrugatedmostofthe way,butsomehowthatdoesn'tbothermesomuchanymore.Halfwayalong,the luggagerackonthebackoftheTriumphfractures,whippedtopiecesbythe vibration. I'mstandingtherewonderinghowtogetmystufftothenextstagetorepairit, whenaPeaceCorpsmancomesalonginapickup,andcarriesmyluggageon toMarsabitforme.ThereagnarledDanishwoodworkinstructorwithaworkshop helpsmetoweldtheracktogetheragain.IbegintounderstandthatinAfrica, somehoworother,thereisalwaysaway. Thiscountryisnotproperlydesert,butsavannah.Therearebushesandlow trees,andthereisgame.AlreadyIhaveseenostrichwithgloriouspinkplumes, andthen,justbeforeMarsabit,Icomeacrossaherdofgiraffe.WhenIstop,they observemequizzicallyforawhileoverthetopsofthetrees,andthengallop away.Iamabsolutelyspellbound.TheonlyotherkindofmovementwithwhichI cancomparethisincomparablesightisthatmomentwhenabigairliner,having justtakenoff,seemstohangovertheendoftherunwayincompletedefianceof nature.Thegiraffeglidesthroughtheairasthoughinfreefall. AhundredmilesfromtheEquator,thegroundbeginstoriseoutofthedesert.On 5January,andonlythirtymilesfromtheEquator,Ifindithardtobelievemyeyes.

IseemtobetravellingthroughthesouthofEngland,Sussexmaybe.Theairis coolandfresh.Thereareflowersinthehedgerows.Oneitherside,wellkept farms,withgates,cowsongreenpasture,andcountrycottageswithlawns,and onthegates,paintedwoodensignsannouncingSmith,andClarkandThompson. AtThompsonIcannotbeartogoanyfartherandonimpulseIturnintothedrive way.Itendsinfrontofacottagebuiltpartlyofstone,partlyofwood.Thereisa dovecoteonapost,alawnwithrosebeds,astreamrunningpast.Beyondthe lawn,likeapicturepostcardinthesky,isMountKenyaundersnow.AnAfrican servantreceivesme.Themasterandmistressarenothomeyet.Pleasetowait, andhavesometea.Inachintzarmchair,amongEnglishcountryfurniture,likea veryselfconsciousbullinachinashop,Iwaitandmarvel. ArthurThompsonandhiswifeRuthseemnotatallsurprisedtofindmesitting there.Theytalktomeforawhile,andinvitemeforthenight.Hewasasoldier, fromNorthumberland,older,greyhaired,ulcers.SpeakingwithatraceofGeordie mixedwithcolonialheputsmuchemphasisonthe'classlessness'ofthewhite communityhere.Sheisyounger,plump,pretty,strongnatured.Theygrowmaize, wheat,barley,pyrethrum,haveeightyJerseycows,athousandorsosheep.All onthreethousandacres. 'Hadagoodlifeforthirtyyears,'hesaid,'butit'snearlyovernow.TheKenya Governmentisboundtobuyusoutsoon.They'resettlingAfricansoutherenow.' Wheretogothen? 'SouthAfricalooksgood.Ican'tseeEuropelettingthatgo.Iftheydothere'llbe nowayroundforshipping.Tooimportantstrategically.IthinkRhodesia'sbound tostaywhiteforthesamereason.' Wishfulthinking,butitisJanuary1974.EventhePortuguesearestillinAfrica. Thompsonisdirect,butnotbitter.Hedoesnotstrikemeasabigotedman.He feelsforhisland,likeagoodfarmer. 'It'snotsuitableforsettlement,forKikuyufarming,'hesays.'There'snotenough rain.TheKikuyuneedsrain.Hismethodistoexhausta patch,thenmoveonandletitgobacktobush.Hegoesroundincircles.Around hut.Thenthewomangrowsyamsroundthat.Outside,inabiggercircle,theman growsmaize,androundthathehunts. 'Butwithoutirrigation,he'llgetnothinguphere,andthelandwillberuined.' Trueorfalse?Icannotpossiblyknow,butIdofeelhisconcern,andthatIknowis genuine.Heisstillreclaiminglandwashedoutbeforehearrived,eventhoughhe iscertainnevertoprofitfromit.Ifeelhisidentificationwiththeseacres,and wonderhowhecouldevertearhimselfaway.AlloverAfricathewhitemanis beingpulledupbytheroots.Weededout.Therewillbemuchpain. NextdayI'minNairobi!HalfwaythroughAfrica.Anothermagicmilestone.Likeall milestones,somethingtolookforwardto,somethingtolookbackon,butatthe time,nothingmorethanapretextforindulgence.Hotels,Restaurants,Drinks, Showers,Banks,Clubs,Publicity. LondontoNairobi.Seventhousandmiles.Somethingtoshoutabout. Noneofthismeansanythingtome.Nothingofmyjourneymeansanythingto anyonehere.Weareengagedinaconspiracy,pretendingtounderstandeach other.Isn'tthatwhatmakestheworldgoround?ImeetamanIonceknewin London.Heisrubbinghishandstogetheroverthesamedeals,pickledand preservedinthesameurbanity.NairobiandLondonarejoinedbyasilvertube

thatswoopsthroughthepasteurizedether,andthesamestuffpoursoutateach end. IdressfortheMuthaigaCountryClub,afunctioningrelicfromthedaysbeforethe tableswereturned.Anyonecanjoinnow,butinpracticeit'smuchthesameblue eyedcrowd,stillenjoyingtheprivilegeswithoutthepower. Darkpolishedwood,spaciousrooms,parquetfloorsandpillars,andawinecellar stillintact. 'Well,oldchap,theysayyourboat'sinabsoluteshiteorder.'Gamefishermen, NewZealanders,talkingabouttheMarlinoffKilifi. 'Whatevertheysay,life'sstillprettycolonialhere.TheAfricanspretendtoobject, but...' SmokedSailfishandLamb'sKidneysTurbigoforlunch,withagoodclaret. Atmyhotelintheafternoontherearethreepeoplesittingnearme,anAfrican,an Indianinaturban,andanAsianwoman. She:Look,youcansee,oneeyeishigherthantheother. Asian:Well,yournoseiscrooked. She:YesIknow,itwasabadaccidentIhad.Verybad.NowIhavethefeeling whenIlookthatonesideishigherthantheother. African:Youshouldtakeahammerandstraightenit. She:Youshouldn'tthinkit'ssofunny. African:It'sbettertoseesomethingthannothing.ButifyoulieonthegroundI'll giveitagoodkick. OntheterraceatsundowntheAfricansingreyflannelsandshortsleevedshirts havebeensittingatasmalltablesincelunchtime,withbeercomingattherateof threeorfourpintsanhour.TheyarespeakingSwahililardedwithEnglish phrasesandwords.'Anyway,letuscomparethisthing',or'Wemustanalyzethat thing'.RatherthewayweusedtothinkitsmarttouseFrench. 'Isitbetter,'oneofthemburstoutinEnglish,'tomakethewrongdecisionatthe righttime,ortherightdecisionatthewrongtime?' Ifeelsomesympathyandkinship.Itooamplayingthiswhiteman'sgame, pretendingitisimportant. Myhost,theLucasagentinNairobi,risesabovepretence.Heistherealthing,a hugefloridmanwithabigappetitewholovesthelife,thebusiness,thewhole ridiculousmixture. 'We'vejustboughtaplane,'hetellsme.'Brandnew.Arrivedyesterday.34,000. Wheredoyouwanttogo?' 'Well,there'sthisIrishdoctorwhoinvitedmetoLodwar?' 'Fine.Noproblem.We'lltakeyouthereonTuesday,fetchyoubackonThursday. Suityou?' Lodwar,inthenorthwestcornerofKenya,hundredsofmilesfromNairobi,atthe edgeofnowhere.Deserttothenorth,deserttothewest,deserttothesouth'.To theeast,LakeRudolfandbeyondthat,desert.TheTurkanatribeliveshere, alongsideariverbed,nowdrylongthinblackbodiesswayingindolentlyagainst abackdropofhotsandandbleachedgrass.Theyhavegoats,growsomemillet, liveoffthedesert,helptomakethedesert.Atnighttheydance,inabigcircle, menandwomen,stampingfeet,chantingadescendingfifth,Hommhommmmm, Themaninthemiddlejumpsandsings,lookI'magiraffe,I'malion,I'man antelope,andsoheis,theyallrecognizehim,seehowhesetshisshoulders, cockshishead,higherandhigherhejumps,ourbrother,ourprey.TheTurkana

werehunters,buthuntingisillegalandthereisalmostnothinglefttohunt.At nighttheydance,andwearostrichfeathersandostricheggshellornaments,and anklebells,andbrightlycolouredtableclothsfromIndia,andthegirlswearlong goatskinspainstakinglysewnalloverwithbeads,andcollarslikebridles,andred mudintheirhair.Andsometimes,secretlythementaketheirspearsoverthe edgeintonowhere,andraidsomebodyelse'slivestock. Duringthedayablacksmithinagrasshutmakesspearsoutofcarspringsfor saletotouristsinNairobi.IamtheonlywhitevisitorherebutIammadetofeel likeatourist.Thegirlscome,armsoutstretched,begging andselling.ForafewshillingsIcouldstripanyoneofthembareofthelittleshe wears.WhoaretheTurkana? 'TheTurkanaareverytreacherous...conceitedandidle.' H.Johnston,1902 'TheTurkanaisacarelessandcruelherdsmanandamostefficientliar.'E.D. Emley,1927 'Afeatureofsociallife...isthecontinualbegging...theonlylimitsIamawareof arethatamanmaynotbeganotherman'swife.Savageandwildasthecountry helivesin,sohewillremain,inmyopinion,totheendoftime.'P.K.Gulliver, 1963 Timecametoanendabruptlyafewyearsafterthoselastwordswerewritten, withthebaddroughtandcholeraofthesixties.UntilthentheTurkanahadbeen freeofaidorinterference.Therehadbeennoschools,noclinics,no administration.Onlyanoccasionalpunitiveexpeditiontocontroltribalwarfare. ButfamineanddiseasepersuadedtheGovernmenttoopenuptheNorthern FrontierProvincetothemissionariesandaidsocieties. TodaythereareflyingdoctorsfromNairobi,missionclinics,schools.Therearetin roofs,andsouvenirs,andtheselfconsciousassumptionofhaughtyprideinfront ofthecamera,followedbytheoutstretchedhandforaposingfee.Lifeseemsto goalongmuchthesameasbefore,thedancingandlaughingandbeggingand lying,exceptthatnowthereismoretobegfor,youdon'tdiesoeasily,andthere arewhitepeoplefussingaroundinpantsanddresses.Notliketheolddaysunder DistrictCommissionerWhitehousewhomadenativedressderigueurfor everyone,buteveryone. AndtheTurkanastillthinknothinghaschanged.Theyactuallybelievetheyare thecentreoftheuniverse.Listentotheoldheadman,theM'zee,talking: 'Withonespearwecankillalionoranelephantoragiraffe.Accurateattwenty feet.TheTurkanawillneverchangetheircustoms.Ifanyothertribetriesto overcomeuswewillbeatthem.' Savageandwilduntiltheendoftime?ButtheM'zeeiswearingcorduroy trousers,forheaven'ssake,andastripedshirt.Oldman,can'tyousee,youwere boughtandsoldforahandfulofwhitemedicineandsomeruledexercisepaper. Yourchildrenwillnotkillalion,notwithtwentyspears,notattwentyinches.Why didyouwantschools? 'Sothatchildrencangetgoodjobsinthecityandsendmoneybacktotheir parents.Buttheywillneverforgettheirtribeonlythebadones.'

Oh,therewillbemanybadonesintheshantiesofNairobi,whereothertribes wonthewarlongago,andmostofthegoodjobs. IntheDistrictHospital,DoctorGerryByrnefromDublinlooksupfromapatient's bedsideandIdiagnoseastonishmentalloverhischerubiccountenance.Six monthsearlierhehadwrittentotheSundayTimes:'DearMrSimon,Ifonyour journeyroundtheworldyouhappentobepassingnearLodwar...'buthenever foramomentbelieved. Heisreallychuffed,hisbigspectaclesgleamwithpleasure.Blackbodieslieall aboutwithmodestgreencottonwrapsroundtheirmiddles.It'sthewomen'sward wrinkledpapsflapping,dustonthesolesoftheirfeet.Therearelotsofbrightnew bandageswherethey'vebeencutopen,abatchofpostopslefttohealbythe monthlyflyingdoctorsfromNairobi.Mostlytheyhavehadhydatidcystsremoved, thelocalmenacetheygrowtoenormoussize,oftenintheliverorspleen,like clustersofgrapesinsyrup,andwhentheyburstyoudie.Itisthoughtthedogs carryitabout. Thereisaprettygirlwithspindlylegsdyingofamalignanttumour,butnoonecan betold,certainlynotthefamily,becausetheirrage,saysGerry,wouldbe uncontrollable.Also,hesays,whenthegriefisallburnedout,thereisnothingleft. WhenTurkanaparentsknowtheirchildisdying,theyleaveittostarve.There neverwastoomuchfoodaround.Theydon'tburythecorpses.Theyputthemout forthehyenas,tokeepthemeatincirculation,asitwere. ItishotinLodwar,excessivelyhot.Attimesyoucanseetheheatwavinginthe air. Outsidethehospitalaremanymorepatientslyingonthegroundwiththeir families,notthroughshortageofbedssomuchasbecausetheylikeitthereand theirfamiliescomeandcookforthem.Hygiene?Sowhat?Therateofrecoveryis high.Thepainthresholdishightoo. 'Themenlikehavingtheirfeetcutoff,'saysGerry. What?Ialmostshout. 'There'sathingtheygetthatswellstheirfeetup.Wecanstopit,butthefootstays big.Buttheyprefertohaveitcutoff.' WhiteMedicineisAmazing,saysGerry,fullofwonderandmisgivings.Imean,it wasneverlikethisbackinDublin.Outhereamiracledrugstilldoesmiracles. PenicillinislikeitwasinthedaysofFlemingashotcuresjustaboutanybody instantly,especiallychildren.Troubleis,youaskyourselfsometimes,whatamI savingthemfor?AlmosteverybodyinKenyaisundersixteenalready.There's nothingforthem todo,notmuchforthemtoeat,evenintheprosperouspartsof thecountry.Tomultiplythepopulationouthere,inthedesert,seemscrazy.Oh, myHippocraticOath,saysDoctorGerry,Idon'tknow.Whydon'tyouaskthe Bishop? Thedoctor'sexpensesandmodestwagearepaidforbytheMedicalMissionaries ofSt.Mary,andtherereallyisabishopinLodwar,BishopMahon.Doeshehave theanswers?Notonyourlife. 'I'vegivenupthinking,'hesays.TneverdidverymuchofitandnowIdon'tbother atall.Justgetonwithit.Letthefuturetakecareofitself.' Spokenwithhumour,vigoroushumility.He'sgotmynumberalright.Ifhedidhave theanswersIwouldn'tbelievethem. Heisquitereadytoacceptthathemightbecreatingmoreproblemsthanhe solves.'Whatcanyoudo?Youcan'tletpeopledie.Canyou?'I'mnotbrave

enoughtosay:Yes,it'sbeingdoneallthetime.Wearesittinginahousethe Bishopbuilt.Heknowsexactlywheretosit,withhisbacktoanopenlattice cementwallthathedesignedhimselffromeasilymouldedunits.Thebreeze comesthroughtohim,butfailstoreachme,andIamabuzzwiththirstyflies swarmingfanaticallyintomylipsandmyeyes.Iamuncomfortablyawarethat therearenofliesontheBishop. He'sastrong,leantoughmanwithtobaccocolouredteethandstraightsilverhair, inshortsandateastainedshirt.NineyearsinNigeria,sixinTurkana,andan occasionalwhirlaroundtheStatesraisingmoney.Hehassmallhospitalsin variousoutlyingvillages,staffedbyDanishvolunteersaswellashisownhome grownIrishpastorsandsisters. Hecan'texplainwhatmotivatestheDanes(itiscertainlynotreligion)butsays theyaremuchbettersuitedtothework,andlessdemandingthanhisownchurch folk.Hisnuns,hefears,aretoooftendoctrinaireandofficious,andtheir inflexibilitymakesithardforthemtowithstandthepressures.Allthesenaked breasts,forexample,althoughtheydon't,anymore,goaroundpersuading nativestocoverup.TheBishopsmilesfaintlyatrememberedscenesofoutrage attheNorwegiandonatedswimmingpoolwhereinflexiblenunsinuptight swimsuitsareexposedtotheunselfconsciousnaturalismofsuppleDanes. TheBishop's'actionman'stancehasnotblindedhimtohisresponsibilities. Havingwroughtthemiraclesofmodernmedicinehefeltobligedtotryforthe fishesandtheloavesaswell.AnFAOmanreportedthatLakeRudolfwas capableofbreedinganddeliveringbetweenfiftyandonehundredandfifty thousandtonsofNileperchayear,sotheBishopgotthatonegoing.Ambitious Asianbusinessmensmashedanaeroplaneandalorrybringinginthe refrigeration.Therewasalreadyanirontrawlerinthelake,broughtand assembledtherebytheBritishinmorespacioustimes.Theyhadgoodearly catches,butthenyieldsdroppedandtheschemefailedtofulfilitself.Sohe turnedtoloaves,withanirrigationschemeupriver. 'Atnextrains,inApril,weshouldgetaboutfiftyacresundercultivation.We're aimingforseveralhundred,butit'shardgoing.Theyaren'tallindustrious. 'WithoutustheretodirectthemIdon'tthinktheycouldmanageitontheirown. I'mafraidthechannelswouldsoonchokeup.' Butthat'sworryingaboutthefuture,andwedon'tdothat,dowe. Mahonrelatestheupsanddownsofhismissionarylifeinthewayoldermen describetheirhopesanddisappointmentsintheirsons,withwistfulfondnessand faithinthegoodnessoftheiressentiallifeandintentions,whatevertheoutcome. HewouldnotwillinglyreturntoWesternlife(norwouldanyofthevolunteersits selfish,indulgentnatureistooblatantviewedfromhere),buthehasfew expectations.Heisresignedtocriticismofhis'meddling'innonmedicalmatters. ItseemsthatthetechnocratsofOxfamandthespecialistreliefagencieshave oftensnubbedhispeople,andhefeelstheyareallvulnerable. 'Weprojectaterribleimageonthesepeople,goingroundinLandrovers,livingin concretebuildings,butifwebuildinmudthetermitesworktheirwayupthewalls andeatthedoorjambsandattacktheroof.We'vetriedmostthings.There'sa chapouttherenowlivinginatent.He'shappyenough,butIthinkhe'sdoing harmbecausewhenhegoesIcanfindnobodytoreplacehimwhowouldputup withthoseconditions.'

HewarnshispeoplealwaysaboutimposingtheirstandardsontheTurkana.'My onlyhopeisthatafterafewyearswecanovercomethebadeffectsbyshowing themthatwecareaspeople.' Trulyapioushope. Mypeopleareatreacherous,conceited,idle,careless,cruel,lyingandbegging people.Haveyoucometopreserveusortochangeus?Ha!Mypeopleareatall, beautiful,vigorous,savageandwildpeopleourmencanmovelikethelion,the antelopeandthegiraffe,andourwomencanmoveasyourwomenhave forgottentomove.Doyouwantustocare,aswell? Still,IliketheBishopalot,andIevenpreferhisnunstothepopeyedUNgirlsI sawRoveringaroundinEthiopiaintheirsolartopeesandprettysafarisuits. AndIreallylikethehorribleTurkana.Aswellasalltheotherthingstheyare,Ifind themverysexy.Ishouldknowwedancedtogether.HommhommmmmIwent, andstampedmyfeet.Theyweredeterminedtomakeatouristoutofme.Alright,I said,I'llBEafuckingtourist,andIbargainedforeverythinginsight.AtnightIwent tothestampinggrounddownbeyondthegrasshuts,wherethefirewaslit,and watchedthemdoingtheirmagicalleapingzoonumbers.Ohboy,Isaid.Pictures,I gottahavepictures. TheChief'ssonandheirapparentandprospectiveMemberofParliamentfor Lodwarwhispersgentlytomethroughtheholetheyallhaveknockedintheirfront teethincaseoflockjaw.'Twogoatsandsomecornbeer,andIthinkwecouldfix something,'hesays. 'Okay,'Isay.'Getthegoats.'Twosleeklittleblackgoatsandenough cornforeightgallonsofovernightbeercostninetyshillings,deductibleon expenses.Emmanuel,theChief'sson,isbeingnicetome.It'saknockdown priceforaraveup.Hisadjutant,theMinderbenderofLodwar,inkhakishortsand sandals,hasawholeintriguegoingalready.Twogoats,hesays,willnotfeeda tribe,sowewillchooseonlythebestandbravestdancers,andthechoicestand mostnubilemaidens,andwewillmakeasecretrendezvousawayoverthere. EvenIknowthere'snotachanceofkeepingitquiet.Thisfellowjustlovestoplot, andeverybody'sveryhappytojoininthemischief.Nextafternoonthechosenfew assemble.Themengatherinsideoneofthecompounds,wheretheypretendto beunobservedastheybringouttheirbestwarriorheadgearandtheirfinesttable linentowraproundtheirwaists.Thegirlsarealreadyontheirway,twittering excitedlylikeallgirlseverywheregoingtoaball,thelonggoatskinspolishedand weightedwithred,whiteandbluebeadsswingingdramaticallyfromsidetoside, stretchedandmouldedovereachtouristtantalizingbuttock,sogirlishand prominentthatIcan'thelpmakingtheincongruouscomparisonwithbustlesina Regencyballroom.Aswellastheirfinestbeadstheyareslungwithnecklaces andbraceletsandornamentalapronstoindicatetheirwealthandmarriageability, andtheyhavefresh,glisteningredmudontheirpartlyshavenheads.Thenewly fermentedcornbeerisintwosquareandshinyfourgalloncanscalled'debbies', andtwogirlscarrythemontheirheadswithbreathtakingeaseandgrace, makingthecansdancewiththeirbodies,investingthoseblunttincanswiththe eleganceoftherichestamphorae,leavingtheirarmsfreetotrailenticingly throughtheairastheyplungeforward,almostrushingbutbeautifullycontrolled, tothedance.Whilethemenstalkalonginaseparategroupwearingtheirostrich feathercrownsandbrilliantcloakslikelords,andatthisstageIdon'tcarewhether thetableclothsweremadeinBirmingham.

Ofcoursethewholevillageknowsthere'ssomethingup.Littlenakedblackspies havebeenbuzzingroundthecompoundsforhours.Asweproceedacrossthe dunes,amobofthecuriousfollowatarespectfuldistance.Whatpuzzlesthemis thetimeofday.It'smuchtooearlyfordancing,butIinsistedonpicturesby daylight.Onthechosensiteabigfireisstartedimmediately,andthetwoinnocent blackbeastsareceremoniallyspeared,guttedandtossedintotheflamesinone piece,hideandall. Thegirlsarerehearsing,handslinkedinaline,singingachantandmakinglittle runsacrossthesand.Themeninsistonposingforendlessgroupshots,facesset inthesternestexpressions,exceptforMinderbenderwhofoolsaboutconstantly inhiskhakishorts,ruiningthefakeauthenticityandmakingitreal.Thenthey danceandIhavetogoleapingandsquattingandrollingaboutonthegroundwith my28mmtryingtorememberhowDavidHemmingsdiditinBlowUp,untilthe lightdiesandit'stimetocarvethegoats. Bynowthecampfollowershavecaughtthescentofsizzlinghideandare assembledontherisinggroundwatchingenviously,andintheirfrontrankare severalancientgeezerswithexpectantexpressions.Thetribalbutchersbegin cuttingtheanimalsintolumpsandlayingthemoutonatableofbranchesand greenleaves,butthere'stroubleintheair,andIhearvoicesraisedamongthe warriors.Nottooloud,asyet,becausetheirmouthsarefullofmeatandgristle, butasthemeatdwindlesaway,thealtercationbecomesmoreheatedandtomy surprisehalfthefirstteamgetsupandstalksoff,lookingveryfierce. 'Ah,'saysEmmanuel,Tamsorrybutwemustfinishnow.' Therehasbeenaschisminthetribe.Aheresyhasbeenexposed.Accordingto tribaltraditionthegoatsshouldbeslicedupinacertainway,andthechoicecuts offeredtothetribaleldersfirst(whowouldundoubtedlyaccept).Fuckthat,said MinderbenderandhisRevolutionaryCouncil,whyshouldtheoldgeezershave thebestbits.Theyweren'teveninvited.Butsomeofhisfollowersarenotso staunchlyprogressive.Havinglickedtheirchops,theydecideit'stimetosuckup totheelders,andtheystageaRoyalistDemoandWalkout.Undertheir tablecloths,itiswhispered,theycarryextrapiecesofgoatforlater. Agoodafternoon'swork.IgotmypicturesIhaveshownthattheTurkanaare indeedconceited,treacherous,andalltherest.AndIhavedemonstratedwhat onetouristandacoupleofgoatscandotoripapartthestructureofatribal society.Tomorrowthesightseerscancomeontheir747sfromFrankfurtand Chicagoandcleanuptheremains. Thereisnothingleftformetodobuttogatherupmysouvenirsandflybackto Nairobi.Iwonder,wouldithavebeenlikethatifIhadarrivedonmymotorcycle? No.I'msureitwouldn't.Flying,Irealize,canbevery,verydangerous.Ihearthe puristsmockingme.Motorcycles,theysay,arejustasalienatingasaircraft,same technologyslicedadifferentway.Theydon'tunderstand.It'stheeffectonmeI'm talkingabout.Thelong,hardsolitaryjourneyinducesadifferentkindofrespect.I meantokeepitthatwayfromnowon. Butthen,Iwouldneverhavegotthepictures.OhGod,Idon'tknow,andit'sno useaskingtheBishop.... IwantedtogettoMombasaanddrinkabeer. Inotonlywantedit,Iexpectedit.LifeinNairobihadsoftenedme.Insteadofa beerIhadaflattyre. 'Bloodyhell,'Isaidbitterly.'Justthesortofthingyou'dexpect.'

Petulant.Frustrated.Iraisedmyvoice.Whynot?Emptyhighway.Noonearound. 'Isn'tthatjustbloodyperfect?'Ishouted. 'Yes',saidGod,butIdidn'thearhim. Isworeatthetopofmyvoiceandthewordlostitselfinthetangleofweedsatthe roadside.Itbecametimetodosomethinguseful. IwasannoyedbecauseIhadjusthadtwoweeksinNairobitooverhauland repairtheTriumph,towashitandgreaseitandfitfinenewleatherbagsonthe tank,andnewtyresandtubesonthewheels,andhereIwasahundredandfifty milesdowntheroadtoMombasawithapuncture,andalotofdirty,uninteresting workinfrontofme.FurthermoreitwasmiddayandIwastwodegreessouthof theEquatorandalmostdowntosealevelatthehottesttimeoftheyearand wearingaflyingjacket. Hotasitwas,Ifoundtheflyingjacketcomfortabletowearaslongasthebike wasmoving.Itsstiffnesssavedmefromalotofthefatiguethatcomesfrombeing continuallybuffetedbytheair,andIwassparedtheproblemoffinding somewheretopackit.Iknewitlookedoddtobewearingsheepskininthetropics andIenjoyedtheeffect,butwhentheairflowstopped,Ihadaboutthirtyseconds beforeIreachedboilingpoint,andmythirtysecondswereup. Itrundledthebikecarefullyonthewheelrimofftheedgeoftheroad,kickedout theswingstand,dismountedandthrewthejackettotheground.Thenthegloves. Thenthehelmet.ThenIstartedonthebaggage. Notevenamaddogwoulddothisinthemiddaysun,Ithought. InNairobitheyhadwarnedme.It'sagoodtarroadtoMombasa,theysaid,four orfivehoursinacar,buttheroadsurfacegetssohotthatitcausespunctures.In NairobiIhadletsomeoneelsefitthenewtubesandhehadpinchedtherearone withthetyrelevers,makingsomanyholesthatIputtheolderpatchedoneback instead.Nowtheheathadmeltedoffthepatches.ThatiswhatIthoughthad happened,anditgavemeagoodchancetoputtheblameonsomeoneelse. 'Bloodyfool,'Isaid.Butthebloodyfoolwasme,forbeingtoolazytodoitmyself, andfornotstartingearlierinthemorningwhentheroadwascooler. Normallyapuncturewasnotadisaster.Withpracticeandanhour'senergetic workitwouldbedone.FirstIhadtotakealltheheavystuffoffthebike,because withthereartyreflatitwasimpossibleformetoliftitontothecentrestand.And onasoftsurfaceIhadtofindsomethingfirmtolayunderthecentrestandas well.Igotoutthetools,andsoap,andacupfulofwaterandarag.Thentheright exhaustmufflerhadtobedropped,whichmeansunscrewingacoupleofsmall nutswiththeirwashersandlayingthemcarefullyontheoutspreadrag.Withthis donethespindlecouldbeunscrewedandwithdrawnfromtheaxle,andthe spacerandwheeladjusterwithit,andallputontheragawayfromgritand concealingclumpsofgrass.Itriedtothinklikeamanual. ThenIhadagoodtrickIhaddiscovered.Withtheswingstandoutaswell,the bikewouldleanovertotheleftatacrazyangleandtherewasroomtotakethe wheeloffthesplinesandslipitoutfromunderthemudguard.Withoutthistrick,or somethingsimilar,itwasimpossibleforonemantoremovetherearwheel.Itwas calledaQuicklyDetachablewheel,anditwascertainlyeasierthantakingoffthe sprocketandchainalso,butithadnot,Ithought,beenbroughttoapitchofgreat refinement. Withthewheeloff,havingrememberedatthelastminutetodetachthe speedometercable,therewerethesecurityboltstoloosen.Theseweretwobolts

whichclampedthetyretotherimandcausedmanyspectatorstowonderwhyI hadthreeairvalvesonmywheelinsteadoftheusualone.Thenutscouldbe hardtoundobecauseofthefilththatgatheredonthem,butIhadtwopiecesof plastictubeovertheboltspackedwith greasesothat,onceloosened,thenutscouldbequicklyspunoffwiththefinger. Thatsavedabouttenminuteseachway. Newtyreswerehardertogetoff,especiallywiththerathersmallleversIwas obligedtocarry,butthesoapywaterhelpedalot.UnfortunatelywhenIpulledout thetube,therimbeltwhichcamewithit,snapped.Therimbeltprotectsthetube fromtheinsideoftherimwhereallthespokescomethrough,anditisobviously safertohaveone.Ihadnospare,anotherreasonforcursing. Therewasnothingwrongwiththeoldpatchesafterall.Thereweretwonew puncturesontheinsideofthetube,tinyslits,andnearthemInoticedscorelines andplaceswheretherubberhadblistered. 'ShitanddamnationIsaid,and'Merdepuissancetreize.'Isworealotinthose days,inaratherdullwaybutwithfeeling. Clearlytheoldtubewasnogoodanymore,andIwouldhavetorepairthe puncturednewone.Itwasdifficultinthatheat,withthefliesrefreshing themselvesonmysweat,tobethorough,particularlywiththeclumsypatchesI wascarryingatthetime. ThebesttrickinmyrepertoirewasprovidedbyacompanycalledSchraderin Birmingham.TheymadeavalvewithalongtubewhichIcouldscrewintothe engineinsteadofasparkplug.Aslongasyouhadatleasttwocylinders,you couldruntheengineononeandtheotherpistonwouldpumpupyourtyre.SoI wasabletopumpupthetube,anditseemedalright. Iputthepunctureroutineintoreverse.Thetyrerimsslidsnuglyintoplaceonthe soap,andthewheelpumpeduphard.TwentyminuteslaterIhadeverythingback onthebikeandwaswashingmyhandsinthelastofthesoapywaterwhenIsaw thetyrewashalfflat. Thelifedrainedoutofmethen.Icouldnotevenfindtheenergytoswear.I droppeddownonthejacketandpulledoutmycigarettes,andtriedtothinkabout otherthings.Itwasverypleasanthere,Ithought,ifyouhadnothingtodo.Hotter thanNairobi,certainly.Butnottoohot.Notatall.Andpleasantlydry. Ilookedatthevegetationalongsidetheroad,tryingtorecognizeitorfixitinmy memory,butIcouldnotmakeoutanythingcharacteristicenoughtoattractmy attention.Therewerevariouswildflowersthatlookedtomelikewildflowers everywhere,andlowshrubsandbushesthatlookedthesameasanyothers.I wasannoyedbymyinabilitytoseeplantsclearlyandrememberthem.Itwasa greatdrawback.Aboveallthingsatravellershouldhaveaneyefornaturaldetail, Ithought,sincethatiswhatheseesmostofthetime.Therewassomebamboo andIwasgladtofindatleastonethingIrecognized,notknowingthattherewere overtwohundreddifferentspecies. Beyondthelowvegetation,wherethelandhadoncebeenclearedforroad making,weretrees,equallyunknowntome,leafyandofmediumheight.Iwalked totheedgeofthewoodtorelievemyselfandwonderedwhethersomeenormous beastwasatalllikelytocomecrashingtowardsmethroughtheundergrowth. Probablynot,Ithought,sinceIhadseensmallfarmsthroughthetreesasIrode along.Infact,justamileorsobackIhadpassedapetrolstationatacrossroad,

withasign.Whathaditsaid?Ilookedatthemap.Thismustbeit.Kibwezi Junction. IwaswonderingwhattodonextwhenIsawPiuscomingtowardsme,thoughof courseIdidnotyetknowhisname.Hewasafatmaninthebestsenseofthe word,notgrossorobeseorflabbyorbloated,butofaprimemeatyplumpnessto makeacannibal'smouthwater.Hisblackbodywasenticinglywrappedinagaily floweredshirt,andhesatastridehislittleYamahamotorcycleonjovialtermswith theworldandwithameasuredsenseofhisownimportanceinit.Iwavedtohim andhestoppedbesideme. 'Canyouhelpme,Iwonder..."Isaid. 'Absolutely,'hesaid.'Mostdefinitely.Iseeyouarehavingtrouble,isn'tit.Aspot ofbother.' 'Well,mytyre'sflat...'andIwentontoexplain. IwillintroduceyoutoMr.PaulKiviu,'heburstoutenthusiastically.'Definitelyhe istheverymanofthemoment.HeismanagerBPstationKibweziJunctionand heismyfriend.' Mercifullytheroadwaslevelatthatpoint.AsIpushedtheloadedbikealongon itsflattyre,Piusbobbedaroundmelikeabutterfly,callingencouragement, imploringmetobelievethatmytroubleswouldsoonbeover.Hisgoodnature wasirresistibleandIbegantobelievehim. InanycaseIwashappythatsomethingwashappeningandIwasintouchwith people.AtthetimeitseemedtomethatwhatIwantedwastohavemyproblem solvedquicklytogetonmyway.IhadaboattocatchinCapeTownandthe journeywasstillthemainthing.Whathappenedontheway,whoImet,allthat wasincidental.Ihadnotquiterealizedthattheinterruptionswerethejourney. PaulKiviuunderstoodmyproblem.Therewasnothinghecoulddoaboutit,but heunderstooditand,astheysay,aproblemsharedisaproblemhalved.Piusdid notsomuchunderstandmyproblemasappreciateit.Herevelledinit,celebrated it,butPaulunderstooditbecausehehadproblemsofhisown.Hewas accustomedtothem,andhewasthefirstAfricanIhadmetwhowasmarkedby them.Hewassmall,thinandintense,andshowedsignsofworrying. HisBPstationhadaservicingbayandpumps.Themainbuildingwasasheltered areawithcolouredmetalchairsandtables,servedbyasmalllockupkitchen whereagirlinaheadscarfpushedsweetsanddrinksandsnacksacrossthe counter.Itwascleanandpolishedandquitethemost modernthingformilesaround.Wehadsomefizzydrinksandpotatochipsand thoughtaboutwhattodo. Itwassimplereally.IneededanewtubeanditwouldhavetocomefromNairobi. Thepuncturedtubecouldberepairedofcourse,buttherewasaverylongwayto gobeforeIcouldexpecttogetanewtube.TherewouldbenothinginTanzania,I guessed,orZambia,andinRhodesia,withtheblockade,itmightbedifficult. WhenIsawhowtheoldtubehadperisheditmademeunhappytobewithouta newoneaswellasanacceptablespare.SoIwouldcallMikePearson,theLucas agentinNairobi,andaskhimifhecouldgetaninnertubetomesomehow.Anda rimbelttoo. MeanwhilethebikecouldbesafelylockedupattheBPstation,andIwouldwait inKibwezi.

'Definitely.Thisisthesolution,'exclaimedPius,andwehadanotherfizzydrink andsomecigarettes.Alittlelater,whenapersoncouldseehisownshadow again,IsatonthebackofPius'Yamahaandwewentintotown. Kibweziwasajumbleofpaintedwoodframebuildingswithtinroofs,mostly singlestorey,onacrossroadsofbakedearth.Itwaswellawayfromthe Mombasaroadandcouldnotbeseenfromthere,butbusescameinandturned round,throwingupafinedust.Kenyawasverydryandcryingforrain.Many animalsinthereserveshadalreadydiedofthirst. Prominentonthecornerwas'TheCurryPotHotel'.Ontheothercornerwasthe mainstore,runasusualbyAsiantraders.Therewereothersmallshopsand bars,andintheroadwerefruitandvegetablestalls. Jammedbetweenthestoreandthenextshop,inaspacenobiggerthanalarge changingcubicle,wasKibweziPostOffice.Muchofthespacewasoccupiedbya fineoldwoodenswitchboard,andinfrontofit,earphonesclampedoverhishead, satKibwezi'sdeterminedpostmaster.Hewasscoldingoneofhiscustomerson thetelephone.ForyearshehadlabouredtodragthepeopleofKibweziintothe TwentiethCentury.Hehadlecturedandcajoledthemontheproperwayto addressanenvelope,onthedisrespectimpliedbystickingfirsttheQueen'shead andthenKenyatta'sheadonupsidedown,ontheneedwhensendingatelegram tohavesomeideaofwhereitwasintendedtogo. 'WhoisthisThomasN'Kumu?Ihavenoknowledgeofthisman.Heisnotthe PrimeMinister,isit?Priorimportancemustgotohisplaceofresidence.Firstwe mustknowwhereisthisN'Kumu,andthenwecanlookaboutmessages.' Hispatiencewasexhausted. 'Thatisthecorrectmethodfordealingwiththismatter,'heshoutedscornfullyinto thelittleblacktube,andwiththewrathofagodatJudgementDayhepulledout theplug. Ifacedthetyrantwithmynumber,exchangeandnameofpartyinfaultlessorder andhehadnochoicebuttoproceed.Hemanipulatedthecontrolsofthemachine throughwhichheruledtheworldand,withsurprisingefficiency,Iwasconnected toNairobiandmybusinesswas.concluded.Theywoulddotheirbesttofindthe tubesanddeliverthem.Atelegramwouldbesenttomethefollowingday.Itook uptemporaryresidenceatTheCurryPotHotel'. PiustookmebacktotheBPstationtofetchmyredbagwithmytoiletand shavingkit,andcleansocks.MostpeopleinKibweziwalkedbarefootorin sandals,butIhadnotgotanysandalsyetandhadreadsomewhereabout parasitesthatburrowedintoyourfeet,soIworeshoesandsocks.Sandalswould havebeenkindertomyswelteringfeetandtoeveryoneelsearound,aswellas savingsocks,buttheyweretoofardownonmylist.Ihadalonglistofdutiesthat ImeanttoperformwhenIhadtime.Theyincludednotes,lettersandarticlesto write,jobstodoonthebike,andmodificationsofmyvarious'systems',andthey tookpriorityoversandals.OnceIhadhadapairofsandalsbutcouldnotwear thembecausetheytooktheskinoffmytoes,sotheywentrightdownthelist again.IonlyallowedaproportionofmytimeforthingsIdidnotfeellikedoing, sinceIfoundthatthelistofthingsIoughttodowasendlessandwouldotherwise takeallthejoyoutoflife.IfatanytimeIreallywantedtodoanythingonthelist, ofcourseIdiditregardlessofpriority,butsandalsnevercameintothiscategory becauseofthepainfulrecollectionofskinnedtoes.That,byandlarge,washowI

arrangedmylife.Thelistwasnotwrittendown,butinmyheadandittailedoff downmyspinalcolumnwhereitsometimesgavemebackache. PaulhadanotherfriendvisitingattheBPstation,abigwellmuscledmancalled Samsonwithaplacidface.Hewasapolicemanbutoffduty,sowewhiledaway thetimeuntilPaulfelthehadworriedenoughfortheday,andwesetofffortown together. WewenttothebarthatwasafewdoorsdownfromthePostOffice.Itwasafter darkandtheroomwaslitbysoftlyhissingparaffinlamps.Ilikedthislightvery much,preferringittolightbulbsandthehorrificfluorescenttubeswhichhave probablybeeninstalledbynow. Theroomwassquarewithacounterdownoneside,andabouthalfadozen tablesonaplainwoodenfloor.Thedoorsandwindowsstayedopen,astheydid everywhereelse.Therewerealreadyseveralgroupsofmenthere,andwetook anemptytable,andordered.Thebeerwasservedbybargirls,andtherewere threeofthem,sotheywerenotverybusy.Theylikedbeingtherebecausethey couldsometimesgetoffwithamantheylikedthelookofandenjoythemselves, andifthemanwasfeelinggeneroustheycouldgetsomeshillingsaswell. Ididnotknowaboutthebargirlswhenwesatdown,butfoundout aboutitastheeveningadvanced.Theconversationwasveryanimated,fulloffun andlaughterastheyansweredmyquestionsandItriedtoanswertheirs. Thegirlsallworethesameloosepinkoveralls,buttoneddownthefront,and headscarves.Undertheoverallstheyworeonlyanylonhalf,slip.OfcourseIwas completelyusedtonakednessbythen,notjustintheEuropeanwayoffeeling freeofembarrassmentandnotgoinggoggleeyedatthesightofathigh,butin theAfricanwayofnotevendiscriminatingbetweendifferentpartsoftheanatomy becausewhentheyareallondisplaytogetherafinelyarchedbackora beautifullypoisedheadcanbejustasexcitingasabreastorabuttock.Onlythe sexualorganswerekepthiddenforspecialoccasions. ThepintbottlesofTuskerkeptcomingfromtheicechest,andPaulwasgetting anxioustofixmeupwithabargirl.AtfirstIwasonlyamusedbyhisefforts.Ithad beenseveralmonthssinceIhadbeenwithawoman,butIdidnotconsiderthata longtimeand,inanotherway,Ihadgotusedtocelibacy.Thetravellingwasso intense,Iwasreceivingsomuchstimulation,thatitwascompletelysatisfyingin itself.OnceoutofEuropetherewaslittleartificialeroticstimulation,particularlyin theMuslimcountries,andIhadbeguntothinkthatwemadetoomuchofitinthe West.Inanycase,prostitutionwouldhavebeenmyonlyrecourse,andnot feelingtheneedandconsideringtherisktoogreat,Iletthewhoresgoby. ButIlikedthesebargirls.Ilikedthelazywaytheyswungtheirlegsaround,the loosejointedwalk.Anditwasclearthattheywerechoosy.Therewasafreedom ofexpressionandmovementwhichliberatedmetoo,andoneofthemin particularappealedtome,soItoldPaulandheredoubledhisefforts. 'Theproblemisthis,'saidPaulitchingforaproblem 'thesegirlshavenotslept withaM'zungobefore.Theyareafraid.TheyarethinkingthataM'zungowillbe different.ButIwillpersuadethem.' Welaughedloudlyatsuchpreposterousignorance,andeventuallyoneofthe girlspromisedtoPaulthatshewouldcomebacklater,butshedidnotandIwasa littlesad. Inthemorningtherewasatelegramtosaythattheinnertubewouldbedelivered duringthedaytotheBPstation,soIwalkeddowntothejunctionandgottowork

againonthewheel.ThedaymovedbyslowlyandIletit,workingabit,and talkingandwatchingpeoplecomeandgoatthepump.Avanarrivedintheearly afternoon,shinyandbriskfromthecity,withtwotubesandtworimbelts,andI viewedNairobithroughKibwezieyesasawesomelyefficientandremote. Sothehothoursdriftedbyinworkandidleness,untilitwasdark,anddrinking timeagain.The'CurryPotHotel'hadseveralfeaturesthatdistinguisheditasone ofKibwezi'sprincipallandmarks.Thefirstwasamostimposingwoodengrill alongthecounterwhichfacedthevisitorasheentered.ItwasherethatIwas givenmyroomforafewshillings,andaformonwhichIwrote535439A10Sept. 7310Sept.83LondonForeignofficeBritishHamburgGermanySt.PrivatFrance BuilderNairobiMombasa18Jan.74EdwardJSimonwithoutevenlookingatmy passportorliftingmyballpenfromthepaper. Fromthereonewalkedthroughanopendoorintothebar,andfromthebarinto anenclosedcourtyard.Thearrangementsatthebarwererudimentarybut satisfying.Youcouldhavebeerortoddy.Idaresaytherewaswhiskyandginfor thebetterclassofclientele,maybemuchmore. Atthefarendofthecourtyardwasanotherfeaturewhichimpressedme.Itwas thegent'spisshouse,underitsowntinroof,averyneataffairofcharcoalina cementtrough.Theguests'roomswererangeddownthefarsideofthe courtyard.Theywereaseriesofcompartmentsmadeofcorrugatedironnailedto awoodenframewithahardearthfloor.Myroomhadamat,abed,withasheet andamattressstillinitsprotectiveplasticwrapping,asmalltablewithajugand basin,andIthinktherewasevenamirror.ItwasentirelyadequateandI considereditratherhighclass.Themetalwallswerepaintedsilverontheoutside toadornthecourtyardandgivepleasuretothedrinkers. Thesilverpaintglimmeredsoftlyinthelamplightasweallgatheredagainonthe secondnight,PaulandPiusandSamsonandI.Paulwaswearingawhiteshirt andaperkylittlefelthatwithacurlybrim,Samsonwasdressedinblacktrousers andamidnightblueshirtwithclothcoveredbuttons.Hewasthedarkestofthe three,andasthenightdeepenedhedissolvedblackonblackintotheshadows. Piuswas,asusual,garlandedinfloralprint,andhisbroadpumpkinfacegleamed brightly. PaulandSamsonhadbothbeenondutyuntilsundown,andwereoppressedby thoughtsofhumanbondage. 'Employmentisreallyabother,'saidSamson.Herockedhischairandthrusthis legsfurtherunderthetintoppedtable. 'Ohitisabotherindeed,'saidPaul.Henoddedhisjauntyhat,andturnedto explaintome. 'Yousee,thisfellowisnotfree.Heisgoingroundtownevenafterhisdutiesare finishedandsomepersonmaycomeatanytimesayinghisattendanceissorely neededincaseofasuddencrime,oritmaybeafatalaccidentandwhatand what.' PaulhimselfwasexpectedtobeathispostatKibweziJunctionfromseveninthe morninguntilsevenatnighteverydayoftheweekincludingSundays. 'YousawIhadtoleavethiscompanyfortwohoursyesterdayevening.Iwas forcedtogo,isn'tit.SomestorescameforthecanteensoImustgoto searchthestocks.Thiscanhappenatanytime...andIdonotknowifIhavea jobtomorrow.'

Thevoicewasneitherangrynorcomplaining.Itdescribedinsorrowfultonesthe lossoftranquillity.Responsibilityandguiltwereeatingintotheirlives,andbrought notsecuritybutincreasinguncertainty. ThirtymilesuptheroadtoNairobiwasPaul'sshamba,aplotoflandwherehis wifeandchildrenlived.Onceamonth,roughly,hemanagedtovisitthere. 'Whatisneededhere,'hewenton,'isathousandandfivehundredshillings.Then Icanbuildatankforwateronmyfarmandgrowmanythings.' Twohundreddollars,Ithought.Iwascarryingfivetimesthatamountonmeat thatmoment.Whatdifferencewouldtwohundreddollarsmaketomyfuture? TomorrowImightloseitall,andtonightitcouldtransformaman'slife.Ifeltthe excitementgrowinme,butcouldnotbringitout.Thenwhatwillyoudotomorrow, Iaskedmyself,whenyoumeetsomeonewhoneedsittosavealife?Isn'tthatit? Eitheryoukeepitalloryougiveitallaway.Howcanyouhopetotravelasa philanthropist?Idecidedtothinkaboutitmorecarefully,later.Atthebackofmy mindwasthedoubtwhetherthingswereexactlyasPaulsaid. Piuswasenlarging,meanwhile,onaninsuranceschemethatPaulcouldnot afford.TherewassomethingbothtouchingandsymbolicIfeltaboutthistrio,the smallAfricantryingtoturnanhonestpenny,withthemuscularforcesoflawand orderononeside,andtheplumppoweroffinanceontheother.Whowas Samsonreallyprotecting,andwhowasPiustryingtocon? 'Whatisthisinsuranceyouareselling,'IaskedPius,lapsinginvoluntarilyintothe dialect. 'Personsarelookingtomeforprotectionoflifeandproperty,'herepliedproudly. Iwonderedwhatkindofaccidentwasmostcommon. 'Snakebiteisacommonmatter.Mypoliciesarenotcoveringforsnakebite,'he added,asthoughthiswereapointintheirfavour. IsawthatSamsonwasmovedbythisinformation.Hestirredandsaidina surprisedtone,'Whatisthis?Youaresellingaccidentinsuranceandyouarenot coveringforsnakebite?' Iwasastonishedmyself. 'Thesnakebiteisnotanaccident,'saidPius.'Howcanyousayitis?Thesnakeis notbitingbyaccident.Itiswantingtobite.' Toourgatheringamazement,hewentontohistriumphantconclusion. 'Whereitistheagencyofalivingthing,thisisnotaccident.Thatisthepolicyof mycompany.' Weallthoughtthisoutrageous. 'Whataboutthemanwhowaskilledbyapigfalling?'Icried.'Thepigwaskepton abalconyinNaples,andthebalconybroke,andthepigfellonapedestrianand killedhim.Thatwasanaccident!' 'Thiswascausedbypersonsputtingpigonabalcony,'hesaidsmugly.'Definitely thiswasnotanaccidentalhappening.Itisallthesamewhetheritmaybeapigor alionorasnakeorwhatandwhat.' 'Well,'saidPaul,'Whenthepigwashittingthemanitmaybealreadydeadfrom heartattack,isn'tit.Sotobekilledbyadeadpigisanaccident.' 'Therewillbeaninquestonthepigalso,andacertificateshowingtimeofdeath,' Samsoncontributeddarklyfromtheshadow. TamnotinsuringforpigfallsorsnakebitesintheKibweziregion,'Piussaid wildly.'Definitely.' Ihopeyouexplainallthistoyourclients,'Isaid.

'Absolutely.Theylikeitverymuch,'hesaid. ThesillinessstoppedandwesankbackintothepeaceoftheKenyannight.More Tuskerscame.Itseemedpossibletodrinkanyamountofbeerwithoutmuch effect.Thetablewasalmostinvisiblenowundertheempties,butIfeltonlya comfortableaffectionforthecompanyandafrequenturgetovisitthecharcoal bed. TheyweresadthatIwasleaving.Wehadcometolikeeachotherquickly becausetherewasnoobstacletoourfriendship.Allwewantedfromeachother wastimeandrespect.Ofcoursetheywereflatteredbymyattention,anditwould bringoutthebestinthem.I,whohadcomesofaralreadyonsuchan unimaginablejourney,hadstoppedandgivenmyundividedattentiontothree menwhoseentirelivesweredescribedwithinahundredmileradiusofKibwezi. Thiswouldbenotimeformeanorpettybehaviour. TheSpiritIncarnateoftheGreatWorldofDreamsmeetswiththeThreeWise MenofKibwezi,andforfortyeighthoursallislightandtruth.Amancouldliveup tohisidealsforthatlong.Andtheydidhaveideals,thesethree,sowewere equals,andtheyshowedmetruecourtesyandpaidfortheirshareofthebeer. Andtheyshedatearforthemomentwhenthegreatbirdwouldflyon. Iwasbecomingacarrierofthedreamsofmen.Igatheredthemlikepollen, fertilizingasIwent.ButIhadnotyetquiterealizedmypower,noritstransforming effectonpeople,andIstillthoughttheywereasIsawthem. Paulhadrelapsedintomildmournfulness.'Tomorrowyouareleaving,isn'tit,'he said.'Yes.IhavetogoontoMombasa.'Hecametoadecision. 'Tonightyoumusthaveagirl,'hesaid,andcalledtothenearestbar girl.HewastalkingrapidlyinSwahiliandshecametowardsusgigglingabitand protesting,butshetookseveralgoodlooksatmygrinningface.Therewere furtherskirmishesoverthenextroundofTuskers,andthenPaulsaid,'Thematter issettled.Shewillcome.' Itwastoodarktoseeherfaceclearly.Isawonlythatshewassmallandseemed toberatherfat.IdidnotworrybecauseIwassurethatlikethenightbefore,the fearofthedreadedM'zungowouldfrightenheraway. Soonafter,therewasnoroom leftonthetableformorebottlesanditwastimeto stop.MyfriendswanderedoffandIwentintomyroomandlitthehurricanelamp. Itwasverywarmevenatmidnightandtheairwasstill.Happilythereseemedto benomosquitoes.Itookoffallmyclothesandlaydownonthesheet,readyto sleeplikethat.Ithoughtforamomentaboutthegirland,althoughIknewshe wouldnotcome,theideaexcitedme.Therewasataponthedoor.Repeated.I stoodupandlookedforsomethingtohidemyerection.ThenIthought'tohell withthat'andwalkedovertothedoorasIwasandopeneditcautiously. Thegirlstoodthere,andshecameinandlookedatmewithanexpressionof slightwonder.Thenshetappedmystiffprickapprovinglyacoupleoftimeswith theknuckleofherforefinger.Itstoodthetest.Iwasutterlyamazedatmyown behaviourandenjoyingitenormously. Shehadaniceyoungface,thoughIcouldnottellhowyoung.Sheputherfinger toherlips,appearingtobelisteningforsounds. 'Mama,'shewhispered.Iamcomingbacksoon,'andshedisappearedintothe night. Whenshereturnedshewalkedstraightintotheroomandtookoffherblueoverall andsatontheedgeofthebedlookingabitshyanduncertain.Shewasnotatall

fat.Thearchingofherbackwassopronouncedthatherfirmbreaststhrustthe bigoveralloutinfront,andherprominentbehindpusheditoutatthebackand betweenthetwoitseemedtoconcealahugetummy.Infactherbodywaslithe andlovely.Shestillhadthehalfslipon,butsoonthatwasofftooandanother bastionofracialprejudicecollapsed,forweseemedtofiteachotherperfectlywell andnothingIdidseemedtosurpriseherterriblyeither. Myfirstconcernwaswhetherornottokissher,butshedidn'tseemtoexpectit, andIkissedherbodyinsteadbecauseitfeltlikeanicethingtodo. Themainobstaclewasnotbetweenusbutbeneathus.Thesheetslippedand slidontheplasticmattresscover,andweglidedbackandforthonthesheetinan ecstasyofunpredictablemotion.Perhapsitwaslikemakingloveonskis.One wayoranotheritseemedthatwewereboundtowindupinatangleoflimbson theground.SeveraltimesIsavedusfromsailingovertheedgetodisaster,but thevoyagewasfinallyandsuccessfullyaccomplished.Afterawhileshegotup, trailingherhandlightlyonmyface,andlefttheroomwithoutasound. Ineversawheragain.ImeanttolookforhernextmorningbutIwasingreat confusionthenanddidnotknowwhattodo.Iwasverytakenwithher,butIknew Ihadtoleaveanditseemedfoolishlysentimentaltomakeafuss.Shehadnot askedmeforanything,notevenahintofit.Iwantedtogivehersomethingand hadnothingtogivebutmoney.IntheendIsimplyemptiedmypocketsandpiled whatwasthereonthetable.Itcametosevenshillingsandsomepennies.I wantedthearbitrarinessofittoseemlesslikeapayment,butitneverfeltright, andIleftthehotelunhappywithmyself. Ifeltafoolforbeingafraidtolooklikeone,becauseIwantedtofindherandhug her. HowIdotiemyselfinknots,Ireflectedsadly. RidingdowntheroadtoMombasaIsawmyfirstwildelephants. Thereweretenofthem,aboutthreehundredyardsaway,gatheredclose togetherunderatree.Theywerequitestill.ThetreewasaBaobab,andits smoothfattrunkrosewellabovetheanimalsbeforenarrowingabruptlyand sproutingabroadfanofbranches.TheBaobabisalsocalledtheBottleTreeits youngleavesareusedforsoup,anditsfruitmakesadrink. Istoppedthebikeandwatchedtheelephantsinsilenceforalongtime,myheart burstingwithemotion,notquiteknowingwhyIwassoprofoundlyaffected. Althoughtheyweresomewayofftherewasnothingtoobstructmyview.Theland wassavannah,grassyandlightlywooded. Thesightofthoseelephantstouchedmewithayearningthatseemedtostretch backforever.IcouldevenbelievethatIwasseeingagainsomethingonce observedthrougharemoteancestraleye. Theelephantswerebrown,andIdidnotquestionthecolouratthetime.It seemedquiteright,itmatchedmyimageperfectly,andonlyafterwardsdidI rememberthatelephantsweregrey.Evidentlytheyhadsprayedthemselveswith dust.Theywerenuzzleduptoeachother,wonderfullysatisfyingshapes,smooth andsolid,superimposedinaclusterofcurvesallthemorealiveforbeingso utterlystill. ElephantsshelteredunderaBaobabtree,afamiliarsightonthisearthformillions ofyears,andoneIhadwaitedallmylifeandtravelledsofartosee. Africa.

Theroadwaseasy,withnotraffic.IcouldwatchthecountryasIwent.Isaw moregiraffe.Thenanabandonedpetrolstationapparentlyinhabited byatribeofbaboons.Istoppedagain,towatchthemthemothersnursingtheir babies,theolderchildrenplayingboisterously,thefatherspreservingtheirdignity. Theywereoblivioustome,couldn'tgiveadamn. Aren'ttheysupposedtobevicious?WhatwouldIdoiftheyrushedme? Theroaddroppedtosealevel.Cloudsformedoverhead,andIbroughtthefirst rainoftheseasontoMombasa,afewfatdropsinthedust. IstoppedinthemiddleoftownandanopenMiniwithatasselledcanvastopdrew upbesideme.ThedriverwasaDanecalledKaj,teachingatthepolytechnic.We wenttotheCastleHotelforlunch,asevencourseblowoutforfourteenshillings withenoughhorsd'oeuvrestochoosefromtomaketheothersixcourses redundant.AfterwardsIgotacheaproomatJimmy's.Everyonewassayinghow hotitwasbutIdidn'tfeelitforthefirsttwodays.Thenitgotverysticky. KajtookmetotheSunshineClubonKilindiniStreet.ThemomentIstepped insidemysensesbegantotingle,andIknewwhyIneverwenttonightclubs.It hadwhatclubsinLondonandNewYorkcanneverhave,howevermuchthey spendtryingtosimulateit,becauseit'sillegal.TheSunshinehadLife.Lusty, licentious,disgusting,decadentlife.Itwasabig,untidyplacefullofpeopleand happynoise.Therewasabandstandandabandgoingfullblastbehindasoul singer.Therewasafloorandtablesandalongpolishedbar,allunderahigh roof,andattheendoftheroomtherewasmorestuffgoingonthatyoucouldn't quitesee.Theplacehaddepthandintrigue,andahintofdanger. Thereweresailorsandtouristsandhustlersandbargirls.ForallIknewthere werearmsdealers,ivorypoachers,currencyswindlers,slavetraders,Cuban militaryadvisersandagentsoftheIMF.Therewereevenmenwhojustcamefor abeer. ThebargirlsdidnotevenpretendtoservebeerattheSunshine,theyhadwaiters todothat.Thegirlsswannedaboutinoutrageouswigsandlongslitgownsof silverlame,orfishnettightsorwhateverotherglamorousjunkcametheirway, drummingupinterestandheatingtheatmosphere.Kajknewmostofthem.He livedintheSunshineClubthewayToulouseLautreclivedintheMoulinRouge, andthecomparisonwasnottoofarfetched.Whenthegirlshadnopressing business,theywouldgobackwithhimforpleasure.Hesaidthegirlshadfun there.TheycamefromNairobiorsomewhereroundthere,leavingtheirkidswith theotherwives,andspentafewmonthsinMombasahavingagoodtimeand makingsomemoneytosendhome.Nobodywasinterestedintellingthemitwas wicked,andtheydidnotlookasthoughtheythoughtitwaseither.Theyhadtheir bloodtesteveryweek,andgottheirgreenhealthcardsstamped.AsfarasIcould tell,theywerefreeagentsandnobodyhadthebiteintothem,butIcouldn'tbe sure,andanywayitwasobviouslygoingtochangeandgetnastier. AbigGermantravelagencyhadalreadydiscovered'SunandSex'inMombasa. WithrevoltingTeutoniclogicitwasrunningapackagetourfor'bachelors'witha hotelonthebeachandablackgirlthrownin.Therewasbiggermoneyinit,and thegirlswent,buttheyhatedit.Theyhatedlosingtheirfreedomtothosecreepy bachelors. 'AndifIgivethatmanadose,that'smypleasureandhejustgettin'whathe's payin'for,isn'tit!'

Mombasaisagreattradingportonabeautifulcoast,andseemedtheidealof whatatropicalcityshouldbe.Sinceancienttimes,Arab,IndianandAfrican worldshadmixedhere.ThePortuguesecalleditMombacaandplanteda massivefort,andlatertheEnglishprovidedorderandaminimumofamenities. Ithadagenuinecosmopolitanlifeandyoucouldfinditinthefaces,thefood,the music,thebuildingsandthestores.ItwasfarlessinfectedthanNairobibythe trashyimagesofinternationalbusiness,creditcardculture,banker'sbaloney, ersatz ethnic,Hiltonhybrid,andtherestofthefungusthatspreadsfromthe airportstorotawaytheworld'scapitalcities.Theseatradekeptthespiritof Mombasaalive. Kajdrovemeroundtheportonenight,underthelights.AKikuyuguardina sentryboxsaid'Youcanpass'.Wedroveforamileamongtheshedsand sidings,weavingamongpilesofcopperingotsfromZaire,drumsofoilfrom Kuwait,sacksandcratesandlonglinesofYugoslavtrucksandtrailers.Brilliantly litfreightersbristledwithderricks,unloadingunderfloodlights.Alocomotivewith onevastCyclopeaneyepursuedusforawhile. LaterwewentalongthecoasttoFortJesusandwalkedarounditinthe moonlight.Itloomedaboveus,toomassivetocomprehend,hugeandblackand cruel,staringoutintotheIndianOcean,andfourhundredyearswerewipedaway withouttrace. Goinghomethatnight,underthestreetlamps,anAfricanboywithabright, appealingfacecameuptome,draggingatwistedleg. Tamnotaskingforhelp,'hesaid.Tmerelywanttofindakindheartedpersonto appreciatemyproblem.IhavecertificatesinMaths,Geography,History,English, Woodwork,andIhavetolookforhelpwhereIcan.IbelieveGodwilllookafter me.Youcannotunderstandnow,butonedaywhenyouareintroubleyouwill see.Donotoffermeacigarette.HowcanIwantacigarettewhenIamstarving? EventhoughIhavenotacentinmypocketIwillnotaskformoney,onlysome food.ButifIhadmyfaretogobacktomyshambaIwouldnotbeforcedtolook hereforhelp.FourshillingsandfiftyisallIneed.' Iappreciatedhistalentmorethanhisproblemandgavehimashilling. 'Nowgivemeacigarette,'hesaid. Idid,andhelitit,andlimpedawaysmoking.Afewyardsdowntheroadhisleg becamemiraculouslyuntwisted,andhebegantodance. ThecoastofKenyaisirresistible.IrodeuptoMalindi,andhoppedonasmall planetoLamu.ThereImetthefirstmotorbiketravellerwhohadgoneanything likethedistanceImeanttocover.Meetinghimwasintenselyinterestingtome. HewasayoungNewZealanderfromHamilton,calledIanShaw.Infouryearshe hadmovedthroughSouthEastAsia,IndiaandAfrica,doingsomesixtythousand miles. Hehadhadonebadaccident.AhighspeedwobbleinThailandhadsenthim rollingahundredfeetonadirtroadandskinnedhim likeapotato'.AThaihospital hadstretchedhimoutandpouredsaltoverhim,thenwashedhim,puton mercurochromeandsenthimoff.HerodeasfastashecouldforMalaysiahoping togettomoretendercarebeforehesetrigid. HeshowednosignsofhisordealswhenImethim,norofthesleepingsickness hehadcaughtandalmostdiedofinBotswana.TheTanzanianpolicehad threatenedtoshoothim,amobhadchasedhimthroughthestreetsofKarachi,

buthewasaliveandthriving,thoughhethoughthemighthavepickedup bilharzia. NaturallyIwaswonderinghowmyexperiencewouldcomparewithhis.Ialways assumedthat,soonerorlater,somethingverypainfulwasboundtohappento me.Perhapsmyappetiteswouldbelessaggressivethanhis,though.And alreadyIthoughtIrecognizedhowmanyincidents,especiallythoseinvolving 'hostilenatives',seemedtobebroughtonbythevictim'sbehaviour.Hisriding stylewascertainlymoreextrovertthanmine. Inotherrespectsweunderstoodeachotherreallywell.Iknewfromhiswayof describingplaces,peopleandeventsthatwehadbothlearnedandfeltsimilar truths.Wewerebothhavingarathercomfortabletimethereonthecoast,andwe metlikesoldiersonleavefromthetrenches.Whenwelefttorideoffagain,butin oppositedirections,hesaidwithhalfasigh:'Oh,well,backintoitagain.' Iknewhemeanttimetosweatoutthebeerandreplaceitwithwater,toshrinkhis stomachbacktoahandfulofmilletandmuttonsauce,toforgetaboutwashingfor awhileandgetbacktothebareessentials.Howgoodthatwillfeel,Ithought, oncethewithdrawalsymptomshavegoneandI'mcomfortableagainwiththe leastIneedtosurvive. IfixedonaSundaymorningtoleaveMombasa,topackmythingsandgo.When thatmorningcameIwasreluctant.Theweathercoincidedwithmymood.Itwas gloomyanduncertain.Anyexcusewouldhavedonetokeepmethereanother day,butnoneappearedandIdidnothavethewittoinventone. Thebikealsofeltoffbalance,asusuallyhappenedwhenmymoodwasunstable. Igotanimpressionofconfusion,asthoughthepowerwasnotbeingtransmitted cleanly,andmyearpickedupnoisesandvibrationsthatfedmydoubts.The responseswerefractionallylesspositive,thegearslessthancrisp,thehandling feltoff,andthewholethingseemedtorumblealonginadisconnectedfashion, insteadofbeingthetightlyintegratedmachineIwasusedto. Iwasunwillingtobelievethatallthisproceededfrommyownmind,andItriedto diagnosefaults.Icheckedthetiming,theplugs,lookingforlossofpower, speculatingwhetherajetwascloggedorwhetherthehumiditywasaffectingthe mixture.Ilookedatthewheelalignmentandseveraltimessnatchedaglanceat myreartyre,convincedthatitmustbeflat. Therewasnothingwrongandnoneofmyspeculationsmadesense,butmy anxietyonlyincreased.TheroadwaswetfromarecentshowerandImovedover itgingerly,expectingtoslideatanymoment.Thereisaferrycrossingsouthof Mombasa,andIapproachedthesteeplyslopingrampofwetplankswithsuch nervousnessthatitalmostledtoafall. TheroadsouthwasagoodoneandgavemenoreasonforconcernbutI watcheditasthoughitwereavenomoussnake,andfeltpresentimentsof disastergrowinginme.Thecloudthickenedahead.Withinminutesitgrewblack aspitch,andthunderedominously,andIseemedtobeheadingfortheheartof thestorm.Ifeltimprisonedbytheroute,asthoughitwereaonewaytunnelandI wasdoomedtogodownit,comewhatmay. Wavesoffoetidairsweptacrosstheroadfromtheforestwhichhadbeennewly drenched.ItwasthefirsttimeIhadsmelledthatcharacteristicwarmodourof rottingvegetationwhichpreviouslyIhadknownonlyinthehothousesof botanicalgardens.ItrousedmeandremindedmeofthewonderandexcitementI usedtofeelasaboyamongthosestrangelushplantsfromthetropics,andI

realizedwithashockthatIwassinkingsodeepintomystateofalarmastoforget howfortunateIwastobeexperiencingthesewondersformyself. So,forawhile,Irescuedmyselffrommydespondency.Atthatsamemomentthe roadveeredabruptlyofftothewestandtookmesafelyroundthestorm,andthe bikeseemedtorunmuchbetter.IcouldhardlyresisttheoddfeelingthatIhad beenrewardedbysomeinvisibletrainer,nudgingandcajolingmewithlumpsof sugarandatouchofthewhip. Isetmyselftolookforthesourcesofmyanxiety.WhatwasIafraidof? WasIafraidofhavinganaccident?Itfeltlikethat.IfeltasthoughIexpectedto falloffatanymoment.Butwhy?Theroadwasgood.Therewasnotraffic.The bikewasfunctioningperfectlywell,forallmyimaginings.Wasitthewetsurface? Howcoulditbe?Mytyreswerebrandnew, andgrippingtheroadfine.InLibyaIhadriddenhundredsofmilesthrough rainstormsatmuchgreaterspeedswithoutaqualm.AndIhadneverfallenoffin therainyet.Whatwasitthen?Comeon,dig!WasitthestoriesthatIanShaw hadtoldme?Hadtheyunnervedmeinsomeway?Surelynot.Ihadalways imaginedthataccidentswouldhappen.Ihadimaginedfarmoregruesome accidentsthananyhehaddescribed.Ifanything,hisexamplewasreassuring. Well,whatabouthisnastymomentwiththeTanzanianpolice?Theborderwas onlyafewmilesawaynow.Whataboutthat? Foramomentthatlookedlikely.Ialwaysapproachedborderswithgreatcaution. Theywerepotentiallydangerous.Toomuchpowerinafewhands.Toomuch greed.Toolittlecontrol.Iwasalwayswaryofuniforms.Andyet,Ihadneverlet theprospectofaborderfrightenmebefore.Ihadcrossedfivebordersalreadyin Africa,twiceinquiteunpredictablecircumstances,andeachtimeIwaspleasantly surprised.Mysystemclearlyworked.Iarrivedearly,readyforanythingandquite willingtospendthedaythereifnecessary.Iwasalwaysreceivedwithcuriosity andgoodhumour.Whyshouldthisborderbeanydifferent?Andevenifitwas...I shrugged.Thatwasnotwhatwasbotheringme.Ifeltsureofit. Wellthen,what?Itriedtopretendthatitwasnothing,justapassingfancytobe dismissed,butIknewthatwasuntrue.AndIwantedtofindout.Itbegantoseem passionatelyimportanttorootthisthingout.Therewasanamelessdreadinme, andnowwasthetimetoputanametoit. WhenhadIlastfeltlikethis?TomysurpriseIrealizedthatithadbeenquite recent,duringthesecondweekinNairobi,onlytendaysbefore.Whathadthat beenabout?Icouldthinkofnothing,exceptpossiblytheprospectofdeparture. ButIhadactuallyleftNairobiinexcellenthumour.TherewasnothingIcouldpinit downto. WhenelsehadIfeltlikethis? ImmediatelymymindflewtothemomentatMersaMatruhwhenIhadcome acrossthetaxidriverpickingupmywalletwhenIhadunaccountably,and shamefully,obeyedhiscommandandpassedby,pretendingIhadseennothing. Theincidentrankleddeepinme.Isquirmedasthoughtouchedbysomething foul.ThentheborderatLungaLungacameinsight,andforawhilemy speculationshadtocease. ThecrossingintoTanzaniaseemedadelicatematterinonlyonerespect,and thatconcernedthehostilitybetweentheBlackAfricanstatesandWhite Rhodesia.MozambiqueatthattimewasstillPortuguese,andBotswanawas observingaprofitableneutrality,butZambiawasintotalconfrontationwith

Rhodesia,supportedpowerfullybyTanzaniaandKenya.Theborderwith Rhodesiawasclosed,andIwouldhavetomakeacircuitviaBotswanatoget thereandeventuallytoSouthAfrica.Itwasnotatallclearinthosedayswhatthe TanzanianandKenyanattitudesweretotrafficinandoutofRhodesia.Officially theywouldbeboundtodisapprove,particularlyTanzaniawithitsheavilyMarxist orientedideologyandrigidadministration. WhatmadetravelinAfricasoremarkablewasthatoneneverknew,fromone weektoanotherorfromonefrontiertothenext,whatwasgoingon.Theonlyway tofindoutwastogoandsee.Iknewthatatrickleofpeoplehadpassedonthe sameroutegoingnorth,andIhadheardafewstoriesabouthoweasyordifficult itwas,butallIcoulddeducewasthatitwasworthtrying. ThecustomsofficerontheKenyasideraisedmysuspicionsbyquestioningmein detailaboutmyjourney,myplans,myviewsonKenyaandaboutthechangesin Britainsinceshehadlosthercolonies.Itwasalmostcertainlyjustharmless curiosity,butitfeltlikeapolitepoliticalscreening.Ididnothavetolie,butIwas fairlyeconomicalwiththetruthuntilheletmego. OntheothersideIwasreceivedbyaschoolmasterishfellowinalightworsted suitandspectacles.Iwasrelievedtofindthathewasonlyinterestedinmy money.Heaskedtoseemytravellers'cheques,whichhadtoberecordedona currencyform.Thenhesuggestedurgentlythathehimselfcouldchangethebits ofKenyancurrencyIhadleft. 'Therewillbenoneedtorecorditontheform,'hesaid,'fordoubtlessyouwillbe spendingitimmediately.' Obviouslyhewasplanningtochangethemoneyhimselfattheblackmarketrate andsinceitdidnotamounttomuchIlethimgetawaywithit,keepingonlyafew coins.Whilewedidourbusinessitbegantorainheavily.Istoodundertheeaves ofthehutlookingmournfullydowntheroadwhichhadchangedtodirt.The rainwaterlayonitinsheets.Itlookedslipperyanddifficult,likeredmud.Itstruck methatIhadcrossedintothemonsoonsnowandthatforseveralthousandmiles Imightberidingonwetsurfaces.Ihadnoideahowmuchofthatwouldbedirt, butIwastroubledbytheprospect.Ihadhadvirtuallynoexperienceofwetdirt anditwasnotagooddaytolearn. AlsoIwasoutofpetrol.ThepumpmarkedonmymapatLungaLungahadbeen closed.AsIwaited,wonderingwhattodo,twotallandexpensivelydressed AfricansontheirwaytoKenyasteppedoutofaMercedessaloon,andIdickered withthemforalitreortwoofpetroltogetmetoTanga. 'You'dbetterwaitandseeiftheyletusthroughfirst,'saidoneofthem.'Ifnotyou cantakethewholedamncar.'Buttheynegotiatedtheirpassage,andIgotmy litre,grudginglysparedatahighprice. Therouteswungbacktothecoastandranthroughalightredsandysoil,banked andditchedtochannelthefloodwater.Forsomewayback fromtheroad,thegroundwasdenudedbygoatsgrazing.Hutsthatchedwith coconutstoodamongthetreesandpalms,butveryfewpeoplewereout.ThoseI sawlookeddullandmorose.AlthoughIfoundthegoingbetterthanIexpected, thedampgreyskiesandthesullenpeoplethrewmebackintomyearlierheavy mood.Ipassedclosetoamanwalkingwithapangaswingingfrom hishand.He lookedmiserableandhostile.Thetwofootlongsteelblade,razorsharpallthe wayround,gavemeastart.Iimaginedthedamageoneviciousswingwiththat weaponcoulddo.Itcouldtakemyfootoff,Ithought.

Isawmyselfstrugglingwithfielddressings,ridingthebikewithonefoot.An imageflashedbeforemymindofawhitefacedmotorcyclistridinguptoa hospital,collapsingattheentrance.Thenursepullsoffhisboottofindonlyaraw stump.'We'llneverknowhowfarhecame,'saysthesurgeonattheoperating table.'Hediedwithoutregainingconsciousness.' That'sridiculous,Ithought.Thepangawouldhavetakenthebootofftoo. Then,onceagain,Idiscoveredwhatwasgoingon.Itseemedquiteincrediblethat IcouldberidingalongadirtroadinAfricaengrossedinthesemacabrefantasies. Whatonearthinspiredmetoinventthem?Anticipatingdifficultieswasonething, butspinninghorrorstoriestomakemyownfleshcreepwasterrible. ItdidnotoccurtometoaskmyselfwhetherIwasinsane.IknewIwasmoreor lessassaneasmostpeople,forIhaddecadesofexperiencetosupporttheview. Icouldgetalonginsociety,andmakealiving.Whatotherdefinitionofsanity couldtherebe? Clearlyitwasallpartofthesamestorythathadbeenunfoldingbeforethe anxietyofalifetimeslowlyrevealingitself. Ibegantoseethatalltheseparticularfears,offalling,ofmeetingwithviolent behaviour,ofwildlyimprobablyhazards,wereonlyexcusesforafearIcouldnot recognize.TheywerefalsemessengersIdecided,concealinganxietiesofaquite differentkind.Thesenoxiousvapoursarisingfromsomedeepwellofdoubtand despairwrithedandcurledintowhatevershapewasconvenienttohauntmeat myfeast.Iwasmakingiteasierforthembyofferingthemreadymadedisguises. IdecidedIwouldhavenomoreofit.Fromthenonletthemdotheirworst unaided.Iwouldnolongerlendthemthepropsofmyimagination. Somyrationalmindissueditstidyinstructionsandwascompletelyoverwhelmed bytheconsequences.Fearsimplyroaredupandengulfedmeinawaking nightmare,allpretencethrownaside,shroudingmeinaclammygreyterrorto whichIcouldputnonameororigin. Itsubsidedsoonafter,andleftmeinpeacefortherestoftheday,andIfeltsome satisfactionathavingatleastflushedtheenemyout.Iwasveryexcitedbyallthis mentalturmoil.Itseemedcleartomethatmyjourney,theentireconceptofit, wascloselyrelatedtomystruggleswithfear.Ihadlaunchedmyselfonajourney tocircletheglobe,butIseemedtobeonanotherjourney,aswell,agreatvoyage ofdiscoveryintomyownsubconscious.AndItrembledalittleatthethoughtof whatmonstersImightencounterthere. Thecloudliftedanddispersed,andtheroadcamebacktotheseaatTanga.The differencebetweenthetworegimesbecameimmediatelyapparent.Thetownhad beenspaciouslylaidoutincolonialdaysandwasphysicallyunchanged.There wasnoneofthebustleandenterpriseofMombasa.Littleadvertising,littletraffic, fewershops,fewergoods,aquietprovincialbackwaterindignifieddecline,at leasttomycasualeye. Isataloneinafineoldcafewherenothinghadhappenedforyears.Beautifully madefurnitureinwonderfulAfricanhardwoodsstoodandseasonedwhilethe proprietorgrewolderandmorelethargic,presidingoveranevermorelimited rangeoffoodanddrink.Iatesomesambusas,deepfriedtriangularpastrycases stuffedwithspicedvegetablewhicharetheAsianequivalentofahamburger. AfteracupofteaImovedon.Itseemedapitynottostay,butIhadbeenstilltoo longandneededtomakesomedistance.

FromTangatheroadwasonceagainagoodtarhighway,andstruckinlandto meetthemainhighwaybetweenNairobiandDaresSalaam.Thelandwasrichly green,withmountainsrisingtotherightofme,andgreatsisalplantationsall around. ThenItooktheturningsouthtowardsDarandMorogoro,andspedoverthe greenhillsandundertheovercastskyasfarasMwebwebytheWamiriver. Thereweretwostringsofhuts,oneeachsideoftheroad.Iwasattractedbyone onmyrightpaintedinajollycolourandcalledahotel.Somepleasantwomen sittingoutsideandsewingsmiledasIpassed,soIstoppedandaskedhowmuch abedwouldcost.Theysuggestedfiveshillingsandshowedmeareasonable portionofpartitionedhut.Ihungmymosquitonetandwalkeduptheroadto wherethetruckdriversate.Thestapledietwasposho,amashofcookedcorn, liketheItalianpolenta.Withitcameabitofchoppedmuttonandpepperysauce. Youcouldhaveaspoonifyouwanted.Thereweresambusasandstickysweet stuffandtea. Afternightfallthelowpoweredlampsandwicksusheredinthefamiliarmysteries oftheevening,castingshadowsfortheimaginationtofill.Iwatchedshinybrown fingersdippingintotheposhoandrisingtosharplyprofiledAfricanfaces,listened tothefluidchatterofAfricanvoicesbreakingeverynowandagainintosome quaintEnglishclich,andmusedovermymorning'sdiscoveries.IknewthatIhad neverknownamoreintenseperiodofmentalactivity.Therewassomething almost physicalaboutit,likeridingatigerinthemind.Iwassureitcouldonlybethe beginning. Thatnightmydreamswereinterruptedseveraltimesbyathreateningpresence.I wouldbeengagedinquiteinnocuousorcheerfulactivities,whenthisdominating figureroseuptooverwhelmmewithfearandhelplessness.Icouldnotrecognize it,butknewitwasmale.Darkhintsechoedthroughthetunnelofyearsfroma forgottenchildhood. ThenextdaythesenseoffearlingeredonlyforalittlewhileasIconsciouslytried topenetratetheidentityoftheattacker,butitwasfollowedbyasenseofunusual tranquillity.Ifelt,withoutquiteknowingwhy,thatIhadmadeasignificant advance.Therehadbeennovictory,thebattlewouldberesumedanothertime, butIthoughtIhadcaughtaglimpseoftheenemywithinandknewthatit belongednottothepresentorthefuturebuttomyownburiedpast.Ihadnot overcomeit,butinthatoneepisodeithadlostmuchofitspowertoovercome me. Thosewhofindromanceincommunications,whodelightsimplyintheideaof spanningvastdistances,mustdreamofthehighwayfromCairotoCapeTown.If andwhenitevercomesabout,itwillcertainlybeoneoftheworld'sgreat thoroughfares,tocomparewiththePanAmericanHighwayandtheBombay Istanbulroute.Theplanhasexistedforsometime.Irodeonsomeofitssections inSouthernEthiopiaIsawpartsofitunderconstructionbyIsraeliandEthiopian teamsnorthofNairobithebedwaslaidandinuse,thoughuntarred.Inthesouth theroadwasmuchmoreadvanced,butinbothhemispheresitwashopelessly compromisedbypoliticalupheavals. Formyself,themereideaofahighwayrunningthelengthofAfricasoonbecame tediousandwithoutintrinsicmerit.AbookwhichIhadfoundbychancein BenghaziandcarriedwithmethroughAfricahadsomerelevantthingstosay,

thoughitwaswrittenonadifferentcontinentinanearliercenturybyamanwho madeavirtueofstayinginthesameplace.Itwasacollectionoftheworksof HenryThoreau,includingthejournalhekeptwhenhelivedbyapondcalled Walden. Hewrote:'WeareingreathastetoconstructamagnetictelegraphfromMaineto TexasbutMaineandTexas,itmaybe,havenothingimportanttocommunicate.' IfThoreauwerealivetodayhewouldhavefullconfirmationofhisfears.Instant informationisinstantlyobsolete.Onlythemostbanalideascansuccessfully crossgreatdistancesatthespeedoflight.Andanythingthattravelsveryfarvery fastisscarcelyworthtransporting,especiallythetourist. ThehighwayfromDaresSalaamtoLivingstoneisfifteenhundredmileslong.It wasnotoriousin1973asa'hellrun',knownastheTanzamHighway.When RhodesiaandZambiaclosedtheirborder,itwastheonlynaturalroutefrom Zambiatothecoast.PrimarilyZambiahadtoexportcopperandimportfuel,and theTanzamHighwaywasputtomaximumuse.Unfortunatelyitwasnot,atthe outset,inverygoodcondition,beingonlypartiallytarred.Petroltankersraced downthehighwayatsuicidalspeeds.Maximumturnovermeantbigmoney. Reckless,halfasleep,drunkordruggeddrivershurtledoverthedirtandoften enoughhurtledoffitintotherocks,trees,gulliesandeachother. ThatwashowIimaginedthehighwaytobeatthetimeadirtroadinthe monsoonrains,churnedupbydriverswillingtoriskanythingforanextraload.In factwhenIdidreachittheroadwasbeingrebuiltaspartofaCanadianaid project.Ifanything,thatmadeitworse.Thesurfacewastemporaryanddreadful andtherewerefrequentdiversionsintothesurroundingcountryside,buttheHell Runtraffichadslowedtoacrawlandlostmuchofitsterror.Ifoundthegoing manageable,andbythetimeIgottoMorogoroIwasquiteatease. Outsidethebank,whereIhadchangedmoneyatasuffocatinglyslowpace,a Europeancameovertoadmirethemotorcycle.Ilikedhimimmediately,asIliked mostofthewhitemenwhohadchosentogoonlivinginAfricancountriesafter independence.HisnamewasCreati.HewasanItalianwhohadbeentaken prisonerduringthewarinthedesertshippedtoacampinEastAfricahehad takenuptheoptionofstayingafterthewar.Hewasamotorcyclemechanicand hadaworkshopinMorogoro.Moreastonishingstill,hehadrecentlyboughtthe entirestockofpartsfromtheTriumphagentinDaresSalaamwhohadbeen forcedoutofbusiness. Itwasaprovidentialmeeting,becauseaminoraccidenthadruinedmy speedometercable.Registeringmyspeedwashardlyimportant.Speedlimits,if theyexisted,werepurelynominal,andinanycaseIknewwhatspeedIwas runningatjustbythefeeloftheengine.ButIfounditdisconcertingtohaveno recordofdistance.Petrolstationswerefarapart,andthequalityofthefuelwas poor.Theoctanevalue,Iwastold,mightbeintheseventiesorevenless,andI neededbadlytoknowwhatmyconsumptionfigurewastoavoidrunningdryout inthebush.Creatihadonecable. 'Itwillcostyoufortyfiveshillings,'hewarned. Iagreedreadily.Itwascheapatthepriceanyway.Insuchcircumstancesone doesnotargueaboutshillings.WewentbacktohisshopandItoldhimwhereI hadcomefrom,andwhereIwasplanningtogo. 'Howaboutfortyshillings?'hesaid. 'Okay.Fine,'Isaid.

'I'lltellyouwhat,'hesaid,handingittome.'Givemethirtyshillings,'Idid.He droveashrewdbargain,thatCreati. AfterMorogoroIwaspreparedfortheroadtogetworseandworse.Insteadit improvedrapidlyand,asCreatihadpromised,itsoonturnedintoaspankingnew tarredhighway. Abovemetheskywasinaconstantturmoilofcloudsforming,condensing, collapsingtothegroundandreforming.Whenitwasnotrainingitwasgenerally overcast.Theairwasverywarmandmoist.Allaroundstretchedthelushgreen grassesandtreesofMikumiNationalPark.Irodeonawhileandcameacrossan elephant.Itstoodalittlewaybackfromtheroadandfacedme,arrestedintheact ofchewingatrunkloadofgrass.Thegrassstuckoutoneithersideofitsmouth behindthetrunklikeacat'swhiskers,givingitaratherundignifiedandlugubrious look.Westaredateachotherforawhile.ThenIgotthedefinitefeelingthatitwas fedupwithmeandplanningtodosomethingaboutit.Ikickedovertheengine androdeon. Furtheralongasmalltroopofzebrasalsostood,grazing,andagainIstopped.All stoodstillasstatues,headsturnedtofacemefromwhateverpositiontheyhad beenin.Theirsmall,roundearsstrainedupwardsandseemedtotremblewiththe efforttopickupanyslightestsignal.Theirmarkingswereimmaculate,asiffreshly paintedonwithimmensecare.Allwildanimalsgavethisimpressionofa sharpnessandclaritythatwasnewtome,andIbegantorememberzooanimals ashavinglostthisedgeandlookingfadedandgrubbybycomparison. Nothingeverenchantedmesomuchascomingacrosswildanimals.Ithought oftenhowhumansocietyhadimpoverisheditselfbydrivingthiselementoutofits life.InAfricaIbegantoseethehumanrace,sometimes,asacancerousgrowth sofaroutofequilibriumwithitshost,theearth,thatitwouldinevitablybringabout thedestructionofboth.Notanoriginalthought,butitcametomerepeatedly. Viewedinpassing,theundulatingcountryattractedmestrongly.Sofar,I reflected,IhadnotoncecampedoutintheAfricanbush,andIstoppedthebike toconsiderhowIwouldgoaboutit.Immediatelythecountrysidetookonaquite differentaspect.Thegrasswhichhadseemedsoenticingnowlookedlongand coarseandextremelywet.Mysmallonemantentwouldhavebeenlostinit. Evengettingtoitwasaproblem.Aditchtoosteeplycuttocrosswiththebikeran alongsidetheroad.Iwentonfortwentymileslookingforhigherground,ora clearing,andawayacross.ThenasmallsideroadappearedandIfolloweditto MikumiParkLodge.Thelodgewasapalatialhotelbuilttostripwealthier travellersthanIoftheirforeignexchange.Iskirmishedbrieflywithtemptationand surrenderedtothespecialoffseasonrate.Mystruggleswiththelonggrasscould beresumedanotherday. Therainyseasonnaturallykeptsightseersawayandtherewerefewvisitors:two Canadianengineersworkingonpowertransmissionlinesalongsidethehighway twoAmericanembassywivesontheirwaybacktoLusaka,andayoungIndian travelling,asallIndiansseemtodo,'onbusiness'. Thelandscapepushedouttofardistanthills,andbelowthelodgewasopen pastureandawaterholewhereanelephantstoodincontemplation.Muchofthe afternoonIspentontheterracewatchingandphotographingapartyofMarabou storksonahillockcloseby.Presumablytheywerehopingforkitchenscraps. Theyseemedboredandgrumpy,andcreakedaboutaimlesslyonarthriticlooking legs,occasionallyrufflingtheirseedyfeathers.Itriednottobemisledbyfancied

resemblancesbetweenanimalsandhumans,buttheMarabousdefeatedme. Withtheirwingsfoldedbehindthemlikethetailsofanancientdinnerdressand theirstoopingrheumaticgait,Icouldnothelpimaginingthemasagroupof elderlysoupstainedwaitershopingforemployment. TheengineerswereinformativeaboutTanzania.Thecountryhadelevenmillion peoplewholivedonaveryprimitivediet,mostlymaize,thoughtheysaidthere wasnostarvation.TherewasnoknownmineralwealthandTanzaniadepended entirelyonagriculture.Thegrossproductpercapitacametoabout$60,and someeffortswerebeingmadetointroducecooperativefarming.President Nyereretheybelievedtobescrupulouslyhonest,andthoughtherewassome tribalismingovernmentitwasnothingcomparedwithKenya. TheIndiancametositwithmelateratthedinnertable.Hewasayoung,intense fellowwithashockofblackhair.Ilistenedtohisstorywithfascination.Hehadleft Zanzibar,hesaid,aftertherevolution,whichhadbeenveryunfavourabletoAsian families.HisZanzibarpassportwascancelledwhenheleft,buthehadaBritish passportalso,andwithsomefriendshehopedtogettoEngland.Theytriedfirst togetupthroughtheSudanfromKenya,butwerestoppedatJubaandsent back.NexttheytriedUganda,butagainweresentbacktoKenya.Hethenwent totheBritishHighCommissioninKenya,presumablyknowingthatitwasa desperatethrow.Theytookthepassportand,hesays,toldhim,'Youwon'tbe seeingthatagain.'Hethoughttheyhadburnedit. Thathadbeenin1963.Hislife'sdreamnow,hetoldme,wastobuildaraftof mangrovewoodtwelvefeetwideandfortyfourfeetlong(hehadthedrawing) withwhichhesaidhewouldfloatonthecurrentsfrom theZanzibarcoastto Australia. Ileftthelodgenextmorningeagertoknowthecountrybetter.Thefirststretchof roadwasparticularlybeautiful.Theroadranbesidelowmountainsontheleft, andthencrossedthem.Forhalfanhourorso,theGreatRuahaRivertumbled pastme,swollenandredfromtherains.Tribesof baboonsappearedoccasionallyattheroadsideorontheascendingrockfaces, andthecountryitselfseemedalivewithitsconstantchangesofperspective,the riseandfallofthemountainsandthegushingstreams.Irodeonehundredand fiftymileswithoutseeingasingleperson.SometimesIglimpsedahutamongthe trees.OnceIstopped,thinkingthatsomehoworotherIoughttomakesome contactwithpeople,butthegeneralsilence,theovercastskyandthewetness sappedatmyresolution.Ifidgeteduneasilyattheroadside,feelinglikean intruder,watchingthesmallsettlementforsomesignoflife,andwhennone appearedIclimbedthankfullybackonmymachineandrodeaway. TherainheldoffandtherewasevenaburstofsunshineatmiddaywhenI reachedIringa.Iclimbeduptothetown,abusyjunctiononthedirectNairobito Lusakaroad.Withtrucksandbusescomingandgoingitseemedverylively,but onexaminationtherewasreallyverylittlethere:afewshopswiththebarest provisions,nobuildingsIcouldseeofanyinterest,nobodywhoseemedworth approaching.Iatetheinevitablesambusaswithakebabandacupoftea,andset offoncemore.Almostimmediatelycamethefirstrain,andIpackedmyselfinto myraingearwhichseemedtorestrictandseparatemeevenmorefromthe world. Thecountrysidebecameflatandunvarying.Afewsmallgroupsofhutsappeared attheroadsidefromtimetotime,eachlookingmoresoddenanddismalthanthe

last.NowandagaincameasquarebuiltshackaggressivelylabelledBottleShop. OnlyoncedidIstopatonehopingtofindsomelife,buttherewasnone.A counter.WarmAmericanfizzinbottlessooftenrecycledthattheglasswas opaque.Somecigarettes.Andamanwhosefacebetrayednotasparkoflifeor interest. Irodeon.Therainfellharderandlonger.Thecloudscamelowerandblacker.It becameevermoreimpossibletoimaginemakingcontactwithanyone.Without thesuntoeasemywayandbringasmiletoastranger'sfaceIfeltutterlycutoff fromthesedullandmiserablelookingpeople. MylasthopewasaplacecalledIgawa.Themapindicatedsomeprimitive accommodationbutIcouldfindnothing.Irodeupanddowntherowofhuts,and gaveup.WellafternightfallIarrivedinMbeyaattheborderandwentstraightto theEuropeanGuestHouse.TherewereFinnishagronomiststoprovidemewith moreinformationaboutmaizecropsandcooperativeschemes,andmoreIndians travelling'onbusiness'.Ihadriddenthreehundredandsixtyfivemilesfromone oasisofluxurytoanother.ThenextmorningIcrossedintoZambia. Tanzaniabecameimportanttomeafterwardsasmyfirstrealfailure.Inthree daysandnightsIhadcrossedanimportantcountryasbigasVenezuelaorthe StateofMaine,halfasbigagainasFrance.IhadlearnedlessaboutitthanI wouldhavepickedupfromanyhalfdecentnewspaperarticle,andwhatIhad learnedhadbeenbyhearsay.WhenIfinallyleftIwasastonishedtohaveto admitthatIhadnottalkedtoasingleAfricannationalthereexcepttopayrent andbuypetrol. InpartIblamedthehighway.Itwastoofast,toogood,andtookmetoofaraway fromtheslowmovingpeople.ButmostlyitwasbecauseIhadlettherainenter mysoul. Thefirsttenthousandmilesofthejourneyarecompletedhalfwaydowntheroad toBulawayofromVictoriaFalls.TheleastIcandoisstopandcontemplatethem foraslongasittakestosmokeacigarette. YesterdayIcameintoRhodesia,andIfeeloutofplace.Thereissomethingweird goingonhereandI'mtryingtogetitinfocus.ComingthroughKenya,Tanzania, ZambiaImetwhitemen,farmers,businesspeople,professionalswhohavelived theirlivesinAfrica.Mostwerecontenttoaccepttheinevitableandgoonworking underAfricanrule.ItwasobviousthatAfricacouldnotbelongtothemandnever did. SinceKibweziIhavebeenunabletomeetwithAfricansonlevelterms.Their economicandsocialconditionwastooprimitiveand,asIsaidbefore,theraingot intheway.Wearelikedifferentkindsoffishinthesamebowl,passingeach other,evenbumpingintoeachother,butunabletocommunicate.Ofcourse,Ican alwaysfindan'educated'Africantotalkto,buthedoesnottellmeanything becausetotalktomeatallhehastopretendtobewhite.Idon'tevenknowhow tobegintopretendtobeblack.That'showstupidIam. InZambiathereisathirdkindoffishswimminginthebowl.TheChinese.There areshoalsofthemalongsidetheTanzamHighway,buildinganewrailwaylineto thecoast.Theyareentirelydeliberateintheirapartness.WhenIstoppedto admiretheirworkandgoggleattheirsliteyes,Iwaswavedonbytheclenched fistsofamaninblueoverallsofadarkershadethananyoneelse's.Perhapshe wasthe'people'srepresentative'.

Ishouldlovetohaveseentheblueprintofthatrailway.Iamalmostsureitwas drawnonascrollwithbrushandink,andmostdelicatelyshaded.Theproportions ofthestoneviaductIsawthembuildinghadalightnessthatsuggestedsilk gownsandparasols,ratherthanheavygoodstrains.TheChinesebuilttheirown towns,didmuchoftheirownlabouring,broughtintheirownwomen.TheAfricans respectedthem,butfeltnowarmthtowardsthem.Coldfish. IfAfricahasneverbelongedtotheWhiteMan(andwillcertainlyneverbelongto theChinese),itisalsoobviousthatitdoesnotbelongtotheBlackManeither.He belongstoit.Normallyunreligiouspeoplewhohavebeenhereawhilesaythat AfricabelongstoGod.Theysaythatifyoujuststopandlistenforamomentthe truthappearsdirectly.Nodoubtthisisbecausepeoplearenotyetnumerous enoughtojamtheairwaves.Thereisstillroomforothermessagestocome through. NearLusaka,twothousandmilesonfromKibwezi,Irestedforafewdayswithan Englishfamilyonasmallfarm.Theywerepeoplewhoseliveswereconsciously andcompletelydevotedtotheserviceoftheChristianGod,andintheordinary wayIwouldhavefoundsuchcompanyuncomfortable.Intheeventitwasnot. Godenteredintotheirlife,andtheyspokeof'Him'ofteninmypresence,butit waslikehearingaboutanothermemberofthefamilywhomIhadnotmet,and nobodywassurprisedorupsetthatIdidn'tknowhim. Theirambitionwastoextend,asfaraspossible,theircapacitytoshelterpeople whoneededorwantedtostaythereawhile.Theywererebuildingahousethat hadburneddown,andpreparingacampsiteacrosstheriver.Thehousehold, withallitschildren,wasinachronicstateofdisorder,butthegroundswerewell kept.Theyhadalargeandgrowingnetworkoffriendsthroughouttheworld,and itseemedtomethattheywerereallyintentonstimulatingwhatwasgoodrather thanwhatwasholy.AtanyrateIcouldseenothingbutgoodcomingfromit. Theywerefrequentlythreatenedbyfinancialruin,but'He'alwayscametothe rescue.BlackRhodesianFreedomFighterswentonlethalrampagesfromtheir trainingcampdowntheroad,andthefarmwasarefugeforfrightenedlocal Africans,butnoharmcametothem.Theinefficienciesandshortagesand contradictorypoliciesofanewborncountrymadefarmingfrustratingandscarcely profitable,butforthemallthatwaspartof'His'designandtheytookpleasurein it. ToliveinblackAfricaatall(andNairobidoesn'tcount)youmustacceptavery basicexistence.MostofthecommonplaceluxuriesandcertaintiesoftheWestgo overboard.Ifyoucanshedyourmoresophisticatedhabits,youareso handsomelyrewardedbythenaturalpleasuresofAfrica(Iheardthisoften)thatit iseasytoseethehandofGodatwork.Forsome,AfricaisproofpositiveofGod's existence.AlthoughmyownGodremainsaselusiveasever,myexperience supportsthetheoryinapracticalway.Itisamistaketoworryhere.LetAfricado thework,andasolutionseemstofollowautomatically.Aproblemhereislikethat slipperyNorfolktownofDissasyouapproachitDisappears. IusedtoworryabouthowIwasgoingtogetfromZambiaintoRhodesia, consideringthattheyaremortalenemies.Noneed.Whatyoudoisthisyougoto LivingstoneontheZambezi,andspendanenchanteddaywanderingaroundthe VictoriaFalls,theoldlocomotivegraveyardandthenalongsidetheriver,watching thehippopotamus,listeningtotheliquidsoundsofthebottlebirdsand'The ShadowofYourSmile'comingfromthecassetteplayerinaredToyotapickup,

andtalkingtothisfishermanwhohascaughtseveralcatfishandbream,andis justpullingsomethingelseoutnow. 'Thisfish',wecallCroaker,'andtoproveit,ashepullsifoffthehookandsnaps itsspines,itcroaks. NextmorningyourideuptotheguardontheLivingstoneBridgejustincase,by chance,heshouldfeellikelettingyouacross,butheturnsyouawaygentlywith hisrifle,soyourideupriverforfiftymilesorsoandtaketheferrytoKazangulain Botswana.Theretheysellyouamandatoryinsurancepolicytocoveryouagainst collisionsonthesixmilestotheRhodesianborder.Andthereyougo. Isometimesthinkaboutthosetwoguardsstaringateachotherfrom oppositeendsoftheLivingstoneBridge,andwonderwhethertheyknoweach other'sChristiannames.TheyareundoubtedlybothChristians. TheweirdnessbeginsrightattheRhodesianborder.Firstthereisthisbrightnew galvanizedwirefence,allproperlyerectedandsecured,withnobitshangingoff orrustingaway.Then,ontheothersideofthefence,youseethatthereareno weeds.Nosuperfluousorinappropriategrowthswhatsoever.Thecementis smooth,thegravelsweptandfreeofgrass,andeverythinghasclearlydefined edges.Squaredoff,shipshapeandinabsoluteshiteorder. Igazeatthismodelofpropriety,thisexampleof'howitshouldbedone'likesome grubbykidonthestreetwithhisnosepressedtothesquire'swindow.Maybemy firstinklingofwhatit'sliketobeblack. 'Pullyourselftogether,man,'Isay.'Where'syourpassport.YourBritishpassport.' Ontheothersideofthefence,havingenteredthesquire'smansion,isthisoffice, allspickandspan,butwhathitsyousmackintheretina,whatmakesyouwantto shieldyoureyeslesttheymeltintheirsockets,arethesetwoWhiteMen.Man, aretheyWhite!Theyaredazzling,likeangelsorsomething.AndtheyareWhite inWhite.TheyhavelittleWhitesocks,andelasticatedWhiteshorts,perfectlycut tothoseplumpWhitethighsandtightWhitetunics.Iswear,onceIappreciatethat theyarerealandalive,Idon'tseepeople.Iseeflesh,andIknowit'sWhiteright through,likeporkorchicken,doneupinfrillyWhitewrappingsthewayitcomes readycookedfromthedelicatessen. Well,oneoftheseamazingbeingshasgotagunthatheiscarryingagainsthis chest,withthebarrelpointingstraightuppasthisnose.Idon'tknowwhathe'sgot inthisgun,butitcouldbefulltothebrimwithinstantatombombpowderor something,becauseheisclutchingitwithbothhandsandwalkingoneggsas thoughavariationofonedegreefromtheverticalcouldblowusalltoZimbabwe. Hehasaprissyprepschoolfacethat'ssaying'Lookatme,Daddy'and'God, don'tletmemessmypants'simultaneously,andheproceeds,transfixed,behind thecounterandthroughadoorwaylikeoneofthosetoyfiguresonanold clocktower. Thentheotherbeingturnshispofacetomeandsays: 'CanIhelpyou,Sir,'inafunnystrainedvoice. Myeyesaregrowingaccustomedtotheglare,soIfaceuptohimquitewelland offerhimmypapers. 'DoyouhaveRhodesianThirdPartyInsurance,Mr.Simon?'heasks,knowing bloodywellIdon't. 'No,'Isay.'CanIgetitatVicFalls?' 'Troubleis,theroadfromheretoVicFallsisbad.Ifyouhadanaccidentyou mightnothavealegtostandon.'Thereisnohorselaugh,afterthisuproarious

remark.PerhapstheRhodesiansenseofhumourisunconscious.Evenwhileall thisisgoingon,asImarvelatit,IamawarethatbutforthejourneyIhavejust madeitwouldseemperfectlynormal.Thisishowawhiteimmigrationofficeought toberun,givenalittleextraspitandpolishforthecurrentemergency.ObviouslyI havebeencolouredbyAfricawithoutrealizingit,andIseethatallthosewhite peopleIhavebeenmeetingrecently,whiletheyarenotreallyAfrican,havelost theedgeoftheirwhiteness,andblendmoreorlessintotheracialspectrum. ThisiswhatWhitereallymeans.TheexperiencecontinuesintoVictoriaFalls. Thebutchersellsmeadeliciousfilletsteakforaderisorypriceandsays: 'Surelyyoumustbelieve,asIdo,thatwearethevictimsofaworldwide Communistconspiracy.' Whatwehavehere,Isee,isaWhiteTribe.Whataretheircustoms?Rigid adherencetothestandardsofBritainbeforetheFall.Efficiency,cleanliness, husbandry,probonopublico,monogamyandcricket.LiketheTurkana,they believethataslongastheysticktotheircustomsandritualstheymustprevail. Thereisnoalternative.Icaneasilyimagineablackanthropologistvisiting Rhodesiatenyearsagoandwriting: 'Arrogantandsuperiorasthecountryhecomesfrom,sohewillremain,inmy opinion,totheendoftime.' Timeisrunningouteverywhere,butitisnotonlypressurefromoutsidethat threatensthisculture.Awomanyesterdayaskedme,withasatisfiedsmirkonher prettyface,whetherIknewthatRhodesiahadthehighestdivorcerateinthe world.Adultery,theEnemyWithin. AsIfinishmycigaretteafigureiswalkinginmydirection,ontheothersideofthe road,anAfricanwearingaclothhatandawhitecoatlikeatentbuttonedatthe neck.Thecountrystretchesforeverallaround,open,emptyplain,asitwas throughTanzaniaandZambia.Twothousandmilesofemptyland.Iwouldnot havebelievedtherewassomuchspaceleftintheworld.Theroadisasphalt,and veryhot.TheAfricanisbarefoot. 'Whereareyouwalkingto?'Iaskhim.TamgoingtoBulawayotolookforwork.' HeasksmewhereIhavecomefrom,andsays:'Ohmygoodness!Youarevery cleverSir.' Bulawayoisahundredmilesaway.WhenIthinkofwalkingbarefoottoBulawayo myownachievementseemslessspectacular. FromBulawayotoSalisburytheimpressionpersists.Thefarmsarebeautifully managed.Thecitiesrunlikeclockwork.'Wewillnotletgo.Africanrulewouldbea disaster.Theywouldmassacreeachotherinnotime.Everythingwouldbein ruins.Anywayit'stoolatenow.Whowouldbuyourproperty?Wewillstickitout. We'llwinthroughintheend. Someonewillcometoouraid.Britain.SouthAfrica.Someone.Theycan'tletus down.' FromUmtalitoMelsetteraroadrunsthroughthemountainsalongthe Mozambiqueborder,famousforitsbeauty.HalfwayalongistheBlackMountain Inn,knownthroughoutSouthernAfrica.Ithasrecentlychangedhands.Thenew owner,VandenBergh,isaDutchmanwhoworkedinIndonesiaandhasretired frombusiness.Heandhiswifearetakingachancecominghere,buttheywanted achangeoflife. 'You'dneverbelievethebigotryroundhere.Notinthetownssomuch,butinthe fringeruraldistrictsandamongtheAfrikaaners.There'safarmertheycall"Baas

M'Sorry".HebringshislabourinfromMalawiundercontractalotofthemdo. Whenhisnewbatcharrives,heputseachoneinajutesackandweighshim. Thenhearrangesthefeedaccordingtotheirweight.Likecattle. 'Hewearsthosebigsnakeboots,youknow,kneehighleatherboots,because therearesnakesinthefields.IfhecomesacrossacheekyMundtthat'saKaffir whoanswersbackhestepsonhisfootandgrindswiththeheelofhisbootuntil thefellowsays"BaasM'Sorry". 'Youknowthere'salawnowthatblacksaresupposedtobecalledAfrican GentlemenandAfricanLadies."AfricanLadies",saysthisfeller."There'snosuch thing.JustKaffirbitches."' VandenBergh'sstoriescomepouringoutlikeavaudevilleroutine.Hehasn'tmet anyoneforawhilewhowouldunderstand. 'Whenwefirstarrivedwewenttogetmeatforusandtheservants."Oh,"they said,"forthemyouwantboy'smeat,"andtheyproducedthischoppedupbone andgristleandsinew.Itwascheaperthanmeatforthedog.Wethought"We can'tgivethemthat"soweboughtthemsteak.Afterawhiletherewasamutiny becauseweweren'tgivingthemthepropermeat.' Thingsareabitriskyaroundhere,especiallyatnight.Thereareraidsacrossthe border,bothways. 'Thepoliceareinhereeverynightgettingdrunk.Thearmy'sthesame.I'mafraid theRhodesianwhitesaretooflabby.Iftheyevercameupagainstareally motivatedblackarmy,wellthey'dgetrolledup.' Sowhat'sgoingtohappen? 'Theblackswillgetindependenceeventuallybutit'lltakeabouttenyears.' TheInnisalovelyplace,infarbettertastethananythingelseI'veseen,set amongflowersandlawns.TheVandenBerghsseemliketherightsortofpeople tohavetheretoo.It'ssadtothinkofthefatehangingoverthem.Ithinkhis forecastistoooptimistic.InChipinga,thenexttown,abusinessmancalled Hutchinson,whosayshisgrandfatherwasgovernoroftheCapeProvince,agrees withme. 'Mydateis1980hesays.'There'llbeAfricanGovernmentbythen.'His argumentsareconvincing.Heseemstobeintouch.WhatAfricansthink,Ihave noidea.IkeephopingthatchancewillthrowmeamongthemasitdidinKenya, butitdoesnothappen.Theyappearbeforemeonlyasservants,figures performingmenialfunctions.AllIhearisYesSir,NoSir,Threebagsfull,Sir. TheyinhabitsomeotherworldthatIcan'tgetinfocus.OnmywaybacktoFort VictoriaIstopatablackvillageontheTribalTrustTerritory.Thesitehassome magic.Therearehuge,smoothrockspiledoneachother,likesymbolsofpower andprotection,withshelteredpatchesofgroundamongthem.I'mnotveryfar fromZimbabweitself,andthereisakindofsorceryintheland,butallIseeare endlesslyoutstretchedhands,begging.Onedumpyladyrunsfranticallytofetch herbigcopperpotandbalancesitonherhead,inthehopeofgettingaposing fee,Isuppose.Herhasteissuchthatshegetsitonwrongandhastostandwith herheadcrookedtokeepitupthere.Theanxietyonherfaceiscomicaland leavesabadaftertaste.No,Lady,that'snotwhatIcamefor. FortVictoriaisRhodesia'stouristtrapforvisitingSouthAfricans.Itfunnelsthem rightintothecurioshops. 'GetyourselfsomethingUnique,somethingArty!!!'

BeitBridge,theSouthAfricanborder,isalong,dryridesouth.Onthewaya millionstorksmakeaswirling,toweringcolumninthesky,marshalling themselvesforthejourneytoEurope. TheSouthAfricanImmigrationandCustomsauthoritiescanaffordtobeagood dealfussierthantheRhodesians. 'DoyouhaveyourreturnticketoutofSouthAfrica,Mr.Simon?'saysthefirst official. 'Well,hardly.IwasbookedonashiptoRio,butthesailingwascancelled.' 'InthatcaseImusttellyouthatyouareclassifiedas^ProhibitedPerson.' Hegivesmealeafletandaform,andIseethatthereishopehereevenfor prohibitedpersons.AllIneedtodoismakeaninterestfreeloantotheSouth Africangovernmentof$600forthedurationofmystay.Thismoneycanbeused topurchaseanonredeemableticket,oritwillberefundedattheexitpoint.Ho hum.Isupposethey'regoodforthemoney,butIknowtherewillbe complications.LuckilyI'vegotthe$600. Nowforcustoms.Igetthisyoungfellow,fullofbounce.HeisevenWhiterthan White,butofcourseIamusedtoitnow.He'sgotontheusualwhitegymnastics outfit,butunlikealltheotherofficialswhohavesomemarkorrankontheir epaulettes,hedoesnotevenhaveepaulettes.Heissojuniorhehardlyeven exists,andhe'stryingtomakeupforit. Firsthepacksmeoffacrosstheroadtogetaroadsafetytoken, whateverthatmaybe.OnmywaybackIseethemallgatheredroundthebike. I'msoaccustomedtothesightthatIimaginetheyareadmiringit,aseverybody elsedoes. InsidetheofficeBillytheKidfixesmewithhisdullblueeyes. 'NowSir,haveyougotanymeat,plants,firearms,drugs,booksormagazines, cigarettesortobacco?' 'Yes,IhaveabookonChristianity.' 'Christianity?!!'Heisincredulous. Iaskifhe'sheardofit,buthe'stoobusythinkingabouthisnextmove. 'Haveyouanythingelsetodeclare?' 'No.' Hehasathinvoicethatshootsintoanupperregisteroncertainwords. 'ThenwhySir,'hepounces,heavily,'doyounotdeclarethesword?' Thesword?GoodGod,yes,thesword.IforgotIhadasword.It'snotmysword.I metamaninCairowhowantedtoemigratetoBrazil,buthewasnotallowedto, sohewastryingtogethisstuffoutofthecountryfirst.Hegaveme$2,000to sendtohisbrother,andthenaskedifIcouldcarryhisfather'sceremonialsword.I thoughtitwasagenialidea,andIattacheditontheoppositesidetotheumbrella. Inevergaveitathought. TheKidshowsmehiscollectionofconfiscatedarms.Heisveryproudofit, particularlyathreeinchdaggerhetookonlytheotherday.Butasword!That'sa realprize. Ishallhavetotakeitawayfromyou,Sir.I'mverysorry.' Hesoundsdelighted. 'I'mafraidyoucan't,'Isay.'Yousee,itisn'tmine.Anyway,itisn'tactuallya weapon.Itisafamilyheirloom.'Icannotletyoutakethissword,Iam sorry.' 'Well,howwillIgetitback?ObviouslyIcannotjustabandonit.Itdoesnotbelong tome.'

'Weshallseeifwecanwrapitandsenditundersealandatyourexpenseto Brazil.' Icantellhe'simprovisingnow.Thegroundisslippingawayunderhisfeet. 'Whycan'tIcollectitatcustomsinCapeTown?' Heislookingveryconfused.Hisneighbouratthenextdeskwhohasabroadgold bandonhisshoulderandseemstobekeepinganeyeonhim,leansovertohim andsayssoftly: 'Whydon'tyougoandaskyourfather?' Daddy,ofcourse,istheboss.('Achplease,Daddy,letmegotoCustoms,and confiscatemylifeawaylikeyou?') Apartycollectsinhisofficetoinspecttheweaponwithenthusiasm.Daddydraws itfromthescabbardandmakesafewexperimentalstrokes. 'HowcanwestopthenativeshavingthemifweletyouinwiththissaysNumber Two. Doesheimaginethe'natives'engaginginknightlycombat,cut,thrust,parry, accordingtotherulesofchivalry?'Natives'don'tneedswords.Theyhave pangas,whichtheyusetocutcane,andgrass,andifnecessary,throats.Ithink thesewhiteknightsaremad,butthisisnotthemomentperhapstosayso. NowDaddyhasanidea.'Son,seeifyoucansealitintothescabbard,andthen wrapitupwellsonoonecanseewhatitis.' TheKidishappy.He'sgothisorders,whichhecancarryouttotheletter,tothe veryseriph. 'ComeoverhereSir,please.Now,Sir,youseeIamgoingtowirethishilttothe scabbard,andsealit.Youseethereisanumberonthisleadseal.Ifthissealis brokenyougostraighttojail.' 'Whathappens,'Iask,'ifsomeoneshouldhappentostealitfromme.' 'Yougostraighttojail.Samethingifyouloseitorsellit.Straighttojail.NowSir,I amgoingtowrapthisswordupinbrownpaperwhichwillcarrythecustomsseal also,andIamboundtowarnyouthatifitistamperedwithinanyway...' 'Straighttojail,'wecryinunison. Hemanagesquitewellwiththepaper,butthesealingwaxistoomuch.Little dropsofitkeepfallingonhisplumpwhitethighsandhe'sdancingwithpainand frustration.Heisableatlasttogetsomewaxtosticktothepaper,butitis obvioustomethatthefirstrainstormwillsoakittoamash. 'Usually,'hesays,primly,'wegetthenativestodothissortofthing.NowImust askyouforadepositsothatwecanbesureyouwilldeclaretheswordinCape Town.' Butthisistoomuchforme,andIamgladtoseetheoldermanshakehishead, silentlyandrepeatedly. 'Allright,'saystheKid,asifitwerehisidea.'Youcango.' FromBeitBridgeitisonlythreehundredandfiftymilestoJohannesburg.I imaginethatIwillarrivetheretomorrownight,andsetofftogetasfarasIcan today.Aconsiderablerangeofmountains,theSoutpansberg,barstheway,and theroadclimbsupintoacoldcloud.Therearetunnelstopassthrough,andon theotherside,somerain.AtasmalltowncalledLouisTrichardtIdecidetostop andtreatmyselftoahotel,whichprovestobememorablebecauseofthedining room.Thisisalargesquareroom,withasmallerroominsideit,likenesting boxes.Thesmallerroomhasglasspanesforwallsandisthekitchen,andallthe cookingcanbewatchedfromthediningroom.InaLondonrestaurantthiscould

beaningeniousandevenattractiveidea,ifrathercourageous.HereinSouth Africaithasagruesomefeeling,becausethekitchenstaff,naturally,isblack.We, thediners,arewhite.Theownerpatrolsthediningroomina planter'ssafarioutfit,andoverseesbothpartsofhisbusinesssimultaneously.I watchthe'galleyslaves'withasickfascination.Theydonottalktoeachother,or showtheslightestexpressionofpleasure,fatigue,selfconsciousnessor,indeed, anyemotionatall.Thescene,tome,issohighlyabnormal,andtoeveryoneelse itissocompletelynormal,thatIfeelIhavewandered,bychance,intoalandas strangeasanyGulliverevervisited.Imakeaconsciousefforttoreservemy judgement.Thelogicofthearrangementisalltooobvious. Iam nowonlytwohundredandeightymilesfromJohannesburg,aneasyday's ride.Thesignificanceofthisday'sjourneyisgreat.SinceCairoIhavebeenriding withadamagedpiston.Itseemsscarcelypossiblethattheenginehasbeenable tosurvivethisfar.Notonlythedistance,morethanseventhousandmiles,butthe conditionsofheatandeffort,especiallyinthenorth,musthaveputthemachine toaveryseveretest.Now,oneday'sridefromhere,areallthefacilitiesIneedto overhaulthecylinders,rebore,putinnewpistons,anddoanythingelse.Upto now,atbestitwouldhavemeantshippingpartsfromEnglandwithgreatdelays andbureaucraticentanglements.Mostofthewayitwouldhavebeenimpossible. MyconfidenceintheTriumphhasgonebeyondsurpriseandgratitude.Inowrely onitwithoutquestion,anditseemspastallcoincidencethat,onthislastday,the unseenfateworkingitselfoutinthecylinderbarrelshouldmanifestitself.ItisnotI whoislookingforsignificanceintheseevents.Thesignificancedeclaresitself unaided. JustbeyondTrichardt,inthemorning,thepowersuddenlyfaltersandIhear, unmistakably,thesoundofloosemetaltinklingsomewherebutwhere?Although thepowerpicksupagain,Istoptolook.Thechainisveryloose.Couldithave beenskippingthesprockets?Itightenthechainanddriveon.Powerfailsrapidly andafteraboutfourmilestheenginesimplystopsinfirstgear.There'sastrong smellofburning.Isittheclutch?Itseemstohaveseized,becauseevenin neutralitwon'tmove. TwofriendlyAfrikaanersinthepostalservicestoptheircartosupervise,andtheir presenceirritatesmeandstopsmethinking.Iremovethechaincasetolookat theclutch,agoodhalfhour'swork.Nothingwrong,andthenmyfollyhitsme.I tightenedthechainandforgottoadjustthebrake.I'vebeenridingwiththerear brakeonforfourmiles,andtheshoeshaveseizedonthedrum.Apartfrom anythingelse,thatisnotthebestwaytotreatafailingengine. Iputeverythingtogetheragainandsetoff,buttheenginenoiseisnowvery unhealthy.Aloudmetallichammeringfromthecylinderbarrel.Apushrod?A valve?I'msonearJo'burg,thetemptationtostruggleonisgreat.AtPietersburgI stopatagarage.Theengineoilhasvanished. 'That'sabadnoisethere,hey!'saysthewhitemechanic,andcallshisforeman over. 'Soundslikepistonslap.Thepiston'sseized.' 'CanIgoonlikethat?' 'Aslongasit'snottoofar.You'llusealotofoil.' FromPietersburgtoNaboomspruitisthirtyfourmiles.Istopformoreoil,butthe bikewon'tevenstartagainproperly.IrealizeImustgiveupJo'burg.Itis4p.m. onThursday21February.IrealizethatwiththebikerunningwellIcouldstillhave

madethatoriginalsailingdateinCapeTown.Thethoughtgivessome satisfaction. IspendtwodaysatNaboomspruitworkingontheengine.OnthefirstdayItake thebarreloff.Theoldpistonhasshattereditsskirt.Thecrankcaseisfullof brokenmetal.Theconrodisscarred,thesumpfilterinpieces,thescavengepipe knockedoffcentre.Thesleeveofthebadcylinderiscorrugated.Ihavekeptthe oldpistonfromAlexandria,andputitbackthinkingitmightgetmeasfaras Jo'burg.Witheverythingwashedoutandreassembled,theengineruns,butnooil returnsfromthecrankcase.TheseconddayIspendonthelubricationsystem, pickingpiecesoutoftheoilpump.OnSunday,onmoresmuggledpetrol,Isetoff again,fortwentyblissfulmilesbeforeallhellbreaksloose.Theknockingand rattlingisnowreallyterrible.IdecidethatImusthaveanotherlook,andbythe roadsideItakethebarreloffagainanddosomemoreworkonthepistonandput itbackagain.BynowIamreallyadeptandittakesmefourhours.There'sa blackfellowsittingtherewithmemostofthetime,justhappytobethereand watchandhavelittlethingstodo.Hecomesoffafarmnearby,andIgotherefor waterjustasthey'reeatinglunch.FromthekitchenIcanseeintoasmall furnishedroombuiltseparatelyfromthehouse,whereayounggirliseating alone.Icatchsightofheronlyforamomentandseenothingdescribablywrong butitisobviousthatsheismad.Intuitionworkssofastinsomematters,whynot inothers? Myworkhasnotimprovedthings.Therumblingcontinuesandthetroubleis evidentlyinabearing.IlimpslowlytoNylstroom,andplantotakeatrainto Jo'burg,butNicktheGreekattheParkCafeisveryfriendlyandfindsafellow withapickup,willingtotakemetoPretoria,usingmypetrol. ThisfellowisanAfrikaansbutcher,butalthoughhesubscribestoApartheid,Ifind himunusuallytolerantandgoodtempered.Itturnsoutthatthreeyearsagohis wife,drivingthissameroadinavan,wasblownoffbywindandcrushedalmost todeath.Shehasnowrecoveredallbuttheuseofherleftlegwhichisstillbound up.Imeethertoo,acheerful,handsomewoman.Hisstoryofthosethreeyears, duringwhichhealsobuilthisownhouse,isverytouching.Itoccurstomethat thesepeoplewouldbegoodtohaveonone'ssideinadversity,andthenIwonder whethertheychooseadversityforthatveryreason.Isthatwhatismeantbythe 'laagermentality'?Ifso,thereislesshopeforSouthAfricathanIthought. HeputsmedownatMader'sHotelbecauseithasalargecarpark,suitablefor unloadingthebike.Mader'sisagreatcavernousplace,likearailwaystation,and intenselygloomy.I'mtenminutestoolatetoeat.Nodinner,nodrinksafter8p.m. Ihavetofetchfishandchipsfromashopandbringthemback.AsIsitinthe greenlightofamorbidaquariumIseeacouplesittingnearby.Heisgreyand shrivelled,hisfacemudcolouredbysunandalcohol,inaslovenlysafarijacket. Sheisfortyish,withblackframespectaclesandbiggishbreastspackedintoa sleevelessblouse.Thenthemanbeckonsmeover. 'Shelikesyou,'hesayswithoutpreamble,pointingather.Then,afterapause, 'Youcansleepwiththiswomantonight.'Iexcusemyself,lamely,buthewanders offapparentlyunconcerned. 'Hemakesmylifeatorment,'shesays.'He'smyhusbandbutheisstillinlove withhisfirstwife.' Thewordlovefallstothefloorlikeacigarettebutt,waitingtobetroddenon.

IwasinJo'burgforthreeweeks,andlivedinstyleandcomfort.Isawthesights, livedthelife,visitedtheblacktownship,andlearnedsomethingofthegoodand badsideofSouthAfrica.AsinNairobi,Ifoundthattheexperiencewasina differentcointotheexperiencesontheroad.Inthesebigcities,wheremost peopleconfront'real'life,strugglingformoneyandsecurity,Iwasnotabletofind muchthatwasneworfundamentallyinteresting.Iwashappyenoughtofallinto theeasywayofit,absorbingpleasuresandinformationlikeaspongeandgetting byonconventionaltruths.Allformsoflifearefascinating,but'TheJourney' seemedtofloatinanotherdimension. Joe'sMotorcyclesonMarketStreet,asagentsforMeriden,tooktheengineto piecesagainandsentmeoffwithareboredbarrel,twonewpistons,anewcon rod,mainbearings,valves,idlergear,andotherbitsandpieces.Thebroken metalhadpenetratedeverywhereandagainIwasstruckbytheforceofthe coincidencethatallthishavochadbeenwroughtvirtuallywithinsightof Johannesburg.Iwasverysusceptibleto'messages'andwonderedwhether someonewastryingtotellmesomething,like,forexample,'I'llgetyoutherebut don'tcountonit.' AgooddealofmytimeinJohannesburgwastakenupintryingtofindan alternativeseapassagetoBrazil.TheYomKippurWarstilldoggedmydestiny. Sincethewar,Arabshavingturnedfromopenwarfaretoeconomicaggression, oilwastwicetheprice,shippingwastotallydisoriented,andpassengerberths weresuddenlyunobtainable.Atlast,throughacontactinabigtradingconcern, oneshipcametolightthatcouldtakemetoRio.TheZoG,asmallcargovessel underGreekownership,wouldbesailingoutofMozambiqueforRiodeJaneiroat theendofApril.Itwouldcostmethesameastheairfare,butthebikewouldgo free.Iwasdelighted.Itcouldnothavesuitedmyideaoftransatlanticcrossing better.IhadtimetotraveltoCapeTown,andthentorideroundthesouthcoast ofAfricatoLourencoMarques,andaquitedifferentaspectofAfrica,a Portuguesecolony.Itisanillwarthatblowsnogood.Loadedwithaddressesof friendsoffriends,IleftonthelastlonglegtoCapeTownandtheSouthern Ocean. Theweatherplayedtagwithme,andIwasdodgingbetweenstormsandrain cloudsallthewayfromJohannesburg.OnthesecondmorningatKimberleyit lookedwetfromthemomentthesuncameup.Thelightwasthecolourof reflectionsinfloodwater,buttheskywasacleareggshellbluewhenIsetoffat eight.Althoughwispsofcloudbegantomarbleit,IthoughtIwouldprobablystay dryuntilnoon. ThesecalculationshavebecomesecondnaturetomesinceIenteredtheheavy rainssouthofMombasaandmyrecordofaccuracyisimprovingsteadily,tothe pointwheretheyofferasortofworkmanlikestructuretotheday.Istillneedthis reassurance,althoughitmakesnopracticaldifferencetomybehaviour.Iwould rideonwhetheritrainedornot,andonlythemostviolentshowerswouldstopme. Itisnotcold,thewaterproofsworkwellenough,andtheroadisgoodlevel asphalt,butIhavestillnottaughtmyselftoenjoytheprospectofrain.Whenever itthreatenstofall,avagueuneasinessbeginstosquirmsomewherebelowmy stomach.Nothingmuch,butenoughtoremindmethatthereisstillplentyof anxietywaitingforapretexttoengulfme. Myencounterswiththeweathercontinuetobelikereconstructionsofapersonal struggleonanepicscale.OnthebroadlandscapeofAfrica,underthebright

tropicalsun,abankofcumuluscloudappearsoutofthinairandgrowswith stealthyspeedintothesolidlikenessofdoomitself. Inanotherwiseclearskyoneofthesemonstersstraddlestheroadahead, growingatamileaminute,likeanairborneoctopusofmythicproportions,its basefillingwithinkyblackness,alreadyfeelingoutthegroundwithstray tentacles.Toleavethesunshineandrideunderneaththisdevouringcreaturewith itsfoetidbreathandbulgingcarcassislikechallengingtheDarkToweras impudentandterrifyingasthat.Toknowwiththeintellectofwhatflimsystuffthis thingisreallymadedoesnotdisarmit,whenyouhavealreadyfoughtto exhaustionwithevenflimsierdevilsofyourownmaking. Perhapstherearemenraisedinpeaceandlucidity,withnophantomsontheir tails,whoseenothinginastormcloudbutconvectioncurrents andwatervapour.InanycaseIwouldnotchangeplaceswithoneofthem.What grandeurthereisinmylifeblossomsoutofmyownmeanbeginnings.What timesofpeaceIknowareathousandtimesmorepreciousforbeinginterludes. Andthereismuchmore.Forexample,thefascinationwithwhichIwatchmyself comecloserandclosertomergewiththeworldaroundme,dippingfirstatoe, thenafoot,thenalimb.AlthoughIammadeofthesamestuffastheworld,it usedtoseemthatImightaswellhavebeenbornonanasteroid,soawkwardand unnaturalwasmyplaceintheschemeofthings.Iremembermyclumsyeffortsto simulate'normality',towinacceptancebyanyfalsepretence,andmydesperate betrayalsofmyownnaturetoavoiddetection.Thenthegradualdiscovery(born,I think,outofsomeirreduciblecore),thatothersweretwistingandcrackingunder thesamestrains,andthatbehindtheapparentconformityofdailylifewasaworld of'allthingscounter,original,spare,strange.' Thenbeganalongapprenticeship,tobecomesomethingcertaininmyownright, fromwhichtoseeandbeseen.Beyondthatcamethesearchforconnections, freelyofferedandaccepted,toconfirmthattheworldandI,afterall,weremade foreachother. Thereareinmetheseedsfromwhich,ifnecessary,theuniversecouldbe reconstructed.Inmesomewherethereisamatrixformankindandaholograph forthewholeworld.Nothingismoreimportantinmylifethantryingtodiscover thesesecrets. Now,withtheenginerunningbeautifully,IridealongtheedgeoftheOrangeFree StatetowardstheOrangeRiver.Mywaterproofsarecrammedawayconfidently inapannier,andmyflyingjacketisbeatingoffthecoolwind.Oneitherside, amongclumpsofmarshygrass,watergleamspaleaftertherainsofafewdays ago,whenpartsofthisroadwereeighteeninchesdeepunderfloods.This enormousplainIamcrossing,whichwilleventuallybecometheGreatKarroo,is supposedtobedryasabone,butthewholeoftheSouthernHemisphereis awashthisyear.Hereandtherearecattlesettledamongasurfeitofgreenery. RoundthemandoverthemhopCattleIbis,theslimwhitebirdswhichlivewiththe cattle,likeprivatenurses,gracefullyrelievingthemoftheirticks. TheskyisstillonlyfaintlystreakedwithcloudwhenIpassModderRiver,buton thehorizontomyrightarethebeginningsofasinisterchange.Hundredsofmiles awayacrossthemoorlandtheskyischangingcolourfromlightbluetogunmetal, asthoughavesselofdarkpigmenthasbeenprickedbythewesternpointofthe compassandisseepingoutintotheheavens.Surelyitisnotmerelyfancifulto

readapocalypticwarningsintotheskylikethis.Outontheveld,milesfromeven thenearesttree,thereisnoescapefromthemomentouseventsunfolding themselvesabove.Unknowntothishumanspeckmakinghissnail'strack acrossthefloorofavastarena,anotherspectacularhasbeenprepared. Pressuresandtemperatureshaveplummeted,windsveeredandstrengthened, andwhenthefirststaindarkensthewesternskythethingisalreadyallbut accomplished. Theclimaxissoquickandsubtleandonsuchvastscalethatmyeyecannot followit.Theskyislight,thendark,thencloudy,thenblack.Iamstillhopingfor anotherhalfhour'sgracewhenthefirstdropsfallsplatonmygoggles.Cursing,I pullupatthevergeandbegintheludicrousbusinessofputtingonmy waterproofs.ThenIaminit. TherainhardenstoanobliteratingdownpourasIcrosstheOrangeRiver,andI noticethattheriverreflectsabalefulorangelightfromitschargeofsuspended redsilt.ThenintoHopetown,slowingdowntolookforshelter,cursingagainas thegogglesmistoverwithoutthefastairstreamtoclearthem.Peeringthrough themistIseetwopetrolstations,oneoneachsideoftheroadand,astonishingly, tworivalsetsofAfricanattendantsgrinningmadlyandbeckoningmewith theatricalgesturestopatronizetheirpumps.Likethedonkeythatstarved betweentwobalesofhay,Igetseveraltimeswetterbeforedecidingtostickto thepartyonmyownsideoftheroad. Callingatapetrolstationisanevent,particularlyonamotorcyclewithaforeign numberplate.InSouthernAfricaeveryoneplaysthenumberplategame.Youcan tellinstantlywhereeachonecomesfrom CforCapeProvince,JforJo'burg, andsoon.MyplatebeginswithanX,amysteryallthedeeperbecausesome pumpattendantsbelongtotheXhosatribe. Peelingoffdamplayersofnylonandleather,unstrappingthetankbagtogetto thefillercap,fightingtogetatthemoneyundermywaterprooftrousers,shaped likeaclown's,chesthighwithelasticbraces,Iwaitfortheritualconversationto begin. 'Wheredoesthisplatecomefrom,Baas?'askstheman. 'FromEngland.' Asharpintakeofbreath,exhaledwithahowlofecstasy. 'FromEngland?Isit?Whatalongone!TheBaasiscomingonaboat?' 'No,'Ireplynonchalantly,knowingthelinesbyheart,relishingthemrather.'On this.Overland.' Anothergasp,followedbyoneoreventwowhoopsofjoy.Thefaceisaperfect showofincredulityandadmiration. 'Onthisone?No!Uh!Ican't!Youcomeonthisone?Oh!Itistoobig.' Thewonderofitproducesapleasingsenseofintimacybutitisillusory.Itleads nowhere.HeissafeinhisattitudeofadmirationwhileIconsenttoplaymyheroic role.ItisnotaroleinwhichIfeelcomfortable.Iamlearning,asImakemyway throughmyfirstcontinent,thatitisremarkablyeasytodothings,andmuchmore frighteningtocontemplatethem.Iamembarrassedbyexaggeratedrespect. Thisblackfellowinhisboilersuitpropsmeuponmypedestalandfeedsmeona WhiteMan'sdietofflatteryandindulgenceuntilIoozebenevolencelikea greenflytendedbyants.Africanwildlifeisfullofthesesymbioticrelationships, andthatmaybeonereasonwhyapartheidcanbeentertainedatallinSouth Africa.Asapracticalsystemithasitsadvantages,andnotjusttooneside,but

theunderlyingsuggestionthatitmakesaconvenientarrangementfortwo differentspeciestogetalongissuchatravestyofthehumanidealthatIwriggle withembarrassmentatbeingplacedinsuchafalseposition. Fromtheshelterofthepetrolstation,lookingalongthesoddenstreetsof Hopetownandintotheswirlinggreystormcloudsabove,thereseemsnohopeof sunshine.Inmymind'seyetheblanketofwetnessliesacrosstheKarroofrom endtoend,andnoeffortoftheimaginationcanraisesomuchasacornerofit. SooutIgoacrossthemudandpuddles,resignedtotheadvanceofmoisture throughthepinholesandseamsofthewaterproofs,pasttheleatherand sheepskinanddenim,throughthewornsolesofmyboots,saturatingtrouser pocketsandtheirforgottencontents,leavingamashofmatchheads,apulpof currency,turninghastilyscribblednotestoaninkywash. Yetonlyminutesfromthetownthegreybrightensfromleadtomercuryandalast flashandflurryofdropletsrecedesintorainbow,leavingatranquilbluevastness ahead.Onceagainthecosmicdramahasbeenstagedbothtochidemeand encourageme.Thelightandwarmthwaswaiting.Ihadonlytorideoutfaithfully tofindit.Somewherethesamechorusismurmuringthesameinexhaustible themeoflightanddark,hopeanddespairandrenewedhope,aworldwhere everyonecanbeahero,wherethereisanabsoluteguaranteeofrenewalwhich willonlyoncebebrokeninalifetime. Formethisisalandscapeandatimetobankupcourageinacravenheart,to carryagreaterfundofjoyintothenextcloudofsorrow,tolearneventolovethe sorrowforthepleasureitdivides,liketheblacknotesofakeyboard,orhunger betweenmeals.Perhapseventodiscoverthatpainandpleasure,sincethey cannotexistwithouteachother,arereallythesamething. Istripoffmywaterproofsandbundlethemaway,feelingagreat,heartpumping pleasureatbeingletlooseonthisshiningland.Thewindrushesthroughmy clothes,whippingawaythelastshredsofmistandmoisture,andIsingloudly aboutShenandoah'sDaughterandtheRioGrande. Strangethingspeeratmeacrossthecornandpasture.Tallsilverobjectson threelegswithmooning,fanshapedfaces,strainingforapuff ofwindtoagitatetheirrustybearings,totugtheirlongslenderrootsdanglinginto thegroundandsuckupmoisture.Poorsenselesscreaturesthatcan't comprehendtheabundance,thesuperfluityofwaterthathasdescendedall aroundthem.TheyremindmeofpeopleIhaveknownoftheoldnewsvendoron myhighstreetwhodiedathispitchleavingafortuneofthebigPoolswinners who'llbe'clockinginattheworksasusualonMonday'. Farawayoversoftlyundulatingmarshesacathedralrearsuptotheskyin splendidisolation,blanklyastonishedbyitslimitlessdiocese.Whereisthe bishop?Whoaretheflock?Itisanimmensegrainstore,withacentraltowerand foursilosflankingitoneitherside.Whataharvestfestivalwillbecelebratedhere fromthesestreamingfields.SouthAfricaanticipatestheheaviestcropsin memoryastheresultsoftheserains,andthereisnoendtothegoodfortuneof therulingNationalistPartyanditsAfrikaanerbackbone. Soonanelectionistobefoughtwell,teasedwouldbeabetterword.Thereisno contest.Thepriceofgoldhasneverbeenhigher.Terroristsonthebordersgive patriotismjustthenecessaryinjectionofthevitaljingoserum.Theelectionisa foregoneconclusion.InJo'burgdispiritedOppositionsupportersthrowuptheir handsandsaytheyaretiredoffightingGod.ThegraincathedralsoftheKarroo

proclaimhispresence.Sodotheastonishingyellowminedumpsrisingabove Johannesburg,monumentstogoldthefather,goldthesonandgoldtheholy ghost.Allisordained. IamgratefulforoneoftheWhiteGod'sordinances.Hehaskeptmostofthe trafficofftheroad.Theworldoilcrisis(morepowertoGod'selbow)hasbroughta nationwidespeedlimitoffiftymilesanhour.Itisenforcedwithdourefficiency. Khakicladpolicemeneverywhereleapalongthehedgerowsandroadsideditches uncoilingwiresfortheirspeedtraps.Thefinesforspeedingaredraconian, hundredsofpoundsinsomecases.Atweekendsallpetrolstationsareclosed, andwoebetidehimwhoiscaughtwithmorethantwosparegallons. Formefiftymilesanhourisaperfectspeed,thegoldenmeanbetweendawdling anddrummingvibration.AtthisexcellentrateIcanspinandtumblealongallday incomfort,andseewhereI'mgoing.Therearenowsomefivehundredmiles betweenmeandCapeTown.BynightfallIshouldbewellwithinaday'sride.Ifly pastStrydenburgandBritstownfeelinglikePegasusonwheels.Intheearly afternoonsomecloudmountsafewscatteredfortressesinthesky,butIamable torideunderthembeforetheycanreleasetheirleadencharges.Nowtheheatis buildingupandtheroadissteaming.Thesundrillingthroughthehazebeginsto poachmyeyesinaharddiffuselight,andIstopforafewminutestoleanforward onthehandlebarsanddoze,cocoonedinstill,warmairandthesongoftheblack, longtailedSacabulabirdsperchedlikecrochetsonthetelegraphwires. WhenIopenmyeyesIseethatthedayhasturnedtoafternoon,thelighthasa goldentouchtoit,andabigbankofcloudhasstretchedacrossmypathreflecting glimmersoflilacandpurpleatitsragged,rollingfringes.Thebarisrootedinthe westamongdistant,shadowyhillsinablackcormveinedwithlightning.Icansee underitandbeyondtothefirstpeaksoftherangesthatweaveacrossthe southerntipofAfrica,withtheirstrangeGothicnamesGrootswartberge, Witteberge,Outeniekwaberge,andahintofFrankensteinianmenace. ThinkingIcaneasilyrideunderthiscloudbarandoutagainbeforeitbreaks,I leaveVictoriaWestbehindandrushon.Then,justasIamabouttocongratulate myselfononemorestormavoided,theroadswingstothewestandIfindmyself stillunderthecloudandheadedtotheveryheartofit.StillgamblingIthink maybeitwillbreakanddispersebeforeIgettoit,andsoIpassBeaufortWestas wellandkeepgoing.Quiteunexpectedly,inlateafternoon,itbreaksontopofme, aroaringmassofrainandwindlacedwithlightning.Iseemtobeintheheartof thecumulus,andtheforcesareterrifying.Inchesofwaterriseimmediatelyonthe road.Ihavetostop,andshelterundertheumbrella.Thewindsnatchesitfrom me,andIrecoveritwithdifficulty.Lightningisexplodingeverywhere,andIam seriouslyconcernedaboutbeinghit.Riversofbrownwaterarealreadyracing downeithersideoftheroad,andforhalfanhourIhavetostandthereandwait forthecloudstoemptythemselves.Therainletsuponlyasthelastlightfails, andIcontinueinthedark,dampandanxioustostop.Thefirsttown,Laingsburg, seemstoliedownhillfromthehighwayonaseriesofdescendingterraces.Inthe darkness,andstillundertheinfluenceofthestormandthemountains,they remindmesomehowofaHieronymusBoschpainting.Thereissomethingbizarre goingondownthere.Iarrivetofindmyselfinaplagueoflocusts.Theairisthick withthem,crashingaboutinthefluorescentlight,awild,madscene.Theycrunch disgustinglyunderfootandonehitsmeintheeye,quitepainfully,beforeIcanget insidethehotel.

KimberleytoLaingsburgisfourhundredandsixtymiles.Thatleavesmewithonly onehundredandsixtymilestogotoCapeTown.Iliketoarriveearlyinbigcities, sothatIcangetafeelforthemandrelaxabitbeforeitgetsdark.AlsoIhave peopletofind,friendsoffriends.I'mupandawayjustafterdawn,planningto havebreakfastatTouwsRiverandfillupforthelastlap.WhenIgetthereithits me.IforgotitwasSaturday.Nopetrol.Ilastfilledupfiftymilesbefore Laingsburg.ThatleavesmejusttwolitresshortofwhatIneed. NooneatTouwsRivercanhelpthereishardlyanyonethere,anyway.Irideto Worcester,anotherfortyfivemiles,throughalovelyvalley plantedwithvineyards.Thelastrangeofmountainsispilingupaheadofmenow. There'satremendouscrosswindblowingtoo,andIhavetoleanrightintoitasI go,butit'ssteadyandnorealproblem.Icanfeeltheapproachofamilder climate,andaneasierlife.Morehouses,gardens,people.Worcesterhasavery nicesmallhotel.ItsnameistheArabwordforhotel,buttheownersdon'tknowit andseem unsurewhethertobelieveme.Theyareveryhelpfulthoughand,at last,wefindalegalwayoutofmypetrolproblem.Themannextdoorletsme taketwolitresoutofhislawnmower.Breakfastisagreatpleasure,and everythingisfeelingverygood.Iam lettingitcreepintomyconsciousmindnow thatverysoonImayactuallycometotheotherendofAfrica.Itisnotcertain.I don'tallowmyselfsuchexpectations.Manythingscanhappenineightymiles,but itisadistinctprobability. IhaveaveryconfusedimpressionofCapeTown.IimaginethatIamnowon TableMountain,andthatwhenIcometotheedgeIshalllookdownonthecity, butthevalleysoonnarrowsandIcometoapasscalledDuToit'sKloof.Onthe othersideIlookdownfromfivethousandfeettolandthatlooksfertileandbusy withfarms,vineyards,prosperoustowns,withtheoceanstillhiddenbythehaze.I freewheelformilesandmilestosavepetrolandfeelmyheartlighteningallthe way.SomehowIknowI'mgoingtomakeit,andthatCapeTownisgoingtobe wonderful.Itisarareandbeautifulfeeling,thatcertaintythatnothingcango wrong. ThegreatfreewayssweepmeonpastStellenboschandBellevilletowardsthe ocean,intothesuburbsofCapeTown,windingmedowneffortlesslyandwithout errorasthoughonanautomaticflightpathtotheheartoftheoldcityandsetting medowninthePlazabesidetheocean.MyjoyisalmosthystericalasIparkthe bike,walkslowlyoverthepavingtowardsacafetableandsitdown.Ihavejust riddenthatmotorcycle12,245milesfromLondon,andabsolutelynobodyhere, watchingme,knowsit.AsIthinkaboutitIhaveasuddenandquiteextraordinary flash,somethingIhaveneverhadbeforeandamneverabletorecaptureagain.I seethewholeofAfricainonesinglevision,asthoughilluminatedbylightning. Andthat'sit.I'vedoneit.I'matpeace. AmongbrightflowersandflightsofshimmeringblueandgreenbirdsIcameover thehighmountainsfromSwazilandanddowntoMozambiqueon28April.The ZoGwasduetosailon3May. TherewasthefriendofafriendinLourencoMarques,butIarrivedtoolatetofind him.InthetwilightIsearchedforthehotelthatacasualacquaintancehad suggested,enjoyingmyfirstexperienceofaPortuguesecolonialcity,andgetting lost.

FourkidsstoodidlyonthepavementoutsideabarandIaskedfortheCarlton Hotel.Theonewhoansweredmewasthenaturalleaderofthegroup,andabout sixteen.Heworeaveryshort,tightredsweaterandflaredtrousersthecolourof strawberryicecreamrunningdowntheinsideofadustbin. 'Himan,'hesaid,withanindefinablemixtureofstrangeaccents.'Howyadoin'? I'msuregladtomeetyou.Sureman.We'reallfriendshere.Wedon'tcareabout thecolourhere.I'mjustatschool.Sure.ButI'minthebarhere,fuckin'plentyof businesswomen.Plenty,sure.BusinesswomenfromMozambique.Sure.' Hisfacewassmoothandbrownunderawoollyblackfleece,andhisbreath smelledofwhisky.Hedidn'tstoptalking.Histhreecompanionsclungtohim silently,hopingtolearnthetrick.OnewasawhitePortuguesewithasensitive face,andtheotherswerewhispyinbetweenkids.Imentionedthenameofthe hotelagain. 'Ohyouwantaroomtosleep.Sure,Icanshowyou.Greatplace.AllSouth Africansgothere.Thatoneyoutalkin'aboutisshit,man.ThatallPortugueseshit, shoutingandnoise.Ishowyou.Icantakeyoualright.Maybefifty'scud,Idon't know.Itwas,threemonthsago.Wearesmokingtoo,man,youknow?Grass. Greengrass.YouknowwhatImean?' Wesetoffalongthestreets,darkanddeserted.Aswewalked,oneafteranother theyopenedtheirtrousersandsprayedthepavementsandthewallswithwide arcsofsilverpiss. AcrosstheRepublicaanduptwoblocks,weturnedintoadoorwayandupa greenandbrownstairwelltothefirstfloor.TwoAfricanssatinchairsfacingthe stairs,backstothewall,withatablebetweenthem.Thenearestonehadlarge holesinhisearlobes,buttheywereemptyandhewasdressedforbusiness.His skinwashardanddryandcloseporedlikeoldwalnut.Hewouldn'tspeakEnglish althoughheplainlyunderstoodit. Hispricewas120escudosforthenight.ForPortugueseitwasonly50,butfor SouthAfricansandlesserforeignersitwas120.Thatwasafixedprice,hesaid, thesameallover,andcouldnotbealteredinanycircumstances.ForthispriceI wouldgetoneoffourarmybedsinaninefootsquarecell.Eachonewas120 'scud,whichmeanthewaslookingfor12or$28anight,plusafreemealforhis insects.Theenormityofithadmelaughingallthewaydownthestairs.My whiskydrinking,grasssmoking,businesswomanfuckingschoolboyfriend seemedrathercrestfallen.Butheputonabraveshow.Hemaintainedthatall peoplesshouldbetreatedalike,andthateconomicdiscriminationbetweenraces wasagrossinjustice.Inconsequencehesaidhewasunabletopersuademeto accepttheprice. TheCarltonwhenIfounditwasjustwhatIwanted,abigoldfashionedhotelwith abustlingrestaurantintheLatinstyledownstairs.Thehandsomedoubleroomfor ninetyescudosseemedlikeagiftafterthepreviousoffer,butitwasstillalotof money. ThefollowingdayIresumedthesearchforthefriendofmyfriend,andfoundhim inhisshoeshop.HetookmeforlunchtotheClubedePesca,andwesatatthe barplayingdice,whilehisfishingcroniestoldfilthyjokesandstoriesaboutthe war.Everyonewastalkingaboutthewar.Itwasobviouslycomingtoacrisis. WhenIwasinSalisburyIhadhadafirsthandaccount,obviouslyauthentic,of thetruepositionoftheFrelimoIndependencemovementinMozambique,andit

wasclearthatFrelimoweremoreadvancedthananyoneinwhiteAfricabelieved. Itwouldhavetoendsoon,somehow. Themannexttomeatthebarstartedtellingmeaboutit,swearingboastfullyin PortugueseAfrikaansEnglish,whichisinitselfuglyenoughnottoneed emphasis. Iwasinitbladdythreeandahalfyears.That'sabladdylongtime.Itellyou,we werelosingmenallthebladdytime,man.Maybeonemana day.Well,there'sfourbladdylotslikeourfuckers,sothat'sfourbladdymena day,soinsevenbladdyyears,man,welostalotofbladdymen.' TherewerealreadyrumoursofcrisisinLisbonaboutthelossessustainedbythe PortugueseinAngolaandMozambique,andthewhitePortuguesecolonistswere nothappyeither.TheyweremilkedeconomicallybyPortugalandbelievedthat, giventheirownindependence,theycoulddoadealwithFrelimo. 'Thebladdyworstwas,wecouldn'tbladdyfightthefuckers.Theyhadbladdy grenadesandKalashnikovsandbazookasandbladdymortarsbehind,andthey wouldbladdykillsomeofourfuckersandthenbladdyrunaway. 'Wewerewalkingfortybladdymilesinadaylookingforthefuckers,butwhenwe findthemwecan'tshootthem,wegottobladdybringthemintoquestion.That's nobladdygood!' Asatisfiedgrincrossedhisfacethen,asheswallowedhisdrink. 'NottheNavymen,though.Theywerebladdygood.Theylandedandbladdyshot everything.Theydidn'tcareifitwasusorthebladdyenemy.Theykillanybody, youjustgetoutthebladdyway.' Icouldseehispoint.Ithoughtthatmaybe,afterthreeorfouryearsofbeingshot at,Imightwanttokilleverythinginsighttoo. Remarkablyenough,theverynextdaythearmyinPortugaloverthrewtheold dictatorship,andMozambiquebeganitsfirstrevolutionasthoughformybenefit. Therewerepassionatemeetingsinstreets,squaresandcafes.Veinsthrobbed andfistsclenchedasoratorsscreamedaboutindependence,liberty,autonomy, equalityandsoon.Itwasnoisybutpeaceful,alargelywhiteaffairofleafletsand polemics,andthecolonywasgivenselfgoverningstatus,butthewarwith Frelimocontinued. Mysailingdatewaspostponedfromdaytoday,astheZoGwaitedforaloading berth.IspenttimewithjournalistswhohadflowninfromLondon,butfelt remarkablyremotefromthemand,Iknow,lookedlikeafreaktothem.Other timesIspentinRajah'sSnackBar,asplendidIndianestablishmentwhereIwas receivedalmostasason,playedinnumerablegamesofchess,andconsumed unnumberedsambusas,mostofthemfree.Rajahhimselffeltnoneofthe euphoriaofthewhitepopulation.Heforesawgreattroubleandcouldnotquite decidewhetherornottocuthislossesandgo.ItwastheIndiansinMozambique, aselsewhereinAfrica,whosawapoliticalrealitythatfewothersrecognized,but theirswasasterileunderstanding,fortheyneverjoinedintheprocesseitherway butstoodonthesidelines,selfmadeoutcasts,consoledbytheirprofits. AnotherIndianIgottoknowalittlewastheshippingclerkinchargeofmanifests attheagent'soffice.HetookmetotheZoGthedaybeforeshewasduetosail. Firstwewalkedpastthestation,withitsbulbousbaroquecupola,blownupjust beyondthelimitsofdecencylikeanoverripefruit.Thewholethingwasapieceof pureLisbondroppedfromheavenontheshoresofAfrica.Facingitstoodaheroic stonemotherfigure,bearingPortugal'sburdenswithasorrowfulexpression.She

mighthavebeenwelcomingnewcomers.Morelikely,Ithought,shewaswishing shetoocouldcatchatrainandgetthehelloutofthere. Beyondthestationwerethedockgates,andthentheendlesssheds,androlling stockandheapsofeverythingunderthesun,includingrubbishandflies.TheZo G,whenIfirstsawher,dentedmymoraleseverely.Evidentlyshecouldfloat, becauseshewastiedupatthequaysideandwobblingastheyputathousand tonsofcopperaboardher,butitseemedunlikelythatshewouldfloatforlong beforetherustgavewaysomewheretothesea.Notaclearpaintedsurfaceora gleamofbrasscouldIdiscernanywhere. Underthenightloadinglightsagreatchasmgapedinherdeckamongthedebris. Initsdepths,blackstevedoresinkhakishortschantedandheavedamong sleepersizedbarsofmetal.Therewassomemagicdownthere,butinthesaloon wereonlysleazyseameninattitudesofdespair.Idumpedmybagsandfled. Nextday,AmadetheclerkandIreturnedbeforedark,andthingsdidnotlook quitesobad.Iwasshownacabin,the'owner'scabin',whichwasfarbetterthanI expected,andhadasmalldrawingroomattached,andaproperbathroom, dilapidatedbutveryacceptable.Initsbetterdaysthisship,onceDanish,would havebeenentirelysuitabletoAgathaChristie.Ithadhadaccommodationfor twelvepassengersandaminiaturegrandstaircasesweepingdowntoasaloon withengravedglassswingdoors.IfitwasnowmoreappropriatetoGraham Greenethatwas,inasense,alltothegood. IsatlaterintheCaptain'sofficeandtalkedtoAmadeaswewaited.TheCaptain, increamshirtandgreyflannelswithazipthatwouldn'tquiteclose,wastapping, outlettersonaprewarStandardtypewriterandfillinginforms.Amadehadnoted theloadingforfuelandwater,thedraughtforeandaft,theanticipatedmean draughtatFortalezaandtheexpectedtimeofarrival. 'WhereisFortaleza?'Iasked. 'InthenorthofBrazil,'hesaid.'Youwillcalltherefirst.' ItwasthefirstIhadheardofit,andanideaslowlyformedthatImightgetoff thereinstead. WewentontalkingaboutthefutureforMozambique. 'Therewillbetrouble,'saidAmade.'Youwillsee.Youwillhearaboutit.Therewill benoarrangementwithFrelimo.Therewillbebloodshed.' HewasatallPortugueseIndianwithaliquidcharmandawrysmilesuggesting alwaysthatbehindtheapparentrealitylayanaltogether differentrealitywhichpromisedlittlegood.Helistenedpolitelytomycounter arguments,buttheycarriednoweightanddidn'tconvincemeeither.The poignancywasoverwhelming. Twasfouryearsinthearmyfightingthewar,'hesaid.Tleftuniversitytogotothe army.WhenIfinishedfightingIgaveupstudy,therewasnotimeanymore.It wasnecessarytoputmyfeetontheground.NowIammarried.Ihavechildren. AmIgoingbacktothearmynow?Wecanfightthiswarforfour,eight,twelve, sixteenyears,butwewillhavetogiveitawayintheend.' Thepilotappearedinthedoorway,bearded,inaheavycoat.Hewasshroudedin darknessandmystery,aportentousfigure. 'Areyouready,Captain?' Theshiphadbeenshiveringgentlyforhours,asoft,almostinaudiblerustleinthe panelling,likethebreathofasleepingchild,flowingandebbing,flowingand ebbing.

AmadeuncrossedhislegsandsmiledencouraginglyatmeasthoughitwereI andnothewhowasfacingthemiserableuncertaintiesofAfrica.Weshookhands andhejumpedashorefromtherail. 'Gouponthebridge,'hesaid.'Youwillseeitbetterfromthere.' ThepilotwasonthebridgewiththeCaptain.Abovethemwasanotheropendeck wherethefunnelsimmered.Iheardthewhistleandchatterof'walkietalkiesand thesternswungclearofthebowsofthenextshipinline.Amade,onthe quayside,gavealastwaveandwalkedawayacrossthesidings,awayfromthe lights,overthecoalblackdust,intothenightshadowoftheyard.I'mgoingtoRio, Ithought,he'sgoingnowhere.Animmensesadnessreachedouttomeand fadedashemovedoutofsightamongthegoodswagons. Overthestarboardsidealongtugboatwashaulingoursternintotheharbour.My excitementsurgedupinachokingflood,asIsawthefulllineofvesselsstretched outinbothdirectionsasfarasmyvisioncouldstretch,allbrilliant,glowingunder athousandlanterns,tantalizing,promisingjoy,likedepartmentstoresat Christmastime,likeagiantfairground.Nothing,Ifelt,gladdenstheheartlike lightsshininginthedarkness.IwassooverjoyedthatIleaptupanddownand shouted,wonderingwhattheCaptainbelowwouldmakeofmyantics. Thetugletgoofthesternanditsbulbous,paddednoseslidalongtheshoreside oftheshipandrammedintothebows,chuggingfuriously,swingingusroundto pointtosea.Behindmethefunnelbelched,andtheship'sBurmeisterengines tookthestrain.Thetugboatstreakedawaytoport,flauntingherpower. Aheadatrailofblueflashingmarkerbuoysperforatedtheblackwaterleadingout pastotherfloatingfairylandsatanchor.TheprospectofBrazil,thepleasureof seeingmassiveobjectsineffortlessmotion,the lightswhichleavesomuchtotheimagination,allthiswasabenignmagic shapingtheworldformyspecialpleasure.Myfirstgreatseavoyagehadbegun. Iwokefeelingfinealthoughtheshipwasalreadywallowinginaheavyswell,and satdownwithconfidencetoabreakfastofeggsandbaconatseven.Bytena galewasblowing,theseawasmuchbiggerandIwasbeginningtofeeluneasy. Theshipwasseesawingandrollingheavily.WithalarmingspeedIwaslaunched intofullscaleseasicknesswhichIhadneverexperiencedbefore. TherewasonlyoneplacewhereIcouldbeartostand,onthestarboardgangway atthepivotalpointofthepitch.Thereatleastthepossibilitiesforviolentmotion werereducedbyone.Exhaustioneventuallyforcedmetotrylyingdown,butmy stomachwentintoafloatingwobble,somethinggrippedmythroat,mymouth floodedwithsaliva,likeabeastofpreyatfullkill,andtherewasjusttimetogetto therail.Thecroaking,despairingnoisethatissuedwithmybreakfastwasthe worstofit. InthebriefmomentofpeacethatfollowedItookupmystationonthegangway again,watchingthesea.Itwasinanunbelievableturmoil.Lumpsofblackwater withwhitecrestsrushedaboutinaimlessfury,collidingwitheachother.Thewind whippedupspray,thecloudsdischargedrain,thetwometandtheskyandsea mergedallaroundmeinaswirlingfusionofairandwater. Itwasimpossiblenottothinkoftheseaasalive.Therewasalifeforceatworkin it.ThewavesweremerecloaksforNeptune'sraidersastheytoreaboutbelow thesurface,andthecrestswereafrothwhippedupbytheirtridents.TheZoG wassomefourhundredfeetlongandweighedaboutfourthousandtons.She

rodeupontheswellandfellagainthroughatleastthirtydegrees.Whenshe camedowntohammertheseawithherbows,thesearushedoffscreaming vengeanceandpain,showingvividbruisesofpalebluewheretheship'shullhad smashedairandwatertogethersohardthattheyremainedentangledinthe wakeasfarasonecouldsee. Lookingdownintoallthismademegrasptherailverytight.Iknewnothingcould surviveinthatcauldron,andIthoughtmyordealwouldneverend.Itgaveme onlytheslightestsatisfactiontoknowthattheship'sengineerwasassickasI wasand,withabellytwicethesizeofmine,waspresumablytwiceas uncomfortable. Thenextdaywasclearandblue,theseawascalmer,butIwasunabletoeat anythinguntiltheevening.MostofallIwasafraidofsittingdownin thesaloonwhichwasheavilypermeatedbythesmellofdieseloilandcooking. Ipickednervouslyatatomatosalad.Itwentdownwithnotroubleatall.Every mouthfulmademestronger.Therewasroastlambwithgarlicandgreasyroast potatoesbutnothingcouldstopmenow.Beeraswell.Delicious.Marvellous.It's over! Thegreatgale(anditwasanunusuallyviolentone,theytoldme)waslike purgatorybeforeparadise.Thesouthernoceanwasblueandmild,under scatteredcloud,aswefloatedroundthecoastofSouthAfrica.Iwastheonly passengerandpassedmydayshappilyondeckteachingmyselfSpanish, watchingthebigseabirdsthatcametoswooparoundtheship,and contemplatingmyjourneyanditsmeaning. Onthefourthday,CapeTown,veiledingreymist,driftedpasttostarboard.I staredatitasthoughatafairylanddoomedtovanishunderaspell,feelingthe mostpainfulregret.ThenwefloatedfreeintotheAtlanticandbeganthelong sweepuptotheEquator.Thestormhadwashedtheshipcleannowthecrew wereputtoscrapingofftherustandrepaintingthedecksandrails. Thosedayswereamongthemostpreciousofthejourney.Tobalancethe disciplineoflearninganewlanguageIwasreadingMemories,Dreamsand ReflectionsbyJung,giventomebyafriendinCapeTownwhoseperceptiveness Iwasnowbeginningtoappreciate. Thebookmetmyneedsinthemostextraordinaryway,dealingsofreelywith thoughtsandfeelingsoutsidetherealmsoflogicandreason.AllthroughAfricaI hadfeltgrowinginmethebeliefthatwhatwasgoingonaroundme,theweather, thesuddenappearancesofanimalsandbirds,thewayIwasreceivedbypeople alongtheway,weresomehowconnectedtomyowninnerlife.Herewasamanof greatexperienceanderuditionnotonlydiscussingthesubjectanddescribing similarexperiencesfromhisownlife,butactuallyprovidingawordforitwhichhe hadhimselfcoined,'Synchronicity',meaning,forexample,'whenaninwardly perceivedeventisseentohavecorrespondenceinexternalreality'. What,allmylife,Iwouldhavecalledfoolishsuperstitionwasbeingpressed gentlyhometomebymyownexperienceandinterpretedformebyJung.The bookgoesmuchfurther,ofcourse,intoideasofafterlifeandacollective unconscious.Allofthemconnectedpreciselywiththoughtsthathadcome spontaneouslyoutofthejourney.IwasspeciallystartledtoreadJung'sremarks aboutmythologyandtheneedoftheindividualtohavesomestoryormythby whichhecanexplainthosethingswhichreasonandlogiccannotaccountfor.It

seemedtomethenthatIhadbeenclosetothetruthinthinkingofmyroleasa 'mythmaker',andnotjustformyselfperhaps. Thebookencouragedmeimmensely,andIspentalargepartofthetenday Atlanticcrossingreexaminingmypastlifeandwritingfuriouslyaboutmy discoveries.AtthesametimeItookevergreaterdelightinthecreaturesthat appearedaroundtheshipasitmovedintowarmerwaters.Aparticularalbatross thatfollowedusseemedtohavebecomequitefamiliarwithme,andsoaredclose bymeagainandagain,showingmehisbroadwhitebreastandtheimmense wingswhichhe(orshe)usedsobrilliantly.Flyingfishsprangfromthewaves,like smallbejewelledrockets,dashingoverthewaterforsecondsatatime,their winglikefinswhirringwithanalmostinvisibleswiftness. AtnightthePleiadesappearedclearandbrighttoremindmeofthemagicofthe Sudan,andmydreamswererichwithmysterioussymbolism. Oneeventthencrownedthatwholeseriesofdiscoveriesandreflections.Ihad cometoapointinmythoughtswhereoneday,onthedeck,itseemedtomethat Ihaduncoveredafactaboutmyselfandtheworld,awayoflookingatmy relationshipwithothers,thatpromisedagreatliberation. IfIcanjustfixthisthought,'Itoldmyself,Tshallfindawonderfulnewfreedomfor myself.' Atthatsameinstant,belowmeinthesea,agreatshoalofflyingfishburstout intothesunlight.ItwasanincredibledisplaythatdescribedexactlyhowIwasjust thenfeeling.UptothenIhadneverseenmorethanoneortwofishatatime,nor didIeveragain.Itwasadreamcometrue. AMERICA Landwasnearbyandtheworldwasclosingin,mufflingsoundsandthoughts. Thickhumidairpressedaroundtheshipandboreitupbetweenoceanandsky. Cloudsofsilverandleadboiledabove,spearedlikemarshmallowsonthe slantingraysofamidmorningsun.Asoupygreenseaslurpedsoftlybelow.I stoodabovethebridgewaitingforSouthAmericatoappear. PerhapsIwasexpectingthewholecontinenttocomeovertheskylineina simultaneousrushofcathedrals,revolutions,llamasandcarnivals.InsteadIsaw thehorizonthickenintosmudgesofdarkgreenandbrown.Wedriftedin.The smudgesstretchedbutremainedlow.Alastflyingfishswoopedoverthewaves.I caughtthemovementfromthecornerofmyeyeandmovedjustintimetofollow itattheendofitscourse.Thatstreakingsprayoflighthadbecomeascharged withmysteryandhopeasashootingstar.Ifeltagreatreluctancetoleavethe shipandwishedIcouldgoondreamingofalandfallthatnevercame. Alineofbuildingsappearedattheocean'sedge,andImadeouttwoorthree spiresprickingthepalesky.IforgotaboutSouthAmericaandbegantothink aboutFortaleza,onthenortheastcoastofBrazil,fourdegreessouthofthe Equator,andfivehundredmileseastoftheAmazon.Morethanamillion inhabitants,theyhadtoldme,andyetIhadneverheardofit.IfeltthatIhad slippedofftheedgeofmycustomaryworld. AredcuttercamepoppingtowardsusandtheZoGslowedtoletthelittleboat nudgealongside.Theharbourpilotcameaboard.Hewasadisappointmenttoo. HedidnotevenlookLatin.Weswungtoportandheadedforanotherpartofthe coastwhereIcouldalreadyseeagrainsiloandsomecranes.Theshoreline

embracedusandIsawthatwewereinabroadbay.Theonlyothercraftin motionwerenarrowrafts,fourlogslashedtogetherwitharudderandsail.Mostof themcarriedoneortwomensmallmen,barefooted,inchainstorenylonshirts andtrousers.Theshirtswereloose,openandtorn.Thetrouserswerebaggyat thebehind,narrowatthelegs,shortattheankles,patchedandsplit.Theywere fishermen,ofcourse,pesqueiros.Araftcamebynobiggerthantheothersbut crowdedwithpeople,shouldertoshoulder.EvenasIwatchedIknewitwas impossible,andrealizedthatinthisnewworldtherewerealsonewlaws. Ishouldhavebeenexcitedbytheprospectoflanding,butIfoundthatIwas nervous.MaybeIhadapremonition,thoughitdidnotfigureconsciouslyassuch. Isimplybalkedatthecomplexityoftheprocessthatlayaheadofme,knowing thatthemotorcyclewouldcreatedifficultiesandinvolvemeinlongandpainful exposuretobureaucracy.IhadtwoprejudicesaboutBrazilthatthebureaucracy wastotallycorrupt,andthatthepolicewereviolentandsuspicious,particularly wherejournalistswereconcerned.AlthoughIwasnottravellingasajournalist, myconnectionwiththeSundayTimeswouldhavetobedeclaredsincetheywere guaranteeingthebondonthemotorcycle.Ifeltwrongfooted.Vividlyinmymind wereaccountsofpolicebrutalityandtorturethatIhadheardinLondon.Likeall strongprejudicestheynotonlypreparedmefortheworst,theypavedtheway. CaptainFafoutisalreadyhadthecrewatworkopeningthehatches.Winches whirred.Derricksclatteredintoposition.Deckhandshammeredandshouted. Therewerefourmassivetarpaulinstolift,wedgestoknockout,plankstothrow about,girderstohoistandlower,andtemporaryhatchcoverstopositionsothata suddenshowercouldnotdestroythecargointheholds.Theshiprattledand bangedfromstemtostern. AtseatheZoGhadbeguntoseemquiterespectable,evenpassingfair,with herfreshlypaintedgreendecksandwhitebulkheads,therustandgrimeeffaced andthefilthofLourencoMarqueswashedawaybytheCapegales.Nowher corsetswerecomingundoneagain.Sheopenedhermouthandshowedher blackenedstumps,andthesatisfiedhumofherenginegavewaytoraucous docksideobscenities.Atseashewasalady,butinportshewasatrollop. Herholdswereabouttoberapedoffiftythousandbagsofcashewnuts,each bagweighingasmuchasanaverageman.Itwassupposedtobedoneintwo daysandthejobmeanthaulingoutthebagsattherateofeighteenaminutefor fortyeighthoursnonstop. Theyhadtobeloadedontolorriesandcartedofftoawarehouse.Wasanyonein Fortalezacapableofrunningsuchanoperation?CaptainFafoutisshrugged.'If not,'hesaid,'theywillhavetopaypenalty.' Thedocksweremoreclearlyinview.Arowofbiggreysheds,thesilo,acobbled quay,therailsrunningalongit,thebigtravellingcraneonitsfourstifflegslikea greatcreaturefrozeninprehistory.Oneothership,smallerandrustierthanthe ZoG,laytheretiedupandlifeless.Theskywasuniformlygreynow,andheavy. Soonitwouldrain. Theshipwinchedherselfalongside,aroughgangplankwentdownandtheport doctorcameaboard,followedsoonafterbyastreamof officials.Iwentbacktomycabintogatherthelastfewthingstogether,andfelta slightsenseofpanicatsomethingbeingirrevocablyover,feltthepowerful attractionofthislittlefloatinguniverseofpeelingveneer,frayedcloth,unvarying routineandfamiliarfaces.TheCaptain'scabin,nexttomyown,becameso

densewithsmokeanddealingthatitoozedillegalitylikeaprohibitionhonkytonk. Iwantedbadlytobepartofwhatwasgoingonnextdoor,tobeoneofthegang. Iwentouttolookdownonthequayandsawasmallwoodentablemovepast belowme.Itwascoveredbyatransparentplasticpyramidwhichshieldeda displayofcolouredsouvenirsandshells.Asitmovedalongthesandalsofthe manbeneathitbecamevisible,andheparkeditagainstawallandfussedoverit withaduster.Anothermanintorncottonclothingarrangedcustardapples againstthecolossalsteelbaseofthetravellingcrane.Theyresembledgreen handgrenades,andhehandledthemwithappropriatedelicacy. Lorrieswerealreadyarrivingfromthedockgates,andstevedorespouredintothe shipoverthegangplank.Withinminutesthederricksbeganrumblingandthefirst netfullofbagsswungupfromnumbertwohold,withnumbersoneandthree soondischargingtoo.Thebagscameupatonatatime,withthreelorriesloading together,andafleetlinedupandwaiting.Somebody,Isaw,wasdeterminedto beatthepenalty. Eventuallyadeckhandcametofetchmetobeinterviewedbythepolice.I followedhimtothegangwayoutsidetheCaptain'scabin,wheretwomenstood watchingtheunloading.Theywereridiculouslysinister,figuresfromafantasy. TheybelongedtoanageofcrimewhichIthoughthadlongsincepassed,and whichtobetruthfulIthoughthadonlybeengotupforfilmsandtelevision.The bosswasabigungainlymaninablackleatherjacket.Heworedarkglasseswith shinymetalrims,andhisfacewasnotonlyswarthy,pockmarkedandscarred, butdisfiguredbylumpslargeenoughtorivalhisnaturalfeatures.Heseemedto drawontwoquiteseparatetraditionsofviolenceandcouldhavebeencastasa HitManforHimmler.HisstuntedandweaselfacedcompanionIcouldonly describeasasidekick. However,theywerequitecivil,andaskedmetofillinaformtypedonapieceof roughpaper.Amongotherthingsithadaspaceformymother'sChristiannames. Thenwewenttomycabintoinspectmythings.Thebigmanwasjovialenough butspokenoEnglish,andthelittlemantranslatedclumsily.Theyaskedme severaltimesabout'scuba'.TheyweredeterminedthatIhadunderwaterdiving equipmentsomewhereandmydenialsobviouslysurprisedthem.Theyseemed baffledandsuspicious.Afteralittlewhiletheyaskedmetogoashoreandhave mypassportstamped. Iwalkedalongthequay,onfirmgroundagain,absorbedinthestrangeillusion thatthecobbleswereslidingbeneathmyfeet.Twomoremeninplainclothes receivedmeinawoodenhut.Unlikethefirstpairtheywerenotcaricatures.The youngoneintroducedhimselfasSamuelandspokeschoolEnglish,mostlyinthe presenttense.Hehadahandwrittenlistofdetailshewassupposedtogetfrom me,andtheyalsoincludedmymother'sChristiannames,whicharealittle unusual.Ibegantothinkofthemassumingalifeoftheirownandtravellingfor everinBrazilianofficialchannels.Myfather'soccupationwasalsodemanded again,andIrepliedwithoveremphasis,'Heisdead!',asthoughtheyhadbeen caughtwalkingonhisgrave.This,Ifound,gainedalittleextrarespect,thoughin realityIhadhardlyknownmyfather. Samuelalsoaskedaboutmydivingequipment,butseemedcontenttohearthat therewasnone.HethengavemethesameformtocompleteasIhadalready filledinontheship,anditincludedallthequestionshehadjustaskedme.Ididit withoutcomment.Itseemedpointlesstoobjecttofrontierofficialswastingone's

time,sincetheyareperfectlyplacedtowasteasmuchofitastheywish.Onejust triedtomakesurethatpatiencewasnotseenasservility,afinedistinction. Inallthislifeconsumingrigmaroleofirrelevancies,commontoallfrontiers,one newfactstoodoutclearlytheideaofgoingroundtheworldonamotorcycle meantnothingtothesemen.Itwasdoubtfulevenwhethertheybelievedme,and theirdisbeliefdisturbedmemorethanitshouldhavedone.Iexpectedpeopleto lookatmeandknowthatIwasgenuine.WithoutthistributeIbecamecoldand defensive.HowelsecouldIexplainmypresence,mystrangeclothing?Likea realcowboystumblingaccidentallyintoafancydresspartyIwantedtoshootto provemygunwasloaded. Mypassportkindledsomeinterest.Ithadalreadybeenstampedthroughfourteen pagesofvisasinAfrica,andthepolicelingeredlongovertheArabicandAmharic scripts.Finally,onpagenineteen,Igotmystamp:BRASILENTRADA22.05.74 TURISTA,signedJoaoZdeOliveiraCosta. 'CanIgonow?'Iasked. 'Youarefreetogoanywhere,'saidSamuel.Thisprovedquitesoontobeawild exaggeration. MycabinwasstilllockedasIhadleftit,butIsawimmediatelythatsomeonehad beensearchingmythings.Atubeofsalttabletswaslyinglooseonthebed. WhoeverhadlookeddidnotcarewhetherIknew.Nothingappearedtobe missing.Hadtheybeenlookingfordrugs?Orwasitanotherattempttodiscover mydivinggear?Ibegan,eventhen,tothinkImightbewalkingintoatrap,butthe ideaseemedhystericalandItriedtodismissit. WithCaptainFafoutisIsharedataxiintotown,andwefollowedtheshoreline roundthebay.Ihadneverbeenanywherethatlookedsowet.Itwasnotthe quantityofwaterthatimpressedme,butratherthewayitseemedtohave permeatedeverything.Itcoveredtheroadinlakes,partiallyconcealinggreat subsidences.Inotherplacessandbarslayacrossourpath,sweptdownfromthe dunesontheleft.Thebuildingsalongsideseemedsoddentothepointof dissolution,theirstonesurfaceserodedandspongy,theirplasterlongsincefallen away.Wedrovealongway,slitheringandbouncing.Thepeopleonthe sidewalks,movingalongtheirownobstaclecourse,didnothingtoliftmyspirits. Theirtobaccocolouredskinwasallthatdistinguishedthemtomyjaundicedeye fromthepopulationofanyindustrialsuburb,withtheirdowncastfacesandill fitting,massproducedclothing. Theshippingagent'sofficewasoftheoldfashionedbrownvariety.Withdifferent furnitureitcouldaswellhavebeenabedroomorasalon.Theagent,anelderly man,listenedimpassivelyasthoughIwereayoungnephewrecitingmy homework.Mylooseshirtandjeans,andthefunnybeltwiththepouchonitdid notqualifymeasaseriousclient. 'Thecustomsneedabankguaranteeagainsttheimportationofthemotorcycle,'I toldhim,'andthisguaranteeisbeingprovidedbytheSundayTimesinLondon. Youhaveheardofit,perhaps?Thenewspaper?' Hisexpressionindicatedmountingdistaste.Ihurriedon. 'TheguaranteewaslodgedinRiodeJaneiro.NowImusttellthemtohaveit transferredheretoFortaleza.' Theagentbegantoturnawaytowardsthedoor. 'SoIwouldlike,withyourhelp,tosendatelexmessage,unless...'Icaught sightofatelephone,'unlessperhapsIcouldtelephone.'

Thislastremarkseemedtopenetratewherenothingelsehad. 'Impossible,'hesaid. Twouldreversethecharges,ofcourse.' 'Itisimpossible,'herepeatedwithavoicelikearubberstamp. Thetelephonewasoneofthoseancientmodelswiththemouthpieceonastalk likeabakeliterose.ItdidnotseemadequateforreachingLondon,andIletthe ideago. 'Well,whencanIgetatelexmessageoff?'Iasked. 'Youwillnotgetthrough,'hesaid. 'Whynot?'Iasked. 'Impossible,'hesaid.'Youmustusethetelex.' 'Yes,'Isaid.Twouldliketosendatelexmessage.Doyouhavetelex?' 'Ofcourse,'hesaid. 'WhencanIuseit?' 'Itistoolate,'hesaid.'Pleasewait.'Andhelefttheroom. IsatdowninabrownchairandconsideredhowmuchtimeIshould donatetothisuselessexerciseinordertomakesurethattheagentdidnot actuallyblockmyprogress.IroughedoutashortmessagetotheSundayTimes, andallowedtheagenttoenterandleavetheroomoncewithoutdemandinghis attention.WhenhereturnedtenminuteslaterIfeltIhadshownenoughhumility andaskedhimwherethetelexmachinewas.Heavoidedthequestionandleft theroomagain,butanelderlyclerkwasobligedtoremainandIharassedhim withquestionsabouttimedifferencesandroutingdetailsuntil,infrustrationatnot beingabletounderstandmeordisposeofme,hetookmedownstairstothe streetandintoanotherofficeafewdoorsalong.Withinthisofficewasyetanother smalleroffice,andwhenthedoorwasopened,icyairstruckme,freezingmy sweatyshirttomyskin. WherebeforeIhadseenonlybrownwoodendesks,Inowsawgreenmetalfiling cabinets.Ayoungmaninatightfittingsuit,andashirtwithshootablecuffswas usingatelephoneofrecentdesign.ThroughthehumIheardapronounced'clack' thatfocussedmyeyesimmediatelyonabrightnewtelexmachinechatteringits pretapedmessagetoitsremotecounterpartacrosstheglobe. WalterSawasagraveandfashionableyoungmanwhospokegoodEnglishand, apparently,alsogotthingsdone,forhewasthemaninchargeofbeatingthe penaltyattheZoG.Heagreedimmediatelytosendmymessage.Hewarned methattheremightbenolineopenuntillater,andIshouldnotexpectareply beforethefollowingday. Ishouldhavethankedhimcordially,relaxed,andlefthisrefrigeratedofficetogo aboutmyproperbusiness,whichwasgettingusedtotheclimate,seeing somethingofthestrangecityandlearningthelanguage.Ididnot.WhatIhad alreadyseenofthetowndepressedme.Thestrangebehaviourofthepolice frightenedme.Iwantedtogetawayfromboth,butaslongasthebikewaslocked upinthecustomsshedIcouldnotmove.Ibecameobsessedbytheneedto speeduptheprocess,andcouldthinkofnothingelse.Isatforhoursinthe artificialatmosphereofSa'sofficewatchingtheclock,willingthechannelsto Londontoopen,willingthemessagetoarrive,willingtheanswertoreturnthere andthen.Itwasabsurd.Themessagewentoutasexpectedat4p.m.thatwas7 p.m.inLondon,andtoolateforareplytobepossibleuntilthenextday.

Mybackwasstiffwithtension,andthechillairhaddoneitnogood.Itookatoken walkupthehillintotown,butmyheartwasnotinit.Torrentsofrainwaterwere rushingdownthestreet,makingamuddyriveroverwildlyunevensurfacesof flagstone,cobble,cementandearth.Halfwayupthehillwasabridgebeingeither restoredordemolished,itwashardtoknowwhich.Abovemeloomedagrey granitewallretainingtheembankedgardenofacolonialfort,andonthewall stoodasoldier,wearingawaterproofcapeandcarryingarifle.AsIpassedhe gavemea malevolentstare,lockingonthewalletatmywaist.So,Inoticed,didothers.I begantolearnthatinthispartofAmericaonethingyoulookedforonastranger wasagun. Thenthecloudsbegantoweepagain,andIlostwhatheartIhadandscuttled backtotheshipinataxi.TheshowerhadstoppedwhenIarrived.Thestorm coverswerebeingremovedfromthehatchesandthecashewswereswinging out.Theworkcontinuedunderfloodlightsthroughthenight.Mydreamswere modifiedtoincludetherhythmicrumblingofthederricks,andthepaceofitkept myownanxietyalive. Inthemorning,overanoilyeggfriedingarlicwhichIhadcometoappreciate,I learnedthatIwouldhavetoleavetheshipthatday.TheZoGwasexpectedto sailthefollowingmorningbeforedawn.Itookataxibacktotheagent'sofficebut therewasnomessage,andItookanotheraimlesswalkintotown.Itwasashock todiscoverthattheSpanishIhadlearnedwasnouseatall.EvenwhenIreadout thePortuguesewordsfromamenuatafruitjuicecounterIcouldnotmake myselfunderstood,ablowtomyselfesteembecauseIhadalwaysbeengoodat pickingupthe'feel'ofalanguage.InrevengeIdevelopedasenselessdislikeof Portugueseanddeterminednottobotherwithit,tellingmyselfthatIwouldsoon beinSpanishspeakingAmericaandthattolearnPortuguesewasawasteof time. AssoonasIreasonablycould,Ireturnedtotheshippingofficeandsat,frozen inwardlyandout,waiting.Theywerepatientandtolerant.Iwasofferedfrequent cupsofcafesinhoandbottlesofFanta. Shortlybeforemiddaythemessagecame. Itwasinthreeparts. ThebankguaranteehadbeenarrangedwiththeBancodoBrasilinRiode Janeiro. IwasintroducedtoFatherWalshattheAcaoSocialofSaoRaimundo,withan addressandatelephonenumber. ItwassuggestedthatIgotoatowncalledIguatuwheretherehadbeenaserious flooddisaster,andwriteaboutit. Iwasdelightedtohavesomeinformationwhichmightleadtothereleaseofthe motorcycle,forthebikewasthekeytomyfreedom.Theintroductiontothepriest, whoIgatheredmustbeaCatholicmissionary,promisedatleastafootholdon thisslipperyshore,andgavesomethingmoretolookforwardtothanbureaucratic entanglements. ThereferencetoIguatuscaredme...Ihadnodoubtthattelexmessageswere monitoredbythepolice.InduecoursetheywouldreadthattheSundayTimes hadaskedmetoreportonaflooddisasterinthestateofCeara.'This',theywould say,'isanoddwayforatouristtobecarryingon.Let'saskhimagainwherehe's hiddenhissnorkel.'

Sgavemetheuseofhisphone,andIdialledthenumberinthetelex.A woman'svoicesanginmyear.'Quernestdfalando?" Thewordsmeantnothingtome,andIaskedforPadreWalsh.Thereweresome scufflingsounds,andamancametothetelephonewhobypurechanceturned outtobeWalsh.IexplainedhowIhadheardofhim.Inabrisk,youngvoicewitha powerfulIrishinflectionheestablishedquicklywhereIwasandwhatIneeded, andarrangedtomeetmewithacaranhourlater. 'IfI'mnotthereonthedot,don'tworry.I'llbestoppedsomewhereonthewaywith myheadunderthebonnet.Wehavethemostegregiouscollectionofcarsyou'll eversee.I'llbringthejataothatmeansjetlinerit'saflashyperformerbutithas blackmoods.' Thejataowasonschedule.Walshleanedacrosstheemptyseattoshoutmy namethroughthewindow. Ilikedthelookofhimimmediately.Hewasavigorousmanofaboutthirtyina looseshirtandsandalswithafriendlybutshrewdface.Iclimbedintothegreen VWandhesuggestedlunchbeforeIhadevenbeguntowonderhowtomention it.Wewenttoafishrestaurantonthebeach.Thefoodwasdelicious,thebeer wasgoodandcold,andWalshwasagrandtalker.Hisspeechcamefastand furiousandoftenhisaccentmadeithardformetocatch,butbytheendoflunch hehadilluminatedthepoliticallandscapeofNorthernBrazil,thechurch'shistory, thechangesforceduponitandthepresentrole,ashesawit,ofaCatholicpriest inCeara.Hewaswitty,comprehensiveandwonderfullyfreeofhumbugorpious rectitude. Perhapsthemajorsurpriseforapaganlikemyselfwasthatheconcentratedso thoroughlyonthepragmaticapproach.Asareactiontotheshamefulhistoryof thechurch'sindifferencetoitspoorflock,itwasrefreshing.WhenWalshspoke aboutthechurchorhismissionitwaswiththeexcitementofsomeoneengrossed inastupendoustheatricalproduction,thoughwhetherasactor,director,stage managerorcriticwasunclear.Presumablytheshowwasputonforthegreater gloryofGod,butthepresumptionremainedtacit.Walshhadonecriterionfora smashhit,andthatwas'Woulditsendthepeopleawaybetteroff?' Heseemed(andIsurelywrongedhimhere)tocarenothingforthatpartofhis dutieswhichrequiredhimtowearhiscassockunlessitmademoney. 'YoushouldseeourWednesdayNovena,'hesaid.'TheWednesdayShow, continuousperformancesthroughtheday,themostfashionablethingintown.All thecreamofFortalezaisthere.Thetakin'saresomethingglorious.' Thetakingswenttosupportsocialwelfareschemesandwerespenton thingsasprosaicasfood,clothing,buildingmaterialsandtoolsforselfhelp projects. Ilistenedbemusedandgratefulforthetorrentofinformation.IfIspokeatallit wastokenstufftoshowmyappreciationandgivethemanabreather.Ishowed himmytelexmessage,andmentionedmyfears.Tohiscredithedidnottryto convincemethattheyweregroundless,butsimplysuggestedputtingthemaway sincetherewasnothingIcoulddoaboutthemanyway.Inhiscompanythat seemedamostnaturalandintelligentcoursetotake. Hedrovemetothedocksandhelpedmetofetchmythings.Ameasureofhis influencewasthattheZoG,whichthatmorninghadfeltlikehome,nowlooked theseedyoldfreightershewouldalwaysbewhenviewedfromshore.Isaidsome

farewellstothecrew,tryingtobreathealittleoftheoldcamaraderieintothem, buttherepliesweresooffhandthatIsawIhadlongagobeenunloadedand forgottenintheirminds,relegatedtothatotherworldwhichtheZoGalways sailedawayfromsoonerorlater. WalshandIrattledofftoSaoRaimundoonanendlessandtortuousroute.At timesweseemedtodriveoutintothecountry,onlytoplungeagainintosome waterloggedandsandstrewnsuburb.Thegreaterpartofthecityconsistedof singlestoreyedbrickbuildingsundulatingandcrumblinginloosefoundations.I felttheearthwasdeterminedtoshakeitselflooseofanunwantedencumbrance. Towardstheendweranalongamajorroadwhosesurfacehadallbut disappeared,withditchesrunningalongsideandacrossit.Therewerecarsand manytaxisontheroad,alllookingasthoughtheyhadbeenrecoveredfromthe wrecker'syard.Theyflashedasthesunstruckthemultifaceteddentsintheir bodywork,andthedoorsjiggledvisiblyintheirframes.Theyslalomedskilfullybut recklessly,inatriumphoftemperamentovercommonsense,becausevehiclesin Brazilweresupremelyexpensive. Weclimbedasandyembankment,crossedarailwayline,stumbledoversome ditchesandarrivedatSaoRaimundo. ForthenextfewdaysIatewiththepriests,andsleptinahammockdownthe roadinthecaretaker'shome.AntonioSa,thecaretaker,wasatall,happyman, brownskinnedandhandsomewholivedwithhiswifeandchildreninasmallbrick house.Theyateinoneroomandsleptinanother,sothethirdroomwasavailable forletting.IshareditwithanotherEnglishman,IanDall,whowasvisitingSao Raimundo,andwepaidAntonioafewcruzeirostohelphimoutwhilehestudied tobecomeanelectrician.Ianshowedmehowtousethehammock,itwasa revelationtofindthatbylyingdiagonallyacrossit,onecouldstretchoutstraight andcomfortableratherthanbefoldeduplikeabanana. ThenextdayIpresentedmyselfattheBancodoBrasiltoseeaboutthe guarantee.Thebanktookmebysurprise.Ihadexpectedtheolderstyleof shabbyanddiscreetbanking.Herewasalargeairybankinghallfullofuptodate officemachineryandanimatedpeople,promisingbustleandefficiency.Ifound mywaytotherightofficialandexplainedmyproblemwithatranslatorand severaleagerminionsstandingby.Themanhadakeen,expressionlessfaceof Europeanpaleness.Heworespectaclesfinelyframedtofostertheimpressionof amanwhosemindrangedfarbeyondhisimmediateresponsibilities.Hissuitwas animmaculatelightweightgrey,andhisshoesgleamedonthecomfortable carpetingbeneathhistable.AboveallIwasstruckbyhisopulentlinen.Hisshirt andhandkerchiefhadthatsoftandspotlessluxurywhichonlydedicatedservants canprovideandwhichnoamountofWesternmoneyandmachinerycan duplicate. Helistenedcarefullyandhisentouragegazedonrespectfully.Thenhespoke. ThetranslatorinformedmethatwhatIwantedcouldnot,unfortunately,bedone. Theofficialaddressedhimselftohispapers,andthegroupobviouslyexpected metovanishmarvellouslywithoutanotherword.Therudenessofitastonished me.Idemandedanexplanation,andtheofficialraisedhisheadandlookedatme asthoughIreallyhadreappearedfromthinair.Hesmiledatsomeprivateand infinitelysubtlejoke,andevenlaughed,lightlyanddelicately.Herepeatedthatit wouldbe'quiteimpossible',meaningthatonlyahalfwitcouldhaveimagined

otherwise.Istillrefusedtoevaporate,andwasshuntedofftoothers,butnobody seemedcapableofevenhintingatanexplanation. WhenIwasfinallyejectedontothepavement,IrealizedthattheSundayTimes wouldhavetostarttheprocessagainfromLondon,andIsentoffanothertelex andpreparedmyselftowait. SaoRaimundoconsistedofthechurch,alargecollegeforboysandgirls,andthe parishhousewhereWalshlivedwiththreeorfourotherpriests.Thepriestswere stronglybuiltIrishmen,choseninpartfortheirfitness.Theyhadadopted PortuguesenamesandwereknowntotheirparishionersasPadresMario, Eduardo,Brandao,Marcelloandsoon.Theslightestofthemall,physically,was Marcello,avisitorfromacountryparishwhohadcometoFortalezasometime backtoconvalescefromalongillness.Wewerepassingtheplasticboxof cornflakesroundthetableatmysecondbreakfastwhenIheardthathewas returningthefollowingday,bybus,tohisparishintheinterior. 'Whereisthat?'Iaskedidly. Tguatu,'hesaid. ButforthatchanceIdon'tsupposeIwouldhavegonetoIguatu.Havingthename thrustbeforemeagaininsuchapointedwaymadeitdifficulttorefuse,though quitewhomIwasplanningtoobligeIdidnot know.Thenotionofallowingadegreeofrandomnessinmymovementswas alreadyestablished.MyarrivalinFortalezawasitselfafatefulaccident,andIwas intriguedtoseehowonehappeningledtoanotherinsuchawaythat, somewherealongthethreadofevents,itseemedasthoughapatternwasbeing woven.Ifeltimpelledtoletthepatternemerge,howeverominousitseemed. 'Whydon'tyoucomeandhavealook?'Marcelloadded,asIknewhewould.'It'll onlycostyouthebusfare.' 'Alright,'Isaid,andlightlyforWalsh'sbenefit,'Mightaswellbehungforasheep asforalamb.' IguatuistwohundredandfiftymilesfromFortalezaontheJaguaribeRiver,and thejourneytookmostoftheday.Thecountrysidemovedpastlikeanendlessly revolvingbackdropofthesameoilpalmsandswampsandglisteningredlaterite soil.Signsofthatyear'smassiverainfallwereeverywherevisible.Theroad, newlybuilt,wasalreadybrokenandpotholed,andinplaceshadbeenswept awayaltogethersothatwewereinanycaseforcedtotakealongerroutethan usual. TherewasastopforlunchinabarnlikerestaurantservingthestapleBrazilian mealofsteak,riceandcoarseflourymaniocafriedwiththemeat.Afteranother shortstopintheafternoonthebusarrivedinIguatu,justbeforedark. ThateveningIsatinFatherMarcello'ssmallhousebrushingasidemosquitoes whilehetriedtogivemesomeideaofthelifeofthepeopleinhisarea. MostofthemareamongthethirtyorsomillionpeasantsintheNorthofBrazil whoareasclosetopovertyanddestitutionasanyintheworld.Sincetheydonot owntheland,theirconditionisvirtuallyfeudal,andthetinyresourcestheyhave aresufficientonlytoseethemthroughfromonedaytothenext.Whenthegreat naturaldisastersoccurtheymustsuccumb,anddisastersinthetropicsareas regularastheseasons.Cyclone,floodordroughttaketheirtollannually,and becauseofthisinescapablepunishment,thevictimshavebeenknownfor generationsastheflagelados.

TheiroriginallanguageisGuarani,andIndianlanguagethatwaswidelyspoken inBrazil,Argentina,Paraguayandpartsofotherneighbouringcountries.They areofIndiandescentmixedwithPortuguese,andhavewelldefinedcheekbones andbroadfaces.Theyareshortinstatureandhavefinesmoothskinliketoffee, delicatelyengravedbyage. IguatuisaGuaraniwordmeaningbeautifulwater.ItwasonSunday,24March, thatthebeautifulwaterhadsuddenlyrisenandfloodedacrossthebanksofthe Jaguaribe.Thefloodlastedforthreedaysandsweptmanyhousesaway.During thefollowingweeksthevictimssalvagedwhattheycouldfromtheirruinsand tooksheltertemporarilyinthealreadycrowdedhouseswhichhadsurvived.So farithadbeenanordinarydisaster.Then,onthethirdSunday,thewaterrose againbutthistimemuchhigherandmuchfaster. Aswiththefirstflood,thewatertookthreedaystosubside.Ithadrisenfortyfeet, totouchthelowergirdersofthebigironrailwaybridge.Somepeopleinabarge hadbeentornfromtheirmooringsandtrappedforawhileunderthebridge.It wassaidthattheyhadlostachild.Miraculouslythatwouldhavebeentheonly knowncasualty.Thesecondfloodleftfourhundredhouseseitherruinedortotally demolished. Hundredsnowhadnoplaceatalltotakeshelter,butonthefollowingThursday beforeanyusefulmeasurescouldbetakentohelpthemtheriverroseyetagain toitsprevioushighestlevel. Iarrivedamonthlater,towardstheendofMay.Inanormalyeartherainswould havebeenover,theskylongsinceclearedandthesoilalreadyscorchedand dustyintheheatofthedryseason.But1974wasexceptional,asIhadalready seeninAfrica,andtheskywasasgreyandsoggyaswetflannel. IguatuasIfounditwasatownofseveralthousandinhabitantswithapleasant andprosperouscentrerunningrapidlytoseedattheedges.Itisbuiltonhigher groundonthesouthsideoftheriverandwaslargelyuntouchedbytheflooding, althoughtheriverdidundercutthebankinplacesandbringdownafew improviseddwellings.Themajorpartofthedamagewasonthelowernorthbank, wherepoorerpeoplehadaccesstoland. InthemorningMarcelloandIwalkedacrossthebridgetohavealook.Onthe othersidewefollowedapaththatcurvesawaytotheleftandbroughtusbackto theriverandanopensandyexpanselitteredwithdebris.Itwasherethat hundredsofhomeshadrecentlystood.Mostofthemhadbeensmalltworoomed constructions,somebuiltofbrickandothersofwattleanddaub.Thelater houses,ostensiblystrongerandmadeofbrick,hadcollapsedaltogetherand nothingremainedtoshowwheretheyhadoncestood.Therewasamoralhere somewhere. Itwasobviousthatthehousesontheseshallowbanksinviteddestructionbytheir verypresence.Thepeoplecutdownthetreesforbuildingandforburning.They keptanimals,agoat,adonkey,perhapsacow,whichdenudedthegroundof grassesandshrubs.Whentheriverrosethesoilslippedawaylikesandwith nothingtobindit.Theprocessmusthavehappenedmanytimes,eatingfurther andfurtherintotheland.Therewasonlyalimitedareaavailabletothesepeople. Beyondweremoreprosperoushouseswithwalledandfencedgardens. Westoppedbytwooldpeoplewhowererecoveringtheroundclaytilesfromtheir ruinedhome.Thehousewasnowatransparentstructureof

woodenuprightssupportingtheroof,andtheriverhadlaidthreefeetofsandover theoriginalfloorlevel,sothattheoldman,shortashewas,stoodwithhis grizzledwhiteheadthroughtherafterslookingatusacrosshisownroof. HisnamewasManuelSubinodosSantos,andhewasafine,tougholdmanwith adriedandsaltedlook.Hetoldusthathewasaboutseventyyearsold,sixty eightorseventy,hewasnotquitesure.HeworealooseandfadedblueTshirt andshorts,withastringofbrownbeadsroundhisneckandsomekindofsilver objecthangingathiswaist.Hewashandingthetilesonebyonetohiswife, IgnacioZumiradaConceicao,wholookedasoldandwiryasherhusbandbut saidshewasonlyfifty.Sheworeaprintedcottondressandwhiteheadbandand shewasstackingthetiles.Theyplannedtorebuildtheirhouseelsewhere. Theylookedquiteindestructible,andseemedcalmandateasewiththeworld. 'Someotherlandhasbeenallocatedtothehomelessforbuildingnewhouses,' Marcellotoldme.'Itisonhighergroundbeyondthetown.Acommitteewas formedtocopewiththedisaster.There'stheVolkswagenagent,abusinessman withsomestores,alocalfarmerwhohassomepoliticalpull.Thenthere'sthe bishopandtheparishpriestwho'sanotherIrishman,andthreecountycouncillors andtwodoctors. 'There'sanationalorganizationtoo,calledAncar,whichisresponsibleforrural developmentandtheyhavethreepeopleonthecommittee.Imustsaytheywere reallyquiteenergetic,andthegovernorofthestatehasputalotintoit.' Itwasverypleasantnowbytheriver,withthewaterrunningsafelyfarbelow.On theoppositebankwomenwereslammingtheirlaundryonstonesandspreadingit todryonthesand,makingabigandcolourfulpatchwork.Upstreamamanwas fishing.Agoodplacetolive,withinreachofthewater.Onecouldputoutanet andkeepaneyeonit.Handyforcooking,andwashing.Ifonlytheycouldfinda waytoprotectthegrassesandshrubs,tokeepthebankstabilizedandresistant toflooding.Whynot? 'Ignorance,perhaps,orapathy.Inthepastwhenevertheymadeanefforttomake somethingbetterforthemselvesitwasalwaystakenawayfromthemifnotby theelements,thenbylandowners,soldiers,thepowersthatbe.Overthe generationstheyareleftwithlittledesireforimprovement.Theyarehardyand uncomplaining.Theytakewhatcomes.' ItookpicturesofDosSantosandhiswife,andotherlessfortunatefamilies whosehouseshaddisappearedentirely.ThenFatherMarcellowentoffonhis dutiesandIwanderedalongtheriverbankslookingandphotographing. Theselfhelpprogrammeforfloodvictimswascentredroundaconcrete slaughterhouse,newlybuiltandnotyetfunctioning,ontheothersideoftown. Somefamilieswerehousedinthebuilding.Otherstookshelterinhutchesof blackplasticsheetdrapedoverwoodenscaffolding.Thefamilies,thoughlarge, occupiedtinyareasofspaceandhadonlythemostmeagrepossessions.I shouldhaveexaminedthemmorecarefullytoseewhathadbeenrescued,what objectsofvenerationstoodguardoverthemat,thesaucepan,thewaterpot,butI wastoohotandtoodistractedbymyowndiscomforttomaketheeffort. ThissameheatwhichIfoundstiflingwasthesavingofthesepeople.Ina temperatewinter,giventheircircumstances,theirscantyfoodandclothing,most ofthemwouldhavediedofexposure.Inthetropics,withshelterfromtherain, onecansubsistalongtimeonremarkablylittle.Whatlacksmostishopeand initiative,andthiswasbeingsupplied,insymbolicform,byamachineformaking

cementcavitybricks.ItwasdesignedbyanEnglishmanworkingwiththeOxfam charity,anditwassetupinfrontoftheslaughterhouse.Homelessmenwhowere notworkingatthetimewereemployedonit,andagreatmanybrickswere alreadypiledupandwaitingtobeusedinthehouseswhichtheyplannedtobuild forthemselvesonthenewland. Sotheyhadbeengivensomesortofapromiseofabettertomorrow,butitwas terriblyfragile,justasitwaspainfullyobviousthatthesepeoplewerereallynot needed.Theywereunskilled,uneducated,anddestitute.Thebiglandowners wouldneverwantformanuallabour,theyhadtheirpickfrommillions.Theywere thechildrenoffate,abyproductofcenturiesofneglect,surplustorequirements. Somehadbeengivenlowarmytentstosleepin.Herewasawomanwithsix children,cookingoutsidehertent.Shehadbuiltasmallbutpleasingshelterfrom wovenreedsandgrassestoserveasakitchen.Inithersmallestchildlayina cardboardcarton.Herhusbandwasatworklabouringfortencruzeirosaday, whichwasjustunderadollarfifty.Shedidnotknowforhowmanydayshewould beemployed. 'Yes,Sir,Iwouldliketosendmychildrentoschool,buthowcanI?Theyhaveno clothes.' IaskedFatherMarcellowhetherhebelievedher. 'Oh,Ithinkso.Schoolingischeapenough,itonlycoststhirtycruzeirosahead andthatincludesasnackforlunch,butshewouldhavetofindahundred cruzeirosatleastforclothing,andthenmoreforpaperandpencils.' 'Tencruzeirosadaydoesn'tsoundlikemuch,'Isaid. 'No,'hereplied,lookingalmostapologeticasthoughheweretoblame.'Itwillbuy threekilosofriceorbeans.It'sactuallywellbelowthelegalminimum,butthey arenotinapositiontocomplain.' Needlesstosay,thepeopleinthenorthofBrazilwereallthin. ThebusrattledmebacktoFortalezanextday.Alonethistime,andgoingover thesameroute,Idozedagooddealoftheday,withthesenselessmusicofa transistorradiominglingwiththebus'sroarandenvelopingmeinatunnelof fantasticnoise. ItwasstillonlymidafternoonwhenIgotbacktoSaoRaimundo,andIwas restless.ItwasmyseventhdayashoreandatlastIwasbeginningtofeelmore comfortablewiththeclimate.MycuriosityhadcometolifeagaininIguatuandI wasnolongeratravellerinlimbowithonefootatseaandanotheronland. WalterSahadatelexmessagefromLondontosaythattheSundayTimeswas makingarrangementsforaguaranteewiththeBankofLondoninFortaleza. FatherWalshsaidheknewthemanager,aScotsmancalledAlanDavidson.I calledthebankandmadeanappointmenttoseeDavidson.Theyoungpoliceman calledSamuelhadleftanoteatthehouseaskingmetocallattheMaritime Policewithmydocuments.Thereweresomedetailstheyhadforgottentoaskfor. 'Mymother'sChristiannamesagain,'Isaidwearily.TsupposeI'dbettergo.' Tsupposeso,'saidWalsh. 'Well,itcanwaituntiltomorrow,'Isaid,andsetofffortheolderpartoftown. Ifoundremnantsoftheoldfortifications,asmallbutprettyparkwithdelicate fencesandornaments,oldsidewalksstillpavedsurprisinglywithmarble flagstones.Lightsbeckonedfromavaultedgatewaysetinthemiddleofafineold stonebuilding,andIfollowedfaintsoundsofmusicandconversation.The buildinghadbeentheoldprisonandwasnowconvertedintoamuseum.Huge

roomswithancientandlustroushardwoodfloorswereturnedovertoexamplesof localartandcustom.Behindtheprisonwasagardenofsmalllawnsandpools, withfountainsplayingandlightsconcealedinbushesandamongpalmfronts. Alongsiderananarcadeofshopstradinginleatherwork,wovengoodsandother handicrafts.Atscatteredchairsandtablesyoungcouplesorgroupsentertained themselveswithaseeminglyendlessrepertoireofhumorousanecdotes,therattle ofspeechbuildingupintospasmodicclimaxesoflaughter.Thekidswereall impeccablyturnedoutinthepopfashionsofthelatesixties,miniskirts,brightly colouredflaredtrousers,tailoredshirtsandblouses,threeinchplatformsoles. PhysicallytheywerenodifferentfromthepeasantsofIguatu,buttheywere planetsapart. Isatforawhile,butitwasanatmospherethatemphasizedmysolitude.Without thelanguageandwithnobiketoestablishmycredentialsIfelttooshytomake contact.Iwasabouttoleavewhenmyattentionwasseizedbytwoguitarists sittingsidebysideagainstthewallofthearcade. Theyhadbothbeguntoplay,andonewassinging.HisvoicesentShockwaves throughme.Hetookthesyllablesofthefirstlineandhammeredthemoutwith distinctandequalemphasis,likeblowsonananvil,beforeleadingintothe melodythatcompletedtheverse.Thenhiscompanionrepliedinthesame manner.Theeffectwaswonderfullypotent.Ifeltthesameastonishmentthat alwaysovertakesmewhenwithafewboldstrokessomethingfamiliarismade strangeandthrillingagain. ForthefirsttimesincelandinginBrazilIexperiencedsomethingIcouldcall beautiful,anditgavemeaplaceatlastinthisstrangenewworldandmademe hungryagainforlife.Ionlyunderstoodafterwardsthesignificanceofthat moment. SuddenlyimmersedinthetropicalpovertyofLatinAmericaIwasstrugglingnot onlywithpersonalproblemsbutwithmoralandethicalquestionsofgreat complexity.Howpoorispoverty?Howrichisrich?Shouldprieststendbodiesor souls?Inwhoseinterestsweretheyacting?WouldtheIndiansbebetterorworse offinademocracy?Canademocracyfunctionwithanilliteratepopulation?What kindofaidhelps,andwhatkindisuseless,andwhatkindcorrupts? Yetunderneathallthisclinicalquestioning,whatconcernedmereallywasamuch moredirectandpersonaldoubt.WhatIwantedtoaskwas'HowcanIoranyone possiblyliveagoodlifeamidstallthissqualorandhumidityanddecayand indifference?Whereisthepointofit?Whatistheretoliftuptheheartandthe spirit?Whatcananindividualpitagainstthepowerofnatureandtheapathyof others?Whereisthevaluethatlasts?' Ibadlyneededsomegroundinwhichtorootmyfeelings,andthesingersgaveit tome. IhadheardFatherWalshsay,withhonestyanddueconsideration,thathecould notratebeautyveryhighinhisschemeofthings,andIhadreproachedmyselffor lettingitbotherme.Whentherewerepeoplesickandstarvingandhomeless, howcoulditmatterwhethertheyateoffchinaorplastic,whethertheirroofwas tileortin,whetherthepriestslivedinaharmoniousandpleasinghomeora soullessechoinginstitution?Wasn'titenoughthatthesemengavethemselves utterlytothepoor,andtaughtthemhowtograspatjustafewofthematerial benefitsoftheMachineAgewhichhadleftthemsofarbehind?Wasn'tthere

enoughbeautyintheheartsandactionsoftheserawbonedforeignerstooffset alltheuglinessoftheirnewpragmatism? Isawpeasantscomingfrom handmadehousestoreceivehelpfrommenwho livedinsquaredoffboxeslinedwithinertsubstancesandlitfromcornerto corner.Naturallytheywouldfixonthisbrightnewrectangularlifeastheirultimate ambition.WhileinmyworldmillionsofdescendantsofEurope'speasantrywere longingtostruggleoutofthose samesterilespacesandbacktosomethingresemblingalifewithnaturalthings. Wasthewhole'underdeveloped'worldqueuinguptobeputthroughthesausage machine,tocomeoutuniformandplumpandcoveredinthesameshinyplastic skin?ItwasnotthefirsttimeIhadseenthehumanconditioninsuchmeanand aimlessterms.Thesamedepressingvisionhadoverwhelmedmeintheslumsof Tunis,thetinhutsofEthiopia,theshantiesaroundNairobiandtheblacktownship ofSoweto.TryasIwouldtoimaginearosierfuture,Icouldseeonlyever increasingnumbersofpeopledeterminedtoseizeontheresourcesoftheearth andpervertthemintogreaterandgreaterheapsofindestructibleconcreteand plasticugliness,onlytolookandlearnandretreatinpenitentdismaybeforethe nextwaveof'developing'citizens.AndthereseemedtobenothingthatIorany individualcoulddothatwouldmakealotofdifferencetotheoutcome.Imetmany whosharedmypessimism,andsomewhofeltpersonallyinsultedbyit,butI neverheardanyoneproposeaconvincingalternative. Itwasmyweaknesstobecomeobsessedbythesegloomyabstractions.Imadeit mydutytosavetheworld,andeachtimeIfailedIfeltaslifelessandmeaningless asthegreyarmyofunbornbillionswhosefutureIwastryingtosettle. AgainandagainIhadtobetaughtthatonesinglelifegivingactisworthmore thanamillionspeculations.Once,inEthiopia,Iwasrestoredbynothingmore thanasmile.AsIrodeoutofGondarawomanwalkedtowardsmedressedin pinkandcarryingaparasol.Whenshesawmeapproaching(andIwasan unusual,perhapsfrightening,sightthere)herfacewastransformedbythemost extraordinarysmileIhaveeverseen.Itshone,itbeamedtowardsmewithsuch lifeanddepththatIwasherson,herlover,hersaviourallinone.Shebowed quicklybutdeeplyseveraltimesasIpassed,butmaintainingthatsameradiating qualityofhappiness,sothatIwasraisedtotheGodsforalong,longtime. InFortalezaitwasthosetwomenwiththeirurgent,sadvoiceswhoremindedme whatlifewasaboutandwhatmadeitworthliving. ImetthemanageroftheBankofLondonnextmorning.Hewasafairhaired, youngishmanwhoseemedtoexudewithouteffortallthequalitiesofsuperior competencethatthemanattheBancodoBrasilhadtriedsohardtoproject,but ofcourseIwasheavilybiased.Inhisstudiouslyfurnishedsanctumwedrank sweetblackcoffee.Heaskedintelligentandflatteringquestionsaboutmyjourney anddescribedhislifeinBrazil.HeenjoyedFortalezaandwasphysically comfortablethere,andbeingwithhimraisedmymoraleanothernotch.Iexpected thatwewouldmeetagainsomeeveningandIlookedforwardtobeingdrawninto thelifeofthecitywhileIwaitedouttheformalities.Meanwhileitwasclearthatthe problemoftheguaranteecouldbesafelyleftwithhim. ToencouragemyrisingoptimismItreatedmyselftotheluxuryofarestaurant withcleanlinenandflowersonthetable.Theweatherconspiredwithmeand waiteduntilIhadtakenmyseatbeforesendingthemiddayrainsmashingdown ontheflagstonesoutside.Irevelledinthefreshnessoftheprawns,and

discoveredstewedcashewfruit.Theraincontinued.Ismokedseveralcigarettes andcopiedthemenuonapapernapkin,determinednowtobeginlearningthe language.Stillitrained,andeventuallyIcouldputthevisittothepoliceoffno longer.Inacornerofmymindtheycontinuedtoagitateanddisturbmypeace.I wantedtobeshotofthem. BythetimeIhadfoundataximyclotheswerewet.Iwasstillunsuitablyand obtrusivelydressed.Myshirtsleeveswerelong,myjeanstoohotandheavy.I stillhadnosandals,andmyshoesandsocksquicklybecamesoakedinthe streamsofwatergushingoverthepavementsandgutters,butIexpectedthe afternoonsuntodrymeout. Samuelreceivedmewithprofuseapologies,lookingyoungerthanever. 'NowyoucomeforPoliciaFederal.Itisnothing.Somequestionsonly.Nothing.I amsoorry.Iwillbeyourfriend.' Wesatsidebysideinthebackofashabbyblackpolicecarandreturnedtheway Ihadcome,asSamuelcontinuedtosootheme. 'PoliciaFederalisnotverylongaway.IshallliketotalkyoumoreformyEnglish.' Isawthecathedralpassby,andthenthecarstoppedbeforeawhitevillaset backfromtheroadwithaflowergardeninfront. Itwasalargeandirregularbuildingdistinguishedfromitsneighboursbyawebof aerialsabovetheroof.Wewalkeddownaredtiledcorridortoasmallreception areaattheback.Iwassurprisedbythecleanandprosperouslookofitall,as thoughtheyweredoinggoodbusiness.Wesatonmodernblackplasticcushions andgazedatwoodpanelledwalls,andwaited. Wewaitedmorethananhour.Finallyayoungwomancameuptome.Shewas slim,pretty,hardlymorethanagirlreally,anddressedforaholidayoradatewith aboyfriend.Sheseemedverycomposed,andsmiledeasilyatme. 'IamFranziska,'shesaid.Twillinterpretforyou.Pleasecome.' Thiscan'tbesobad,Ithoughtirrelevantly,assheledmeintoaverysmalloffice. Itseemedtobefullofmenpackedincigarettesmoke.Iwasseatedatadesk facingasmall,toughlookingfellowinshirtsleeves.Franziskasatonmyright betweentwoothermen,hergreenminiskirtwellabovehershapelycoffee colouredknees.Ismiledather.Shelookedgrave,butnottoograve. Thenthemanacrossthedeskbeganshouting.Hemademequitenervous.He soundedverybelligerentindeed.Franziskabegantotranslate. 'Hesays"YouhavebeentoIguatu.Youhavebeentakingpictures.Whowere youwith?Whatpicturesdidyoutake?Whowereyoutalkingto?"' Franziska'snicelymodulatedvoicedidnothingtodispelthebrutalimpactofthe littlemanashesatstaringangrilyatme,orthemenaceoftheothertwowho seemedtobecountingmyvertebrae.Therewasobviouslynopointindenying anythingorrefusingtoanswer.Iadmittedthecharge,explainedasgraciouslyasI could,andaddedwithgenuineinnocence:'Whynot?' Igotnoanswer.Themanbellowedatmeagain. 'Areyouajournalist?'saidFranziska. Itisonethingtohavethisputasapolitequestion,andquiteanothertobe accusedofitasifitwereacapitaloffence.Ifeltthefirsttwingeofhopelessness andfear,becauseitwasaquestionIwasincapableofansweringhonestyand credibly.Yes,Ihadbeen,andmaybeIwouldbeagain.Butnow,onthisjourney? No,Iwasnot.

Myolderpassport,whichidentifiedmeasajournalist,wastuckedintothelinen moneybeltatSaoRaimundo,togetherwithacorrespondent'scardthathadbeen usefulinCairo.IfIhadhadthosewithmeIwouldneverhavedaredtodenythe profession.WasIorwasn'tIajournalist?Wasitbettertotellthetruthandrisk beingmadetolookaliar,ortellalieandhaveitbelieved?Irememberedvividly beingtoldinLondonthatforeignjournalistswereoftengivenshortandpainful shriftbytheBrazilianpolice.Idecidedtotellthetruth. 'No,'Isaidfirmly,Tamnotajournalist,butmyjourneyissupportedbythe SundayTimes,andIwritearticlesaboutmypersonalexperience.' Nowcametheproblemofthetelex.Thatbloodytelex,Ithoughtsavagely, sendingmeofftoIguatu.Anyminutenowthey'llproduceacopyofit.Andwhy, ohGod,wasIstupidenoughtogo?AndIthoughtaboutbeingwatchedatIguatu andwonderedwhereelseandforhowlongtheyhadbeenwatchingme.SoI decidedtoshowthemthetelexstraightaway,likethefrankandforthrightfellowI was,hopingIcouldconfusethemoverthewordingofit. Thetelexwastuckedinsidemyworkingpassport.Withit,unhappily,wasablack andwhitesnapshottakenbyFatherMarcello,showingtheJaguariberiverinfull floodbeneaththebridge.AsIdrewoutthetelex,thephotographfellonthedesk. Ifthereisonethingdictatorshipshate(andwithreason)itisforeignerstaking picturesoftheirbridges.Theinterrogatorseizeduponit.Pointless,again,todeny whatitwas,whoithadcomefrom.Ibegantofeelterrible.Howcouldaninnocent snapshotbegintoassumesuchsinistersignificance?Yetitundoubtedlydid.And nowthepriestsweretangledupinthistooMarcelloinIguatuWalshinFortaleza becausehewasmentionedinthetelexevenOxfamwasthereasanincidental reference.Iwasastoundedbythecomplexityofthesituation,althoughthegame hadscarcelyevenbegun.Irealizedlaterthateventhemostelaboratefictional spyplotswouldbechildishlysimplecomparedwiththerealthing. Franziskastruggledtotranslatethetelex.Iexplainedthatwhatitreallymeant wasthattheSundayTimeshadalreadyhadastoryaboutIguatu.Themessage wasformyinformationonly,andIhadgonetheremerelytosatisfymycuriosity becausetheopportunityoffereditself.Itsoundedtoocomplicatedtome.Ididnot thinkthattheywouldbelieveawordofit. Thelittlefellowwasgettingmorebusinesslikenow,andnotbotheringtofrighten meanymore.(Iwasfrightenedenough.) 'Whereisthefilmandcamera?' 'AtSaoRaimundo.' HehadSamuelinandtoldhimtotakemetothepriest'shousetogetthecamera andfilm,'todosascosas''allthethings'andbringmeback. Itwasdarkandwet,butnotraining.AsthecarrattledacrosstownSamueltalked alittle,gentleasever,protestedthatheknewIwasinnocentofallwrongdoing, andletmethink. Whatdidtheymeanby'allthethings'?WasSamuelgoingtosearchmy belongings?SomehowIhadtogetthoseotherdocumentshidden,buthow? Whenwearrived,fateseemedtobegoingmywayatlast.Thehousewasempty andlocked,butIknewwherethekeytothebackdoorwaskept.Imuttered somethinganddashedroundthesideofthehousewhileSamuelwaitedpatiently formetocomethroughandopenthefrontdoorforhim.OnmywayIgotthe moneybeltfrommyroomand,lookingaroundwildlyforahidingplace,slidit

undertherefrigeratorinthediningroom.ItneveroccurredtomethatImightnot bebackthateveningtorecoverit. IletSamuelinandunderhisgazeIcollectedmycamerasandsixrollsoffilmthat IhadshotinAfrica.Heshowedlittleinterestinanythingelse,andIwishedIhad hiddenthefilmaswell.Beforeweleft,FatherWalshreturnedandItoldhimwhat washappening.Heshowedonlypoliteinterest,andIcouldhardlyblamehim.I wantedhimtostaydetached,buthisapparentindifferencedeepenedmygloom, nonetheless. AtthevillaIwastakentotheheadofthepoliticaldepartment,notoriousinBrazil bytheacronymDOPS.Anelegantmanloungedbackinarevolvingchairandput hisfingertipstogether.Hehadformedtheunnecessaryideathatmymeetingwith thepriestshadbeensomehowsecretlyprearranged.Heaskedmetoexplainthe films.Fiveofthemwere Kodachrome,andcouldnotbedevelopedinBrazil.Itoldhimwheretheyhad beentaken.Then,tomyastonishment,heaskedmetowriteoutmymother's Christiannames.HedictatedaseriesofmessagestoBrasiliaandInterpoland, stillthroughFranziska,saidIwouldhavetowaituntilhegotrepliestohis enquiries.'Maybethisevening,'shesaid. Anorderlytookmebacktotheentrancehallwhereanagentwasalwaysonduty, andthenthroughsomelouvereddoorsintoalargeoffice.Therewereseveral desksandfilingcabinetsandanelectricfan.Twootherdoorways,barredby lockedwroughtirongates,ledtothestreetandtoabackyard.Theagentinthe hallcouldcommunicatewiththeofficethroughashutteredhatchinthewall.The floor,Inoticed,wastiledandslopedgentlytowardsadraininthemiddle.Looking upIsawthattheroofwasreallyjustacanopyraisedthreefeetabovethewalls, andthattheroommusthaveoncebeenanopenpatio. Theofficewasobviouslyinuse,thoughitspeoplehadgonehome,andIwas alone.SomewherenearbyIcouldhearatelexmachine,andaloudspeaker emittedmessagesinPortugueseoranoccasionalburstofMorseallinterwoven withcracklesandhowlsofstatic. Theorderlycamebackafterhalfanhourwithasmallchippedenameldishofrice andbeans.Thereweresomefragmentsofchickenandboneamongtherice. EventuallytheDOPSinspectorcametoconfirmthatIwouldbethereforthe night.Hepointedtothecornerwherethereweresomecollapsiblebedswith strawmattresses.Hewaspolitebutcurt,andleftquickly. Icouldnotdecidewhethermysituationwasmildlyinconvenientorextremely serious.Itriedhardtodivinehowitwouldseemtothem.Onthefaceofit,itwas ridiculoustosupposethatIwouldhaveriddenamotorcyclethelengthofAfricain ordertoengageinaspyingmissioninBrazil.Buthowwouldtheyconfirmthe truth?AndforallIknewtheymightfindthetruthevenmoreridiculous.Inmy presentpositionevenIfoundtheideaoftravellingroundtheworldona motorcycleashadeabsurd. Iwasdeterminedtoremainoptimistic.Afterall,Ihadbeenarrestedbeforein similarcircumstances,onceinTunis,twiceinAlexandria,andeachtimeIwas turnedlooseagainverysoon.And,damnit,Iwasinanofficewasn'tI,andnot moulderinginacell?YetevenduringtheshorttimethatremainedbeforeI thoughtIcouldreasonablyhopetosleep,Ifoundmyselfbeingsuckedintoa vortexofspeculationwhichseemedtodragmealwaysdowntowardsdoubtand fear.

Astheeveningworeontherewasanothercrashingdownpourofrain.Some splashedinundertheroof,someroseupthroughthedrain,andwaterrushed andgurgledallroundtheroomandunderthefloorasthoughwewerebeing swepttosea.IheardlaterthatitwastheheaviestfallofrainthatFortalezahad knowninsixtyyears. Itwasasurprisinglyuncomfortablenight.IhadonlytheclothesIhadarrivedin. Myjeanswerestilldamp,myshoesandsocksalmostwet,andmyshirtsticky withtheday'ssweat.Twowallsoftheofficeweresaturatedwithmoisturebythe deluge.Theopendoorsandroofencouragedanightbreezewhich,normally, wouldbeablessingbutwasacurseforme.Thoughtherewasamattressthere wasnosortofcover.Themovingairwascold,andtheexposedpartsofmybody werechilledevenfurtherbyevaporation.Isleptonlyforminutesatatime,with thenoisesfromtheradioroomdistortingmydreamsintonightmareshapes. EventuallyIputanothermattressontopofmybody.Ithelpedabit,stiffasitwas, butcoveredmewithafinestrawdustwhichstucktomydampclothesandskin. InthemorningIfeltgreyandunappetizing.Anorderlytookmetoabathroom wheretherewasashowerbutnotowelorsoap.Thereweresomescrapsof lavatorypapertodryon,buttheydidnotgofar.Itwasuselesstoaskfor anything,foritwasalltooeasyforthemtobrushmeoffwithablank, uncomprehendingstare.Ididnotfeelstrongenoughtomakeademonstration, thinkingthatquietdignitymightservemebetter.Iexpectedtobefreeagainthat day. So,onanemptystomach,Iwatchedthestaffdriftintotheoffice. ThePoliciaFederal,itseemedtome,waslikeaBrazilianFBIstaffedbyagentes, menandwomeninplainclotheswithareasonableeducationwhodrewgood salariesandwereencouragedtostudyforhigherqualifications.Isawthemmore oftenwithtextbooksthanwithguns,butthegunwasalwaystuckedaway somewhereinawaistbandorapurse,andthetextbooksusuallydealtwith subjectsofaslightlyMachiavelliannaturelike'MassCommunicationsinthe ModernState.' TheuniformedpoliceinBrazil,asinmostLatinAmericancountries,wasata muchlowerlevel,staffedlargelybysemiliterateruffianswhobusiedthemselves withpettycrime,extortionandgratuitousviolenceTheagenteswereaboveall thatandhadamoresophisticatedfunctionincontrollingfraud,smuggling,drugs, vice,forgeryandsoon,butIwasconcernedmorewithitsotherjobofenforcing thepoliticalrepressionofBrazilonbehalfofthearmy. Brazilwasadictatorshipruledbyarmygenerals.Theirmainpriorityaftertaking powerin1964wastodepoliticizethecountry,meaningtostopanyoneengaging in,ortalkingabout,oreventhinkingpolitics.Football,yestheSamba,siPolitics, ninetymilliontimesNo.Politicaloppositiontothegeneralswaspunishedby imprisonment,deportation,tortureanddeath. Naturallysuchagovernmentwouldwatchmostcarefullyoveranarea likethestateofCeara,wheresomanyhadsolittletoloseandwheretheremight berealpotentialforsubversionandrevolt.ItwasintothishightensiongridthatI hadstumbledofftheZoGinmyoutlandishdress,withmystrangevehicle,my cameras,mytelexmessages,myquixoticmission,mypassportfullofArabictext conveyinghintsofterrorism,andmymuchadvertisedpromenadeintotheinterior. Facingthedoor,withmybacktothewall,Iwatchedtheagentesassemble aroundme.Therewasabitterhumourinmypredicament,andImadethemost

ofit.Whichofthem,Iwondered,wouldbetheonetopulloutmyfingernailsor attachelectrodestomygenitals?Whataboutthatfreshfacedyoungfellowover thereintheskybluepantsandfawnshirtwiththetidyauburnhair?Iwatchedhim setdownapileofbooks,drawasmallautomaticfromunderhisshirtfrontand popitinhisdrawer,perchonebuttockontheedgeofthedeskand,rather stylishly,lightacigaretteswinginghiswellshodfoot.Surelynot! Orthisoldermanwiththewavygreyhair,thecomfortablepaunchandthefaceof afamilydoctorwhosatatthedeskmarked'TOXICOS'?Ridiculous!Ibecame fascinatedbythisunusualviewofhumanity.Wasanyofthemcapableofreal menace?Itwouldn'tbethegirlacrosstheroom,typing.Shewasthecomplement toFranziska:shorter,fairer,plumpandsoftlyappealing. Well,howaboutthefellowattheDOPSdesk?Surelyhewouldbemyman.The DepartmentofPoliticalandSocialOrderablandtitlefortheadministrationof terrorandthumbscrews.HewasanothermanofmainlyEuropeandescent, probablyGerman.Iwatchedhimtalkandsmile,watchedhisblueeyesand,tomy disgust,IfoundIlikedhim. Icouldkeepthegameupnolonger.Theyalllookedlikereasonablepeople.More thanthat,therewassomethingfamiliaraboutthem,theirrestlessness,atouchof vanity,asubduedenergysuggestingthattheywerejustmarkingtime,thattheir realbusinesswaselsewhere.Theparallelcametomeimmediately.Itwasthe officeofadailynewspaperwhereIhadonceworkedaroomfulofreporters fiddlingreluctantlywiththeirexpensesheets,waitingtobesentonajob.The comparisonwasfaultlessandratherdisturbing.Clearlytherewaslittletofear fromthesepeople,theyweretheglamorous,acceptableandperhapsnaiveface ofthemachine.IfIneededtorturingtherewouldbespecialiststodothejob, somewhereelse.FromthecorridorIhadalreadynoticedstepsandanopenwell leadingtoagloomybasementareawhereIimaginedthecellstobe.HurriedlyI putthemoutofmymind. TheagentsbehavedasthoughIwereinvisible,andIguessedtheywereusedto findingallsortsofriffrafflodgedthereforthenight.Ihated,hungryandfilthyasI was,tobepresentamongagroupofwelldressed,freshlywashedand breakfastedpeoplegatheringfortheirmorning'swork,tobetotallyignoredby them,tohavetosubmittothestatusofan'untouchable'andyetbeobligedby feartoremainandendureitinsilence.Ilearnedararelessoninthenatureof serfdom. ThechairshadallbeenseizedandIwasforcedtostand.Aftertwohours frustrationmademereckless.Aroughfeaturedsergeantfigurehadcomeinfrom timetotimeandfinallyItoldhim,asbestIcould,thatIwantedtoseethe inspector.Hedismissedmewiththeusualgruntandturnedtowardsthedoor. Incensed,Ifollowedhim,insistingloudly.Heturnedagain,hisfaceworkingwith rage,andshovedmebackagainstthewall,roaring'fica!'Thenheperformeda brilliantmimewhichdemonstratedinafewsecondsthatIwasaspywhotook photographsandthereforebeneathcontempt. Nobodyintheroomappearedtohavenoticedanythinguntoward.Myhopes slippedevenfurther. Thentherewasabreak.First,anorderlycameinwithatrayofcoffees,andthe agentnearestmeofferedmeacup.Andthen,suddenly,IanDall,theEnglishman fromAntonioSa'shouse,cameinwiththeDOPSinspector.Hewalkedstraight acrosstomeandshookmyhand.

'I'vecometohelpwithyourstatement,'hesaid.'Theythoughtitwouldbebetter thatitwouldbebetteriftheFathersstayedawayfromit.Theyhopeyou understand.Howareyou?Areyoualright?' Heseemedreluctanttosaymore.ItriedtotellhimhowIwas.Itwasimpossible. Somehowitalltranslatedinto'notbad'.Anyway,allthemiseryoftheprevious sixteenhoursliftedatthepleasureofseeinghim. 'Doyouknowwhat'sgoingon?'Iaskedhim.'Aretheygoingtoletmego?Ican't makeoutwhat'shappening.It'sterriblenotbeingabletotalktoanyone.Ican't evengetbreakfast...'Iheardmyselftalkinganditbegantosoundrather pathetic,soIstopped. Tthinkitwillbealright,'hesaid.'Theydon'tseemveryconcerned.Iexpectitwill beoversoon.' Wewalked,acivilizedlittlegroupofthree,totheInspector'soffice.Wemightjust aswellbewalkingoutintothestreet,Ithought,sowhydon'tI?ButIdidn't.There wasalotoftalkingandrepetition,andtheInspectorpassedseveralsheetsof longhandtoasecretaryandthentookustoabiggerofficewherethe Superintendent,DottoreXavier,loungedinabiggerrevolvingchairwitharmrests. ThismanevidentlyspokesomeEnglish,andenjoyedpractisingphrases,butfor themostpartIantranslatedfromthePortuguese.Hemadeaneloquent statementaboutsecurityandhisroleinprotectingBrazilfromtheinternational conspiracyoftheCommunistpress.IsaidtheSundayTimeswouldhardlybe consideredpartofaCommunistconspiracy.Hemadesomereferencetohe MondewhichIanfoundunnecessarytotranslate. 'Mr.Simonwillhavetostayuntilwehaverepliestoourenquiries.''AmIunder arrest,orwhat?'Iasked. 'Youareonlydetained,'hesaid.'Youwillhavefullprivileges.''Whatprivileges? Howaboutstartingwithbreakfast?'ThegoodDoctorappearedshockedthatI hadmissedmybreakfast.Why,hedeclared,Icouldbetakenouttorestaurants formealsifIwished.Ihadonlytoask.Andpolicemenwouldbuythingsforme, likecigarettesorsandwiches.Ihadonlytogivethemthemoney.Andyes,Icould haveclothesandwashingarticlesbroughtfromSaoRaimundo.Andofcoursethe BritishConsulwouldbetold.Indeedthisveryfriend,SenhorDall,wouldnodoubt performthatservicestraightaway.OnemighthavethoughtIhaddeliberately chosentosulkinacornerinsteadofcomingouttohavefunwiththerestofthe boys. 'Thetroubleis,'saidIan,ThavetogobacktoMaranhao.Mybusleavesinthree hours'time.'Myyoyoheartfloppedagain.'ButIwillmanageitsomehow.There isaViceConsulhere.He'samarinebiologistcalledMatthews.I'lldomybest. Thepolicehavealreadyofferedtodrivemetothebusstationtosavetime.' Icouldnothelpmyspiritsrisingoncemore.Theyhadfallensolowthattheyflew correspondinglyhigh.Somenoticeseemedtohavebeentakenofmeatlast.I wasanindividualagain,withrightsandanidentity.WereturnedtotheInspector's officewherethetypedstatementwaswaitingformysignature.Iantranslatedit, anditseemedalright.Prominentinthefirstparagraphweremymother'sChristian names,correctlyspelled.Therewerethreepagesintriplicate,ninesignaturesin all.Itookapentothefirstpageandfound,tomyhorror,thatitwententirelyout ofmycontrolandproducedanunrecognizablescribble.Ihadtoworkveryhardto getmysignatureback,andeventhenIthoughtitlookedmorelikepainstaking

forgery.IwasveryawarethattheInspectorseemedtoregardthisasquite normal. AsIanlefthetriedtoencouragemeagain,butIfelthisuncertainty.Tthinkitwill soonbeover,'herepeated. Iwasputbackinthegeneraloffice.Itwaslunchtime.Thestaffbegantodrift away.Iwaitedforsomeonetotakemetolunch.Theroomemptied.Anorderly camewithadishofriceandbeans.Thistimetherewasnochicken. Twanttogoout,'Isaidangrily.'Where'stheSuperintendent?'Theorderly shruggedandleft.Mymoralecollapsedyetagain.Itwasalllies,thatstuffabout privileges,meals,clothes,alltalktosweetentheEnglishman.Allfantasyjustto getmystatementandsendIanDallonhisway.Dallwasmylastchanceof contactwiththeoutsideworld,andhewastakingabustoaplacehundredsof milesawayontheAmazon.Whatcouldhesaytothepoliceiftheytookhimtothe busandsaid:LeavetheConsultous.'Nothing.Andthepriests?Whatcouldthey do?Nothing. ThedoorhadbeenleftopenandIsawtheSuperintendentcomingdownthe corridor.Ishoutedathimandhesurprisedmebycomingin. 'Don'tyoulikeourhomecooking?'heaskedsilkily.Itwasarhetoricalquestion. Hissmilewasveryclosetoasneer,andheleftquickly.Iwasspeechlesswith blackfury.Thefoodwasirrelevant.Itstruckmeforciblyafterhehadgonethat eveniftheprisonservedtrufflesandcaviarIwouldprefertobeoutforfive minutestobuymyownriceandbeans.Thereisnorelishlikefreedom. Iwasheavilyinclinedtoexpecttheworst,andwhenastrangeagentecamefor meintheafternoonandtookmedownthosegrimstepstothebasementIreally thoughttheworstwasabouttohappen.Butitwasonlytohavephotographand fingerprintstaken. 'Doyouplaythepiano?'askedtheagente,withagrin.Perhapsitwasmeantasa compliment,butIcouldhearitonlyasathreatconjuringupanimageofbroken fingers. Theagentwhotookmyphotographtoldmehappilythathehaddevelopedmy pictures.'Verynice,'hesaid,'goodpictures.'Aswewalkedupthestairsanother manstoppedonhiswaydown,andgrinned.Everythingwasajoketothese fellows. 'Youwillbedeported,'hesaid.Thaveseenyourpassport.Visaiscancelled.' AstheafternoondraggedonItriedtounderstandwhatwashappening.Myreal problemwasthatIhadnowayofknowingwhatwaslikely,noexperienceofthe country,nofeelforthewaythingsusuallyhappenedthere.OntheotherhandI didknowthatanythingwaspossible.Theycouldfreemeor,iftheywantedto, theycouldkillme.Therewasnopointindenyingit.Thequestionthereforewas: 'Whyshouldtheywanttokillme?'Notgratuitously.Thatwouldbehardlyworth thetroubleitmightcause.Iftheywantedtogetridofmetheywouldsimplydeport me,asthatlastagenthadpromisedtheywould,butforsomereasonIwasnot readytobelievethat,quite. No,IhadraisedthespectreofdeathandnowIwouldhavetodealwithit.They wouldkillmeeitherbymistake,ortocoverupsomethingelse.Theyseemedto believeIwasonsomekindofrevolutionarymission.Theywouldlookfor evidence.Theywouldfindnothingconclusive,fortherewasbuttheywouldturn upthehiddenpassportandthatwouldexcitetheirsuspicionsevenmore.Sothey wouldcometomeforevidence.Iwouldhavetodenyit.Icouldn'tinventitifI

tried.Theywouldhavetousetorture.Thattoowouldbeamiserablefailure.And then?Itmightwellbetooembarrassingtoletmegoeasierbyfartofeignan accident,sayIdisappeared,ratherthanhavemeflyhometotellmystory. DuringthefollowingtwentyfourhoursIcouldconceiveofonlytwopossibilities:I wouldbedeported,orIwouldbetorturedandkilled.AstimepassedIbecame increasinglypessimistic.Icouldgetnobodytotalktomeorlistentothesimplest request.Thestaffleftforhome.Igotanotherbowlofriceandbeans,andthen... nothing.BytheendoftheeveningIknewmyattempttoreachtheConsulhad failed,andtheimplicationsofthatwereoverwhelming.Itbecameimpossiblethen tobelievethatthewaytheyweretreatingmewasmerelythroughaccidental neglect.Ithadtobedeliberate.Icouldnolongeraccusemyselfofparanoia. Thewallswerestillsoaking.Duringthedayitwasnotnoticeable.AfternightfallI begantofreezeagain.BymorningIwasshivering,slightlyfeverishandhada cold.ItwasSaturday,andastheminutesbuiltupintohoursIrealizedthatthe officewouldbeemptyfortheweekend. Isearchedforanymeanstorelievethemonotony.Itriedtorecitepoetry,andwas appalledbyhowlittleIcouldremember.Icountedthetitlesonthewallsandon thefloor(includingfractions).Itriedtoworkoutafeasibleplanofescape.It occurredtomethatthismightbeexpectedofme(fromthetopofafilingcabinetI mighthaveclamberedoverthewall,butintowhatIhadnoidea).Ibegantolook forsecretsurveillance,aclosedcircuitTVlens,perhaps.AllthetimeIwasaware ofmyfearsbeingalmostentirelyselfinduced,andthatinitselfmadethings worse,forIcouldnotshakethemoff. Realterrorcameovermeinwaves,aboutonceanhour.IfoundIcouldnot sustainitanymorethanIcouldsustainhope.Mythoughtsmightbemercifullyfar awayandthensometrickofthemindwouldproduce,say,amentalglimpseof thelumpyfacedpolicemanonhishandsandkneesatSaoRaimundowithhis handsunderthefridgeandsuddenlysweatwouldpouroffmeasthethought carriedmeontounmentionableconsequences. AfterseveralhoursofthisFranziskacameintotheofficeandsaidshewantedto practiseherEnglish.Icouldhaveexplodedattheabsurdityofit,butIwasfartoo suspicious.Everyquestionsheaskedseemedloaded.ThoughIwasgratefulfor thedistractionandwantedtobelieveinhergoodwill,Idarednot.Shebroughtout atubeofVitaminCtabletsandofferedmesome.Irefused.Godknowswhat mightbeinthem,Ithought.Shepromisedtoaskaboutbeingtakenouttolunch andabouttheConsul,butwhensheleftthericeandbeanscameasusual,and silence. Thesilencewasbrokeninmidafternoonbyanotherstrangeevent.Theradio startedagreatnoiseofwhoopsandwailsandcrackling,asthoughsomeonehad justturnedupthevolume.Thenavoicespoke,loudlyamplified,veryslowly, repeatingeverythinginphrasessothatevenIcouldunderstandmostofit. 'Wehavethefilmsofthecoastitsaid. (Myblackandwhiterollincludedpicturesofthecoasttakenfrom ZoG.) 'Marcello...TheEnglishman...toRio...deportacao.' UptothatmomentIhadkeptalivealastflickerofhopethatmydangerwasall imaginary.Atthispointitdied.NotonlyhadtheyapparentlydeportedFather Marcello,buttheyhadwantedmetoknowit. Fromthenonadramaticchangecameovermyhecticmentallife.Itfeels immodest,evendistastefultosay,aftertheevent,whenIamstillsomuchalive,

thatIpreparedmyselffordeath,butthatisundoubtedlywhatIdid.Thereseemed nopurposeintryingtoguessanymore.Imightaswellmakemymindupaboutit, bereadytohandleitaswellaspossible. Deathitself,Isoonrealized,wasnotsuchabadprospect.InawayIhadinvitedit byembarkingonthisjourney,andcouldhardlycomplain.Mylife,whenIthought aboutit,hadbeenfullofinterest.Notaveryfinishedlife,perhaps,butevolving nicelyallthetime,alwayschangingandgenerally,Ithought,forthebetter.Itwas notreallydeaththatbotheredmethen. Itwaspain. Bychance,onthebookshelfatSaoRaimundo,IhadfoundacopyofGraham Greene'sTravelswithmyAuntandreadit.Greene'sstuffysuburbanherofinds himselfseizedinadvertentlybythepoliceinParaguay.Apolicemanhitshim,but hescarcelyfeelsit.Thentherefollowsasentencewhich,inmyhypersensitive state,Imusthavestoredforemergencies. 'Physicalviolence,likethedentist'sdrill,isseldomasbadasonefears.' Asasentimentitmightnotseemveryreliable,norspeciallyemphatic.Thepoint was,though,itwasapieceofobjective,dispassionateadvice.Itwasnotapiece ofmyownfeveredimagination,andIbuiltonitasonarock.Icontemplatedthe possibilitythatthefearoftorturemightbeworsethanthetortureitself,andit seemedpossible.Andgiventhelaughablefollyofdoingthetorturer'sworkfor him,Imanagedsomehowjusttoletthefeargo.InsteadIcomposedaletterto someoneIlovednotaverygoodletter,Irealizedafterwards,foritwas surprisinglyfullofclichsandbanalities,butitbroughtadeliciouscalmlikethe answertoaprayer.IoweGrahamGreeneagreatdealforthatafternoon. Mynewlyfoundcomposurecontinued.Iseemedtohavediscoveredawayto endure,andIwatchedmyselfcarefullytoavoidslippingbackintotheoldspasms ofhopeanddespair.Afewhourslater,wellafterdark,Iwasseatedatadesk, studyingscrapsofPortugueseonthewastepaperfromthebins,whenthehatch slidopenandafaceappeared.Itwasasquarishfacewithagingerybeardand hair,andaweatherbeatencomplexion. 'British?'itasked. 'Yes,'Ireplied,surprised. 'Matthews,'itsaid.'BritishConsul.' ForaninstantIbelieveIactuallyresentedhisinterference.Itwasastunning shock. 'Howdoyoudo,'Isaid,and'Won'tyoucomein?'and'I'mverygladtoseeyou,' andotherfoolishphrases.Thenthereliefandjoysweptthroughmeliketidal waves. Itwasridiculous.Itmademelongtolaugh.Thissmall,bristling,uprightmanhad pokedhisheadthroughahatch,andIwasdelivered.ThroughhimIwasjoined againtotheworldIknew,aworldinwhichIhadacertainvalue,whereefforts wouldbemadeonmybehalf.Icouldnolongervanishwithouttrace.Ihad condemnedmyselftodeathoncircumstantialevidenceandtheHonoraryVice Consulhadbroughtmyreprieve.TheveryfactthatthepolicehadallowedIan DalltogethismessagetoMatthewsmeantthatallmyfearsmightprove groundless.Iwasrestoredtolifeanditwasamostbewilderingexperience.I stoodblinkinginthelightlikeanynewlyhatchedcreature. HenryMatthewswasplainlynottheretobecomeenmeshedinanemotional drama.Hewasabusy,practicalmanwhohadjustreturnedtoFortalezaaftera

longandtiringjourney.Hewasdeterminedtodohisdutyandthen,assoonas possible,togetbacktosupperandbedwithhisfamily. Westoodbyoneofthedesksunderafluorescenttube,andasIlookedaround my'prison'itbecameagainjustapleasant,clean,welllitofficeinwhichIhad spenthardlyfortyeighthours. ForawhileIcouldnotthinkwhattosay.Iwantedtodescribethefear,the humiliation,thedespairthatIhadsufferedinthere,andIknewitwasimpossible. Imightaswellhavelaunchedintoanaccountofabaddream.ToMatthewsit wouldsurelybequiteincredibleandIwasafraidoflosinghissympathy.SoI stuck,asbestIcould,tothefacts,explainingwhoIwasandwhereIhadcome from. 'IwillseewhatIcanfindoutMatthewssaid,andlefttheoffice.Iwatchedthrough thehatchashetelephonedtheSuperintendentathome.Hewaspolitebutnot obsequious,andIawardedhimfullmarks.WhenhecamebackInoticed,forthe firsttime,thathisEnglishwasheavilyaccented. 'Hesaysitissomethingverybig.HewillexplainittomeonMonday.' Myfears,itseemed,werenotgroundlessafterall.Therewassomeconsolationin that. 'Hesaysyouhavefullrightsandprivileges...'Icouldnotrestrainthecynical smile...butunfortunatelyyoumustwaitfortheoutcome. 'Iwillcomebacktovisityoutomorrow,butisthereanythingyouneednow?' Itwaskindofhim.Hewouldhavelikeddearlytoputmeoffuntilthenextday. ThereweremanythingsIwantedbadlyacleanshirt,atowel,ashave,acoverto sleepunder,bookstoread,papertowriteon,drysocks,butIcouldnot concentratemymindsufficientlytorememberwheretheywouldbe.Ibegged MatthewstogotoSaoRaimundofetchmyredbag,hopingthatwhatIwanted wouldbeinsideit,becausewhatIcravedmostofallwasnewsfromthepriests' house,toknowwhathadhappenedthereandtoFatherMarcello. DutifullyMatthewstoiledouttoSaoRaimundoandback.OfallthethingsI wanted,thebagcontainedonlymyrazor.However,thenewswasasgoodasit wasbaffling.Nopolicehadbeentothehouse,andFatherMarcellohadcertainly notbeendeported.Matthewspromisedtoreturnnextdaywithbooksandatowel, andIlaydownforthethirdnightinthesameshirtandtrousers. Nextmorningthehourspassedasslowlyasever.Thedampnesswasgetting deeperintomenow,andthefeverandcongestionwereworse.Despitethat,the Consul'sarrivalhadstimulatedmyimaginationagain,andoncemoreIcouldfind noescapefromdoomladenspeculations. OnreflectiontheConsul'sarrivalseemedlessofamiracle.Itriedtodrawupa newbalancesheetofmyprospects.Onthecreditside,thepolicewerenotafter alltryingtokeepmypresencethereasecret.Butthen,whyshouldthey?They werethelaw.Iftheyneededapretextforholdingme,theywouldhaveno problemfindingone.Iftheywantedtoimplicatemeinsomesortofconspiracy obviouslytheycoulddoso.MytriptoIguatugavethemplentyofammunition. BynowIwasbeginningtowonderwhethertherewasmoregoingoninIguatu thantheaftereffectsofaflood.Perhapstherereallyweresmallcentresof resistancetotheregime,strugglingtosurvive.Andwherebetterthaninadisaster area?

Andthoseradiomessages?Ihadnotimaginedthem,withtheirreferencestoan 'ingles'andMarcelloanddeportation.Theymustmeansomething.Whythe concernwith'photographsofthecoast'?Weretheyafraidofforeignintervention? FromCuba,perhaps. Irecalledtheagentonthecellarstepsandhisoffhandremarkabouthavingseen myvisacancelled.Itsimplydidnotsoundlikealie.Whyonearthshouldhehave inventedalielikethat?DidthatmeanthatthebestIcouldhopeforwas deportation?Yettherehadstillbeennoattempttoquestionmefurther.Andmost mysteriousofall,theyhadshownnointerestwhateverinmybelongings.They hadmypassport,butmyaddressbooksandpapers,carriedopenlyinthesame wallet,theyhad ignored.Surelyiftheysuspectedmeofconspiracywith'subversivos'theywould atleastgothroughthemotionsofexaminingmyaddressbooks.Noneofitmade sense. SeveraltimesIhadthestrangeimpressionofbeingtwoquitedistinctpeopleone innocentandtheotherguilty.Asthoughitwere,inasense,myownchoicethat woulddecidethematter.ItriedtoremembermoreclearlysomethingIhadreador heardabouttherebeingpeoplewhowere'torturable'andotherswhowere 'untorturable'.WasitKafka?OroneoftheRussians?Nomatter.Idecidedto devotemyselftobeinginnocentanduntorturable.AndimmediatelyIstumbled overmyownguiltysecret,whichwasthepassportunderthefridge. AthousandtimesIcursedtheimpulsetoputitthere.Theprospectofthepolice cominguponitinasearchwassodisturbingthatIevenconsideredconfessingits existencevoluntarily. Whatstoppedmewasanevenmoreawfulprospect.Supposethemaidinthe meanwhilehadsweptthediningroomandcomeacrossthebelt.Andhandeditto Walsh.Andwhatifhe,then,haddecidedtohideitelsewhereonmybehalf.What thenwouldthepolicethinkif,afterall,itwasnolongerthere?Wouldnotthat indicatetheverythingIwasmostafraidof,evidenceofaconspiracyinvolvingthe priests?Iabsolutelydarednottaketheriskofimplicatingthem.Duringallthe timeIwasheldbythepolice,theonethingwhichconstantlyunderminedallmy resolutionwastheimageofthathiddenpackagebeingdiscovered. Matthewscameatlunchtimeashehadpromised,bringingbooksandatowel.I rackedmybrainstothinkofwaystoprofitbyhispresence,astheunderprivileged dowhengivenbriefaccesstopower.Idarednottellhimaboutthesecond passport,soatlastIrecalledtheSuperintendent'sfacilepromisethatIshouldgo todineinrestaurants.Itstruckmethenasaludicrousidea,asfutiletopropose asajourneytothemoon,andIexpectedhimtolaughwhenImentionedit,buthe tookitupimmediatelywiththeagentinthehallandagainIwatchedtheirfaces throughthehatch. Theagent,whohadneverevenglancedatmebefore,turnedtomewithasmile ofelectrifyingsincerityandsaid'ofcourse'and'whydidn'tyoumentionitearlier?' Iwasastonished.Iwalkedoutintothesunshineandexperiencedforthesecond timeintwentyfourhoursashockofecstasy.Thesunreacheddirectlyintomy bones.Ifeltthemoistureboilingoffmyclothesandskin.Thereliefwas overwhelming,andonlythencouldImeasuretheeffectofthedampnessinthe building. Toanyonecomingandgoingmycomplaintsmighthaveseemedhysterical, thoughthecoldandthefeverwererealenough.Itcameasarevelationtome

thatrealphysicalandmentalharmcouldbeinflictedonaperson,quitesubtly,in the'nicest'circumstance,whilecivilizedobserverswouldseenothingparticularly wrong.Iwasluckytohavehadonlyatasteofit. Theagente,frombeingafacelessguard,turnedintoagenialfamilymanrecently transferredfromRio.Heseemedgenuinelyanxioustopleaseandaskedme whereIwantedtoeat. 'Fish,'Isaid,'somewhereonthebeach.' Inhiscarwedrovetothecoastsouthofthecity,toabusyrestaurantona terrace.Iwascrazywithdelightatthesoundofvoicesaroundme,thetraffic,the cleanlinen,thesearollinginonthesand.Theagenteimpressedmeevenmore bypayingforhisownmeal.Thecoldbeer,'estupidamentegelada'whichwe shared,Itookonmybillwithpleasure.Initsway,thatlunchofsoup,grilledfish, friedpotatoes,saladandcoffeewasthegrandesttreatIhaveeverhadorhopeto haveinmylife. Italsomarkedthebeginningofanewphaseinmyprisonlife.Matthews'real valuewasthathehadbrokentheicetheagentesbegantotakeaninterestinme and,atthesametime,IpickedupafewwordsofPortugueseandlearnedtosing themsothatIwouldbeunderstood. ThebooksMatthewshadbroughtmewereAgathaChristiespublishedinthe twenties,andheldtogetherbytransparenttape.Idevouredthemallinanonstop orgytogivemyrestlessmindabreak,andfellbackgorgedontothebedwiththe tasteofHerculePoirot'sbrilliantinestillonmychops.OnMondayMatthews returned,andthistimehebroughtclothes,asheetandsomemoreseriousbooks fromSaoRaimundo.Iwasableatlasttochangemyshirtforacleanoneafter fourdaysandnights,andtoplungeintoahistoryoftheDeclineoftheSpanish Empire. Predictably,XavierhadnothingveryremarkabletotellMatthewsafterallexcept thattheyweredeterminedtohangontome.Iwasstillunabletogetbreakfast.At midday,Iwasbroughtasmalldishofriceandbones,andagainIprotested loudly,butthistimeFranziskawastheretohelpme.Finallyoneoftheyounger agentes,calledDaniel,waspersuadedtotakemeintotown,andFranziskacame along.Fromthenon,forawhile,Ihadnomoredifficultygoingout.Anditwas aboutthistime,too,thatIknewFranziskawaswatchingmewithmorethan ordinaryinterest.Itwasthehardestthingtojudge. Duringthefirstdays,whenIimaginedmyselftobeundersentenceofdeath,or worse,Ifoundhercuriosityaboutmeobscene.Itoffendedmethatagoodlooking girlwithaguninherhandbagandalmostunlimitedpowerovermyfate(asI imagined)couldexpectmetoswaggerandcrowoverherfavours.Nowthatmy fearswererecedingandIfeltthebloodflowingabitwarmerthroughmyveinsI wasintriguedbutextremelycautious. Itwasimpossibletoknowwhethershewasactingonherowninitiative,or someoneelse's,orbothandtheconfusionstifledtheexcitementImighthave felt.Asthedaysdraggedonshewouldcomein,oftenatoddhourswhenthe officewasalmostempty,andquestionmeaboutEnglandorotherplacesIhad seen.Iknewthatmyanswerswerenotwhatinterestedhermost,thatherreal interestwasmorepersonal,butthegameseemedfullofdangerandIdarednot eventhinkaboutplayingit.

Instead,asthenoveltyofmynewprivilegesworeoffandIbecameincreasingly angryandfrustratedatthewasteofmydays,itwasshewhoborethebruntofmy bitterness.Sheseemedauthenticallysurprisedbymycomplaints. 'Whyareyousoangry?'sheasked.'Itisgoingwellforyou.Youwillbefreesoon, Ithink.''WhenwillIbefree?'Iaskedharshly.Tdon'tknow.Iamnotinvolvedin yourcase.' 'ThenhowcanyouknowI'llbefree?'Isaidwithfinecontempt,refusingtheoffer likeonewhohasbeenfooledtoooften. Tdon'tknow.Wecantell.Daniel,theothers,theyallthinkso.'AlmostasthoughI wereamedicalcaseshowingsignsofremission. Shealwayslookedmestraightintheeye.Shewasneverdemureorevasive.At anyothertimeIwouldhaveknownshewastellingthetruth,butmyinstinctswere warpedandIsawherasSarahBernhardtplayingMataHari. Iwassickandtiredofcopingwithmyfearandresentment.Mytwicedaily excursionsintotownnolongerappeasedme.Iwasinarageofimpatience. 'It'sridiculous,'Isaid.'YouknowI'llbefree.Theyknowit.ButhowcanIbelieve you?TheymustknowwhoIambynow.It'sdisgustingtokeepmelockedup here,imprisoned,fornoreason.' Ihadmeantmyoutbursttobeintimidating.Iwouldhavelikedhertoburstinto tears.Butshewassimplyamused. 'Nobodyisfree,'shesaid.'Everyonehasaprison.Wife,parents,children,theyall makeprisons.' Iwasastounded,insulted,tohavemyordealcomparedwithpettydomestic trammels,andIrantedonabouttheprinciplesofjusticeandliberty,butmy speecheshadnovisibleeffect.AndIwasfeelingfartooselfrighteoustoaccept thesimple,shockingtruththatshepresentedtome. MatthewscameagainonTuesday,tobetoldoncemorethatthepolicewere waitingforareplytoonelastcable.HetoldmehehadtoleaveFortalezaforfour days.Thesuperintendenthadpromisedthatmycasewouldberesolvedbefore hisreturn. Thatnightacustomshouseclerkjoinedmeincustody.Hewastwentyeight yearsold,frail,timidandveryunhappy.Hetoldmehehadflowninfromatown somewhereuptheAmazonandhadbeendiscoveredwithoutanyidentitypapers. Hesaidhehadleftthemathomebyaccident,andwasworriedbecausehiswife wouldbeexpectinghimbacknextmorning.Itwasremarkablehowmuchwe couldtelleachotherwiththelittlescrapsoflanguagewehadincommon,but afterhisarrivalmygraspofBrazilianimprovedmorerapidly.Hewascalled Ignacio,andhecalledmeTedge.LikemostBrazilianshewasincapableof pronouncingthe'd'inTed'. OnWednesdayIgnaciodevelopedtoothacheandabigswelling,andImadea fussaboutgettinghimtreated,butwithnoeffectotherthantooccupymymind. WhileIwasobviouslynowinfavour,theclerkwasdespisedasapettycriminal. Franziskaknewnothingagainsthimspecifically,butjustfeltsurethathewasup tonogood. Atlunchtimetherewasanunusuallyvigorousburstofactivityintheoffice. Everybody,includingthegirls,wentoutonsomeoperation,allwithguns.The gunswereneatbrownthingswithtinybarrels.Thementuckedthemintheir waistbandsbeneaththeirlooseshirts.Thegirlsputtheirsintheirshoulderbags andteeteredoffonhighheelsinthebesttraditionsoftelevisioncrimeseries.

Franziskalatertoldmeithadtodowithsmuggling,andintheafternoonthree flashilydressedmenjoinedusintheoffice,followedsoonafterwardsbyanegro witheeriepaleeyes.Theyseemedveryboisterousandconfident.Withsix detaineesintheoffice,plusafullstaff,thegameofmusicalchairsbecame hilarious.Evenwithtwoofustoachairtherewerenotsufficient.Astheoldest inhabitantIfeltentitledtoachairofmyown,butintheenditwastoomuch troubletohangontoit,andbyeveningtheintrudershadswaggeredoff,leaving IgnacioandItoourselves. Imadeachesssetfromscrapsofpaperandweplayedanelementarygame. WhenFranziskasawus,sherushedofftofetchasetofdominoesfromheroffice. Shetoldusthattherewasgoingtobeaneclipseofthemoonthatnightjustafter dark.Wesawitclearlythroughthegapbetweentheroofandthewalls,and FranziskaandIstoodandwonderedatit.IcouldnotrememberwhetherIhad everseenonebefore,anditstruckmeasoddthatIshouldseeitinthese circumstances.Therainstormonmyfirstnighttherehadalsoseemedsignificant tome,andIrealizedthatonthisjourney,forthefirsttimeinmylife,Iwas temptedtoconnectunusualnaturalphenomenawithmypersonalfate,thoughI hadnoideahoworinwhichdirectiontheinfluencemightflow. Thentherewasanotherflurryintheoffice,abigbriefingsession,andtheywere alloffagainintothenight. ByThursdaymorning,thingshadprogressedtothepointwhere,whenIwanted togotothebathroomIsimplywalkedoutoftheofficewithoutawordoranescort andwasunchallenged.InprincipleIcouldhaveletmyselfoutofthebackdoorof thekitchenandwalkedaway,thoughit wouldhavebeensupremelysillytodoso.Thenthebarometerswungback suddenlyfromFairtoHorrible.Ithappenedat4.30p.m.afterexactlyaweekin captivity.ThefairblueeyedoperationschiefwhousuallysatattheDOPSdesk hadmovedtoaseatnearthedoor.Iwasstandingnotfaraway,havingagain beentrickedoutofachair.Thenanagentecameinwhowasonlyrarelyseenin theoffice.HewasoneofthetwoagentsIhadnoticedwholookedreallyvicious, theotheronebeingthelumpyfacedfellowwhohadmetmeontheshipand whomIhadneverseensince. ThismanwasanArabwhosefacewasravagedbypockmarks,whichdidnothing tosoftenthemeannessofhismouthortheshiftyglitterinhiseye.Heandthejefe spokeinwhispers,whichcaughtmyattentionstraightaway,foritwasquite unusual.Worsestill,theblueeyeskeptflickingtowardsme,andIwasallowed distinctlytoheartheword'ingles'severaltimes.Ihadalreadybeguntobelieve thatIwaswatchingsomekindofcharade,whentomyamazementtheother horrorwiththelumpyfacewalkedin,completewithdarkglassesandhisweasel facedassistant. Theyallmadeagreatshowofconnivingtogether.UntilthatafternoonIdidnot knowitwaspossibletobeamusedandterrifiedatthesametime.Thejefesaid 'Ingles'and'Passaporte'and'SaoRaimundo'and'Espiao'whichmeans'spy',and 'askthewoman'and'ifitisthere...'andthenhemadeoneofthemosteloquent gesturesinthehumanrepertoire,hescoopedupanimaginaryflyandcrushedit inhisfist.Ididn'tknowwhethertolaughorcry,butadeepdownsenseofthe absurdityofitallsavedmefromdoingeither.Itwasahilariousmelodramawitha chillinglyseriousmessage.Forwhosepassportcouldtheypossiblybeafterat SaoRaimundoifitwerenotmine,andwhowasthespyifnotme?

Thethreevillainsslunkawayintheirtheatricallyappointedmission,andI watchedmyselfcarefullytoseehowIwouldtakethenewthreat.Afterall,Itold myself,thiswaswhereyoucamein.TomyreliefIfoundthatIsimplylackedthe energytobeterrifiedagain.Itwastooexhausting.Ifithappens,letithappen,I thought,andwentbacktoreadinghistory.Fromthenon,althoughIwas expectingpainfulnewsfromSaoRaimundoatanymoment,Iwasabletopush thethoughtfromtheforefrontofmymind.Itwasencouragingtodiscoverthatin copingwithterror,aswithanyotherhumanskill,oneimproveswithpractice. Thejefecamebackintotheofficelater,likeahoundonthescent,askinghisstaff whetheranyonehadheardoforshfam,whichhadtobeOxfampronouncedin Portuguese.Nobodyhad.Ifoundthespectacleutterlycomicalandbeganto wonderwhethertheywerealljustincompetent,butthatthoughtwastoo uncomfortableandIdroppedit.Thenthefusswasoverforthedayandtheyall wenthome. Therewasasimplepolicemanwithamerrydispositionwhosometimestookme outtoeatwhentherewerenoagentestospare.Intheofficeheappearedtohave adoptedmeasapet,andwheneverhesawmeheshouted'taboa'?atme severaltimesintheexaggeratedwaythatonecalls'goodboy'toadog.I humouredhim,ashehumouredme,withalaughorasmile,sinceIcouldn'tbark. Itneveroccurredtohim,I'msure,thatImightonedaylearntospeaktohimand inconsequencehiscompanywasquiteundemandingandpeaceful. Itwasagloriousevening,dryandbright.AswewalkedtowardsthecathedralI smellednightscentedflowersonthebreeze.Thecathedralstoodtwoblocksfrom thepolicestation,amonstrousthingmorelikeafortressthanachurch,builtlong agooutofmillionsofdarkwaferlikebricks.Itwasfarfrombeautiful,butitssize andsquatnessgaveitapowerwhichimpressedmemoreeverytimeIpassed.It overlookedabroadcobbledareawhereseveralroadsmetandmanysmallbars andrestaurantstraded,anditwasherealsothatprostitutesgatheredtowards evening. Myescortknewmostofthewomen.Heshouted'taboa'atthemandthey exchangedfamiliarinsults.Eachtimehewouldturntoshout'taboa'atmetoo,to distributehisgoodnatureevenly.Heledmefirst,onhisinvisiblelead,toasmall brightlylitshopwherebetsweretakenforanationalfootballpoolcalledLoto,and heponderedheavilyoverhiscard,lickinghisfaultyballpenuntilhehadfinally decidedbetweentherivalmeritsofSantosandSaoPaulo.Thenwewentup somestairstothebackofacheapeatinghouseandhewatchedaffablyasIate myfavouritedish,arichdarkporkandbeanstewcalledfeijuada. Whenwecamedownthemoonwasshiningfullontotheblackfacadeofthe cathedral.Besidemeonthedoorstepofabaramanlaybackwithhislegsapart andhiseyesclosedinblissfuldrunkenness.Thegreymaterialofhistrouserswas sothreadbarethatafountainofcrystalurinepassedstraightthroughitandrose upsparklinginthelightofthestreetlamps.Onthepavementstherefugee peasantsfromthefloodedinteriorwerealreadystretchedinsleep,asmotionless asthestonebeneaththem.Somehadpiecesofcardboardtolieon,othersnot. Somelayincouples,backtoback.Somehadafewbelongings,othersnone.All seemedutterlyatpeace,facestranquil,bodiesclassicallycomposedasthough theyhadpaidspecialattentiontotheplacingoftheirshiningbrownlimbsbefore lettingtheworldfadefromsight.

Ilookedoutonthisscene,and,foronce,feltpartofit,notjustanidlespectator. AsaprisonerofthePoliciaFederalIfeltIhadbusinessthere,thoughGodalone knewwhatthatbusinesswouldbe.AtleastIhadcometotermswiththe uncertainty,andtherewassomesatisfactioninthat.Mysensesandmycuriosity werebothsharpened.Nobodywasfeelingsorry forme,andIwasnotobligedtofeelsorryforanyoneelse.IfeltIwaswithinreach ofexperiencingagenuineemotionborn,foronce,outofthemomentitself. Wewalkedacrossthecobblestonesandthepolicemandrewmetotherightso thatwewouldhavetowalkbehindthecathedral.Afterchattingwithanother groupofwomenhebeckonedmetowardssomestonesteps.Therewasamass inprogressinachapelinthecryptofthecathedral.Myfirstviewinsidewaslikea hallucination,asthoughtheroughblackmasonryitselfhadsplittoreveala glimpseofparadise.Aroseateglowwashedoverthepurewhitewallsandlow vaultedroof,andbathedthepriestandhissmallcongregation.Thechapel,inits gleamingsimplicity,wastheoppositeofeverythingthatFortalezahadseemedto metobe.Acoolcleanandinfinitelydesirablevision.Anyonewhocouldenter there,Ithought,wouldleadacharmedlife. Perhapsthatwaswhywestayedoutside.Thepolicemanstoppedatthethreshold andkneltonthesteps,layinghisforeheadonalowstonebuttress.Hewasa young,strongmanandIwasmovedbythewayhisbodyfoldednaturallyintoa sculpturalformofcompletehumility. Istoodbesidehim,acigarettestillsmoulderinginmyfingers,unabletotakepart buthopingvaguelythattheremightbeasmallsurplusofgracetotakecareofme tooandwhatevermightbewaitingformeatthestation. Walkingbackthelasthundredyardshetoldmethathewasamarriedmanwith childrenandcamefromBahia,andthatthisdaywashisthirtiethbirthday.The stationwasquiet.Thenightpassedpeacefully.OccasionallyIwokeuptoimagine anagentwithalumpyfaceanddarkglassesfuriouslyransackingSaoRaimundo. ThenIdismissedhimandsleptagain. TheunnaturalcalmlasteduntilmiddayonFriday,andthenitwasbrokenby anothertriumphofmelodramaandcornycharacterization.Iwasalreadyonmy waytolunchwithanotherpoliceman,whenabigandbatteredblackcarmaking terriblenoisesfromitsexhaustscreechedtoahaltbesideus.Thedriverhad obviouslyescapedfromagangstermovieofthethirties.Hewaswhattheyused tocallarunt.Hewasweedyandworeanoverpaddedsuit,andonhisfacewere twohugepiecesofstickingplaster,inacross.AlCaponemusthavesenthim personally,forhewasfullofurgencyandselfimportance.Iwasbundledintothe back,andthewheelsstartedspinningbeforethedoorwasclosed. WeshotoffinthedirectionofSaoRaimundo,andmyadrenalinmadevaliant attemptstorisetotheoccasion.SurelythismustbeIT,Ithought,butthenthecar madeasurpriseleftturnandinamomentwewerebackoutsidethepolice station.IwasrushedinsideandalongthecorridorsintotheSuperintendent's receptionarea,whereXavierhimselfwasstandingandtalkingonthetelephone. ThenFranziskacameinandtoldmetherewasacallfromtheForeignMinistry. Theywantedtotalktome. IcouldhearXaviersayingthatIhadbeentherefourdaysandIbecamequite angrysuddenly.Iraisedeightfingers,andsaid'ocho'loudly,butXaviertookno notice.Afterawhilehepassedthereceivertomewithasmile.

'YoucantalktoCounsellorBrandaoinBrasilia,'hesaid,andwalkedintohis office. BrandaospokegoodEnglishandsoundedconcerned. Ttelephonedthecustomsaboutyourmotorcycleatechnicalproblemof ownershipandtheytoldmeyouareincustody.Whatisyourposition?Whatare youdoing?Areyouajournalist,ornot?Whydidn'tyoutellthem?' ItriedtoexplaintoBrandaowhoIthoughtIwas,butwithlittlesuccess.Itbegan tooccurtomethatthesubtledistinctionsIhadthoughtsoimportantmightbe invisibletothenakedeye.IfIwastobeconnectedwiththeSundayTimesatall,I wouldbeconsideredajournalist,anditwouldbeuselesstodenyit.Normally therewasnoneedtorevealtheconnection,butinBrazilbecauseofthe guaranteeonthemotorcycleitwasinevitable. Tdon'tunderstand,'Brandaowassaying.'Yousayyouhavebeenthereforfour days...' 'No,thatwasXavier.Ihavebeenlockeduphereforeightdays.' 'EIGHT!Istilldon'tunderstand.Haven'tyougotadocumentfromtheSunday Times?' Itookadeepbreathandsaid'Yes'.ForbetterorworseIcouldstandthe complicationsnolonger,andwiththeBrasilianForeignOfficeinvolvedIfeltsafer. Theconversationlingeredon.WitheachpassingmomentIfeltmorecertainthat atlasttheknotswouldbeuntiedandIwouldbefree.Iputthephonedownwith Brandao'scivilizedassurancelikemusicinmyears. Xavierhadreturnedandwassittingnearme. ThaveaSundayTimescorrespondent'scard,'Itoldhim.'ItisatSaoRaimundo, andIshouldexplainitiswithanotherpassport...'butXavierhadalreadygotto hisfeet. 'Wewillgetthecardintheafternoon,'hesaid.Hewasinaremarkablyjovial mood.Wemighthavebeenmakingadatefortennis.Heputhisarmroundmy shoulderandsweptmetowardsthedoor. 'Nowitistimeforourlunch,'hesaid. Itriedonemoretimetotalkaboutthepassportbuthewouldhavenoneofit. 'Seeyoulater,Ithinkyousay,'hegrinned,anddisappeared.Istilldid notlikehimverymuch,butIwasgladtoseehimhappy.Neitherthecardnorthe passportwereevermentionedagain. Intheafternoonmyoptimismappearedtobejustified.NotonlydidMatthews arriveunexpectedlyTwasworried,soIcameadayearlier'butwithhimcame AlanDavidsonfromthebankandFatherWalshfromSaoRaimundo.Itseemed impossiblethatIwouldnotbewalkingoutwiththemwhentheyleft. Davidsonhadreceivedtheguaranteeforthebikeandhadarrangedforanagent togetthebikeoutofcustoms. ItoldthemaboutmytalkwithBrandao.Likemetheyseemedtothinkthatmust betheendofit,andMatthewswenttoseetheDOPSInspectorwhowas technicallyinchargeofmycasetoaskformyrelease.MeanwhileItoldWalsh aboutthestrangesceneofthedaybeforeandthereferencestoSaoRaimundo. Onceagainheinsistedthatnobodyhadbeenthere,withorwithoutlumps, pockmarksorplasters.Whatsurprisedmemorewasthatheseemedtoattachno significancetoit,andIwonderedfleetinglywhethertheyallthoughtmeabit peculiar.

Matthewsreturnedandsaidtheyrefusedtoletmego,untiltheyhadareplyfrom thePoliciaMaritimi.IwasterriblyshockedandIcursedloudlyandangrilywhile theywaitedformysymptomstosubside.WhenIwasrationalagain,Matthews loweredhisvoiceandwenton. 'Theysaytheyhavegrounds.Theysaytheyhavebeenlookingforan Englishman,alawyer,withthesamenamesasyours.HeiscalledJohnSimon Edwardsandtheysayhehasbeeninvolvedinsubversiveactivities.' Atfirstitsoundedlikeanoutrageousfictionanotherdamnablepretextfor hangingontome.Iwasconvincedthattheyhatedtoletpeoplego.Justthefact thatyouwereinthereatallmeantthattherehadtobesomethingwrongwithyou. Eventuallytheywouldfindsomewaytojustifykeepingyou.Ignaciotheclerk seemedtoknowit.Hedidnotbehavelikeamanwhohadbeendeprivedofhis liberty,morelikeapatientinaninstitutionwaitingtohearwhetherhewascured. Yetthestorywasalmostperfectinitsway.Itexplainednearlyeverything,the messages,thesnatchesofconversationabout'ingles'anddeportation.Eventhe oddfeelingIhadofbeingtwopeoplemusthavecomefrommyfrenziedeffortto makesenseofthemystery.Thecancelledvisamusthavebeeninhispassport, butiftheyhadhispassport,wherewashe?Hadtheythoughthewashidingat SaoRaimundo?Whyhadn'ttheybeenthere?ButthenSaoRaimundowasa district,notjustachurch.Wasitonlycoincidence?Toomuchcoincidence,I thought.Andifthestorywastrue,Icouldseehowmyarrivalwouldhave confusedthepoliceasmuchasitconfusedme.WasMr.Edwardsakeen underwaterfisherman,Iwondered.Ishouldhavelikedtomeethim. 'ButnowIsaid,'Nowtheyknowtherearetwoofus,sowhydotheyhavetohang ontome?It'scrazy...'andIwentintoanotherfitoffuryasfutileasthefirst. Myfriendstriedtocomfortme,buttherewaslittletheycoulddo.Apartfrom freedomIhadeverythingIneeded.Ihadclothes,books,theuseofashower, cigarettes,money,accesstorestaurants,afairlycomfortablebedanda companiontoplaychesswithandtalkto.Yetthetimedraggedbyasheavilyas ever,andnowtherewasnotevenfeartospicethehours.Anotherfullweekendat least,alonewithIgnacio,withnoteventheanticsofmycaptorstoamuseme.It seemedintolerable. However,entertainmentwasunexpectedlyprovidedbythemanagement,inthe shapeofalawyercalledAndrade.Hemadehisfirstappearancebrieflythat eveningwhenXavierbroughthimtotheoffice.Isawatallman,thinandgrey haired,wholookedasthoughhehadjustseenhislifefallintoruins. 'Youcanstayhereifyoulike,butyoumustnottalktothese,'saidXavier, indicatingus.Miserablythemanshookhisheadandmumbledsomething,and theylefttogether.Hewasallthemorepatheticbecausehewassowelldressed andgroomed,andobviouslyaccustomedtocomfortandrespect. Nextdayhewasback,butinmuchbetterspirits.Hiscomingwasarevelationto me,anexampletousall.Hebroughtwithhimaleatherbagandasmallpigskin case,andhisfirstmovewastounpackabrightlycolouredstringhammockand hangitacrossacorneroftheroom.Tomyastonishmentthehookswerealready providedinthewalls,andinmyeightdaysthereIhadfailedtotakenoticeof them.Thereweresilverbackedbrushes,toiletwater,anelegantrobeand slippersandhintsofotherunidentifiedluxuries. Thesilencelastedonlyhalfanhour,ifthat.Withinthehourhehadtoldtheclerk hislifestory,butithadgonetoofastformetocatchmorethanatantalizingdetail

hereandthere.Weplayedtwogamesofchess,hewonthesecond,andI persuadedhimtotellhisstoryagainslowly.AsbestIcouldtellitwentlikethis: HewasfromSaoPaulo,Brazil'sbiggest,busiest,smoggiestcity,wherehehad beenemployedasalawyerinthestategovernment.Thenin1964,afterthe militarycoup,thebrotheroftheGovernorofSaoPaulobetrayedhimorslandered himinsomewayandhecametotheGovernor'spalacetoprotestanddemand satisfaction.Heaccusedthebrothertohisfaceofhisreptilianbehaviour,andthe brotherrepliedintermswhichhe,Andrade,couldnottolerate.Hetherefore deliveredtohispersecutorapunchonthenose,atwhichthecowardlyfellow drewagunandsentAndradesprawlingonthemarblefloorwithabulletthrough hiscalf.However,ashelayonhisback,proppeduponhisleftelbow,hewas able todrawhisowngun,andheshottheGovernor'sbrotheroncethrougheach shoulderandoncethroughtheleg. Andrade'saccountofthiseventwasmarvellouslyvivid,ashemovedandspun withtheprogressofthestory,andheconcludedbyhoistinghisrighttrouserleg torevealapennysizedscarononesideofhiscalfandanotherontheotherside. Thescarsgavehimgreatsatisfaction. Asaresultofthisincident,hesaid,hewasunabletoearnalivelihoodinSao Paulo.Helosthisjob,alldoorstoprivatepracticewereclosed,andhewas labelledpoliticallyundesirable.In1970heexiledhimselffromSaoPauloand cametoCeara,asufficientdistanceawaytooutruntheslanders.InFortalezahe builtupanewreputationandtookpartinthecreationofseveralimportant enterprises,includingawatertreatmentplantandacemetery.Heassociated himselfwiththeCearabranchofthecompanythatsoldLarousseencyclopaedias inBrazil,anditbecamethemostprofitablebranchinthecountry.Hisbossin Cearabecamehisclosestfriend. Thenin1973,justbeforeChristmas,hewassuddenlydismissed.Theprincipals inSaoPaulorefusedtoseehimorcommunicatewithhim,buthedecidedtotake noaction.ThensomemonthslaterhisformerbossinCearawasalsodismissed andaccusedoffraud.ThismaninvitedAndradetohelphimprepareacase againstLarousse,butinthemeanwhileAndradehaddiscoveredthatitwashis supposedfriendwhohadoriginallydenouncedhimtoSaoPauloasaswindler. Andradethereforegaveevidenceagainsthisformerfriendinstead. Nowhehimselfhadbeenarrested.Hewastoldthatcriminalproceedings, broughtagainsthimyearsagoinSaoPaulo,hadgonetotrialandhehadbeen convictedinhisabsenceandsentencedtofiveyears.Hewasnowwaitingtobe senttoprison.Heseemedtobequitewithouthope. Thateveninghereceivedavisitfromhisson,ayoungmanincasualbutmost expensiveclothes. 'Papa!'hecried,andtheyfellintoanemotionalembrace.Theyweregivena privateroomsomewheretotalk,andAndradecamebackbeaming.Hecarrieda plateofroastchickenjointswrappedinacleanredandwhitenapkin,andabag ofotherassortedfoodsandfruits,whichhesharedwithus. Hissonandhisfriends,hesaid,hadbeenresearchingintherecordsofSao Paulo.Thewholestoryofaprisonsentencewasawickedliedisseminatedbyhis enemies.Therehadneverbeenajudgementagainsthim,hesaid.Soonthetruth wouldemergeandhewouldbefreeagain.

IfounditasdifficulttobelieveinthenewrosydawnasIhadintheblackpicture ofdespairhehadpaintedafewhoursago,buthewassoexhilaratedbyhis prospectsthatIpretendedtoshareinthewonderofitallandcongratulatedhim heartilyonhisimminentrelease. 'AtleastIsaid,'youwon'thavetoescape.'Helaughed.Earlierhehadspent sometimediscussingwaysofbreakingoutofthestation.Comparedwiththe prisonatSaoPaulo,hesaid,itwouldbeveryeasy.Ididnotaskhimhowhe knew. HiseuphoriacarriedhimthroughuntilMondaymorning.WhenIreturnedfromthe bathroom,InoticedAndradeandIgnaciobothstandingbythewallinarather curiousposition,andcouldnotatfirstmakeoutwhatitwasthatwassoodd. ThenIsawthattheywerestandinginsuchawaythatthemorningsun,passing betweenthewallandtheroof,shoneontheirfaces.Theywerebothveryserious aboutit,anditstruckmeasthesortofthingonemightdoifonehadspentlong periodsinprison. ShortlyafterwardsAndradewastakenaway.Hereturnedbrieflylatertocollect hishammockandotherthings,andhisfacehadfallenoncemoreintothe bitterestdejection.HesaidnothingandneitherdidI. Mondaywasapoordayformetoo.Therewasnosignofmyrelease.Ignacio wastakenawaytooduringtheday,heavenknowswhere...AtlunchtimeIwas refusedpermissiontogoout,andputbackontheprisondietofriceandbeans. Franziskawasnowheretobeseen,andnobodyelsewouldexplain.Inthe eveningtherewasastrangeagenteondutyandagainIwasnotallowedout. Evenworse,Iwasgivennothingtoeateither,andtheeffectwasverydepressing. Inthemornings,Ihadestablishedaroutinewherebyapolicemanfetchedmea sandwich,coffeeandcigarettes,butonTuesdaymorningeventhatsystemfailed. Iwasdumbfounded.Itwasasthoughthewholebloodybusinesswasstarting fromthebeginningagain.Allmycarefullycultivatedspecialrelationshipshad withered.Atlunchtimeallmyusualcompanionsvanished.Norwasanything broughttome.TheanxietyIfeltthenwasunusuallycorrupting,foritundermined allmyexpectations.Icouldnotattributethisnewregimetoanything.Icouldnot evenbesureitwasdeliberate.Itsimplyleftmewithasenseoftotalrevulsion againsteveryoneofthebastards,fromXavierdowntothecookInolonger caredwhethertheywerecunning,incompetent,corruptornaive,itmadeno difference.Theresultwasarotten,souldestroyingmessandfromthatmomentI buriedthebenefitofanydoubtImighthavehadaboutanyofthem. IntheafternoonMatthewsandDavidsoncametotellmethatIwasfree.Iwasto bedeliveredofficiallyintothearmsoftheBritishConsulwithDavidsonas witness.Itshouldhavebeenamomentofjoyandcelebration,butbythenIwas sodeepinresentmentandmiserythatallIcouldthinkwas'aboutbloodytime too.' IngratitudetotheothersItriedtolookhappybutitwashardgoing.Iwantedonly togetaway,andtheformalitiesdraggedheavily.Atthelastmoment,when Davidsonhadalreadyleft,MatthewsandIwerestanding withXavierbytheentrance.Xavierlookedatmewithanindulgentsmileandsaid: 'Nowyoucanwritethestory.' 'Askhim',IsaidtoMatthews,'whetherheisfinallyconvincedthatIaminnocent

OfcourseXavierhadtosayyes,butIwaswatchinghisfaceandIshallbe indebtedtohimalwaysforasuperlativespecimen,initsfinestflower,ofthe varietyofhumanexpressionknownasTheSicklyGrin. ButitwasIwhowassick. Duringthoselastdayssomethinginsidemetwistedandstrangledthesourceof myvitality.UptillthenIhadimagined,withoutrealizingitofcourse,thattheentire Brazilianpoliceapparatuswasdevotedtomycase.Myveryexistencedepended onwhethertheyfoundme'innocent'or'guilty'.Itmusthavebeensometimeon Mondaythattheyfoundthattheyhadnofurtheruseforme.FromthatmomentI wasnotevenworthmyriceandbeans. Theyceasedtorecognizemypresence.Theylostinteresttotheextentthatthey didnotevenbothertofeedme.ThenIsawthatwithoutthemIwasnothing. Worsethannothingadogthatcowersatthefeetofabrutalmastergratefulfor anyacknowledgement,whetheritcomesasbonesorblows.Ibecamedisgusted withmyselfandloathedthemforshowingmetomyselfinsuchashamefullight. Sotheydemonstratedtheirpowertomeintheend,inacareless,offhandway, withoutreallytrying.TheywereindifferenttotheConsul,totheSundayTimes,to theirowngovernmenteven.Buttheyfoundmemildlyirritating,andspatmeout. Someothertimetheirattentionmightbeattractedandtheywouldsuckmein again.IfeltagreatandmalignantshadowhoveringovermeandIwantedonlyto crawlunderastoneandhide. TheConsul'sbrotherCharlesdrovemebacktoSaoRaimundoandthepriests offeredmearoomintheirownhouse.Ifeltitwaswrongformetostaythere,but theywerequiteconfidentanditwassomuchwhatIwanted,thatIcouldnot refuse.AssoonasIwasaloneIwenttothediningroomandlookedunderthe refrigerator.Thebeltwasthere,amongringletsofdust,asIhadleftit. Icouldnotshakeoffthesenseoffearandrevulsion.ItwasasthoughIhadbeen squeezedtoohard.Althoughthepressurewasoff,Ihadnoresilienceleftto resumemyformershape.NeverbeforehadIbeenunabletofindtheresources withinmyselftorespond.Icoweredinsidemyshelllikeashrivelledhomunculus, andIwasworriedthatithadaffectedmesodeeply. Butnothingactuallyhappenedtoyou,Itoldmyselfangrily.Whatisthis nonsense?Itwasonlytwelvedays.Nowgetonwithlife. ButIcouldn't.Itwasimportanttowriteanaccountoftheexperiencequicklyand senditoff,buteverythingIwroteseemedfalseandtrivial.ItriedallthetricksI couldmustertofindadifferentperspective,toclimboutofmyselfjustfora moment.Physicalexercise.Detectivethrillers.Gettingoutamongcrowdsof people. Progresswasslow.Iwatchedalotoftelevisiononabigcolourset,ina recreationroomupstairs.ItwasaWorldCupyearandBrazilianswereinafrenzy aboutfootball.TheBraziliansugarmonopolywasoneofthemainsponsorsof footballonTV,anditsadvertisement,agrowingmountainofsugar,seemedtobe onthescreenconstantly.ItwasoneofthefirstthingsIlaughedat,becausethe countryhadbeenstruckbyasuddenandseveresugarshortage,andBrazilians cannotdrinkcoffeewithoutit. OrIsatinthecanerockingchairtalkingtoWalsh,orstoodinthedarkofthe balconywatchingthehugefruitbatsswooproundthejackfruittreeandscoopout thepulp.Soundsofmusicandlaughterdriftedinfromtheneighbourhoodandoil

palmsinabackyardplantationbrushedthenightskywiththeirfeathering silhouettes. Duringtheday,withpaperandtheparishtypewriter,Iburrowedintoevery availablecornerofthehouse,hopingthatachangeofspacewouldunblockmy mind.Inolongerthoughtmuchabouttheaestheticmeritsofthebuilding.It providedshelterandsafetyandthatwasallIcaredfor. ForawhileIworkedinanofficejustinsidethefrontdoor,withahatchopeningon thehallwaywhereIcouldwatchthemotherscomeforagossipandtohelpwith thedutiesoftheparish.Theyhadlittlecrushesonparticularpriests.Sometimes theytelephonedandthentheywoulddotheirutmosttogettheirfavouritesonthe telephone,whilethepriestsinturndefendedeachotherfanatically. WhenIwasaloneinthehouseIsometimesansweredthephone. 'SaoRaimundo,'IannouncedinmybestPortuguese. 'Quernestdfalando?"sangtheshrill,intriguing,matronlyvoices. 'PadreEduardo,'Irepliedgravely.Thatperplexedthemforawhile,buttheflurry ofsoundsthatfollowedwouldbetoomuchformeusually,andIwouldwaitfora pausetosay'Si,si'andputthereceiverdown. OnthethirddayItriedthegameinreverse.ThephonerangandIgotthe questioninfirst:'Quernestdfalando?' Awoman'svoiceanswered:'Franziska.CanIspeaktoTedplease.' IfeltsickinsideandwouldhavetoldhertogotohellifIhaddared. 'Howareyou?'shesaid,and'Areyouhappytobefree?''Ofcourse.' Thavebeenthinkingaboutyou.Haveyouthoughtaboutme?'Ihavebeen thinkingofmanythings.'Itwasanoisyline.Webothhadtoshout. Iwouldliketoseeyou.Willyoucomehere?''Where?' 'Atmyhome.WhenIfinishworking.Whenyouwillcome?'Tamverybusy writing.''TomorrowIamfree.''Alright.' Whatthehelldoyouthinkyou'redoing,IaskedmyselfasItooktheaddress.You can'tseriouslyexpecttomakelovetoawomanwhocarriesaguninherpurse andworksfortheforcesofevil? Atthedocksthecustomsputthirteenmenonthejobofdischargingmy motorcycle.Theywerekeentoshowmewherethepolicehadcutthesaddle opentoexplorethefoamrubberunderneath,'Lookingforbombs!'theysaid contemptuously,butIsaidno,theywereafterScubaequipment. Therewasnolovelostbetweenthetwoservices.AsavictimofthePolicia FederalIwasanhonouredguestandtreatedtoanelaboratecoffeeceremonyin thechief'soffice.Theywereallbrownmeninbrownofficeswithbrownledgers. Theirswastheold,suffocatingkindofbureaucracythatIdetested,buttheyonly imprisonedthings,notpeople,andforonceIappreciatedtheirmorehuman qualities. Havingthebikebackwasanimportantsteptowardsfreedom.Iarrivedat Franziska'shousefeelingstrongerthanIhadthedaybefore.Amongherown familyitwasalmostpossibletoforgetwhatshewas.Sheradiatedinnocence,and theyalltreatedmewithgreataffection.Therewasneverahintofhowwehad met,orthatImightbeinanywayadubiouscharacter,butwhilemyinsecurity wassoothedalittle,anewproblemarose.Ihadnoideawhatthemoralcustoms werehere.ArespectableCatholicfamilyinaprovincialcity,Ithought,wouldhave rigidstandardsofbehaviour,andifIviolatedtheirsenseofpropriety...?

Underneathitallthesamequestionlay,sappingmypunyconfidence.Howcould Ibesurethatawomanscorned,orawomanoutraged,wouldnotthinktoavenge herselfthroughherconnections?Orperhapsthewholethingwassetup,andnot necessarilybyher?EvenwhileIwascertainthatthesewerefantasies,Ihad comesorecentlyfromaworldoffantasythattheyinhibitedmeterribly,andyet undeniablyshewasattractive,andfarfromsilly,andherattitudetowardsmewas directlyinviting. Itwastooridiculous.Iwantedtobreakthroughthewebofsuspicion,butIwas scared.Itouchedher,familiarlybutawkwardly,becausemyheartwasnot stronglyinit.Therewasabriefflashoffury. 'Ifmyfatherseesyouhewillbeveryangry.' Ifeltlikeapuppyhavingitsnosetapped.EmbarrassedIretreatedintoplatitudes andneutrality.Icouldnotfigureitout.Undoubtedlyitshouldhavebecomealove affair,butitalwaysfalteredonthebrink. ItookaweektofinishmypiecefortheSundayTimes,andIhadtoreliveallthe agonytodoit.Iwasgreatlyrelievedwhenitwaswritten,butbythenIhad developedaninfectionofthegutwhichslowedmedownforseveralmoredays.It wasthefirstillnessoftheentirejourney.InAfricamyhealthhadbeenperfect althoughIhadeatenanddrunkeverythingthatcamemyway.Thereisnothing worseforhealththanimprisonmentandfrustration. FranziskaandImetseveraltimes,butmyfearcontinuedtomakemeasshyasa fourteenyearold.MylastdaysinFortalezawerethebeginningofthefestivalof SaoJoao,aweekofcelebrationthroughoutBrazil.Wewenttoadanceonthe beachwhereIfeltsureIwouldbeabletoovercomemyfaintheartedness.Abig crowdsanganddancedanddrankatwoodentablesunderabroadtiledcanopy. Themoonwasfull,theairwarmontheskin,thecoconutsswayedontheshore. Everythingwasauspicious...untilIsawherfriendsfromtheoffice,two policemenIhadlastseenwhenIwastheirprisoner.Ievencaughtaglimpseof thegunsintheirwaistbands,andmyardourfrozetoiceagain. Wesatforawhile,muchlater,sidebysideonthebeachlisteningtothewaves.I longedtotouchhersmoothlonglegs,tofeelherskinagainstmine,butIwas paralysed,thinking: 'OnceIstart,wherewillitend?' Iknewitwouldbeourlastmeeting.Wefoundataxiafterwalkingalongway,and inthetaxiIkissedherforthefirsttimeandknewitwouldhavebeenalright.But bythenitwastoolate. ThepriestshadallbeensummonedtoaDiocesanconferenceatMaranhao,a longwayaway.FatherWalshhadtoldmetheywouldallbeleavinginthreedays' time.HedidnotsayIwouldhavetoleave,butitwasobviouslytimetogo.Iwas hopingtheyhadnothadtoinventtheconferencetogetmeoutofthehouse. Iwaspackingthebikeinthebackyardonthemorningtheyleftforthebusstation wonderful,kindlymenwhomIwouldbemostunlikelytoseeagain.Anhouror twolaterIleftmyself.Thethoughtofgoingmademenervous.Isawmyselfasa targetforeveryidlepolicemanonthetwothousandmilesofroadtoRio,andit wasnotunliketheveryfirstdepartureinLondon.InsomewaysIfeltevenmore vulnerablethanIhadthen. Atthefirstpolicecheckpointonthehighwayleavingthecitytheycheckedmeout butgavemenotrouble.Ihadanimpressivetemporarydrivinglicence,withan utterlyvillainouspictureofmetakenforit,andtheylikedthat.Stillthecloudof

anxietytravelledwithmedownthehighway.Thengraduallythefamiliar movement,thesoundoftheengine andtherushofairbuiltupmyconfidenceasnothingelsecould.Isatupandtook noticeofthebrightgreenforestedhills,andthestreamsandlakesthatreminded meofTanzania. IbegantorememberwhoIwasandwhatIhadalreadydoneandthestrength camepouringbackintome.BytheendofthedayIhadcrossedfromCearainto thestateofPernambuco,andsomewhereabouttheretheclouddetacheditself andfloatedbacktoFortaleza.AfteramonthofmiseryIfeltfree.Atlast. IwastravellingsouthfromtheEquatordowntheeastcoastofAmericaona paralleltracktomyjourneydowntheeastcoastofAfrica.Itwasamagnificent geographylesson.IfCeararesembledTanzania,theninlandBahiawassimilarto Zambia,whileMinasGerais,thenextgreatstateonthesouthwardtrail,was startlinglylikeRhodesia,withthosesamemassiverectangularrockformations, oldgoldmines,gemstones,broadskies,dryair,andpeacefullambentevenings. AsanintroductiontothesizeanddiversityofBrazilitwasbreathtaking. ThelifeofBrazil,though,seemstoderivelittlefromlifeinAfrica,evenwithsucha largeproportionofAfricansdescendedfromformerAfricanslaves.Therehave beenEuropeanshereforhundredsofyears,imposingthemselvesonthenative Indianpopulation,buildingchurches,fightingoverthespoils,interbreeding, creatingcomplexhierarchies,becomingrichanddestitute,leavingthetraces, layeruponlayer,oftheirpassionsandvirtues. WhenthefirstfoundationswerestillbeinglaidinSalisburyandLusaka,the PortuguesepalacesandcathedralsinBrazilwerealreadyancient,andthe coastalstateswerepepperedwiththrivingcommunities.Thetownsportraytheir history.Inthecentretheyaspiretothechurch. Greateffortsweremadeandmanylivesexpendedtocut,haulandlaythestone thatpavestheroadsandclothesthebuildings.Radiatingoutwardstheroads soonturnfromcobbletodirt,andthehousesshrinkanddecayuntiltheymeetthe modernhighwaysystemwhereanewerkindofwealthmakesanewstandin cementandgirdersandasphalt,garages,busstations,andnewlydilapidated hotels. Thestreetsaremuddyintherainandsmellofgarbageandurine,lacedwith coffeeandcigarsmoke.Busesandlorriessplashthroughonbroken suspensions,spoutingblackexhaust,theirwoodencoachworkgaudywith fairgroundcoloursandslogans:'Awomanislikeatruck.Shegoesfasterwhen youputyourfootdown'.Intheeveningthestreetsswarmwithpeopleofevery colourexceptpurewhite(forthepurewhitekeepapart)butduringthehot,dry anddustyafternoons,thestreetssleep. Itwasahot,dustyafternoonwhenIcametoSenhordoBonfim,asmallinland towninBahia,aday'sridefromSalvador.Icameearly,wonderingwhetherto stay,andwalkedthroughnarrowstreetslookinginonbarbershops,billiard saloonsandpeoplesippingcoffeein'butiquinos'.TheweekofSaoJoaowasjust ending.Loudspeakersonstreetcornersbroadcastmusic,announcementsand advertisementsbythetowntradespeople. Ilikedit,foundaroomneartherailway,parkedmybikeinthestreet,draggedmy luggageuptothefirstfloorandfloppeddownonthebedtodozeforawhile. Birdsongandchatterinvadedmyhalfwakingstate,followedbyother,stranger

sounds.Therewasanoiselikemuffledtincansfallinginaheapcoming repeatedlyfromtheyardbeneaththeopenwindow.ThenIheardaneven strangerwailingmusicalsound,windingupanddownthescale,nowloud,now faint,asthoughblownfromalongwayoffbyaficklewind.Iopenedmyeyes lazilyandsawabluefigureofaman,legsandarmsoutstretched,floatuptothe skytodisappearabovetheupperedgeofthewindowframe.Suchbenign mysteries,Ithought,arewhatmaketravellinginfinitelyworthwhile.Everyoneelse inthehotelknowsexactlywhatthesesightsandsoundsare,butIamfreeto imagineanythingIchoose. Itwaseasyafterwardstospottheturkeysintheyard,andtoguessthatthe balloonmanwassomethingtodowithSaoJoao,buttheskirlingmusicremained amystery.AtdinnerdownstairsIhearditagain.Thehotelownercametowards me,agitatedsomethingtodowiththemotorcycle.Itwasindanger,hesaid. Iwentoutsidetolook.Themusicwasgrowingintoametallichowl,butIsawonly theusualsmallboysgatheredroundthebike,proddingitandstaringfixedlyinto thespeedometer.Themusichadtheeeriequalityofanapproachingstorm.Then therecameroundthecorner,atthebottomofthestreet,precededbyapackof dancersinviolentmotion,amostspectacularthing.Athingemittinglightand soundsonascaleofintensityIhadneverknown,sointensethatittookawhileto focusonitsvariouspartsandidentifyit. Thereweretwoobjectsshapedlikerocketsfloatingtenfeetintheair,andabout thirtyfeetlong.Theywerebuiltentirelyoutofbrilliantfluorescentlighttubes. Beneaththem,myriadclustersofcolouredbulbsflashedonandoff,eachcluster beingsetintoaloudspeaker.Risingabovetheglareoftherocketswerethree meninbrightclothing,bowingandgrimacinglikemarionetteshighaboveusall andpluckingfuriouslyattinyelectricguitars.Onsumptuousgalleriesbelowthe rockets,runningallthewayroundthisphantasmicobject,werefloodlitdrummers dressedinsatin,gesticulating,likeananimatedfreize,astheyhammeredaway. Allofitseemedtobebornealongbyathrongofhypnotizeddancersjerkingtheir elbowsandtwirlingtothemusicwhichpouredoutinsolidwaves,havingno beginningnorend. Thethingdriftedpastatwalkingpace,carvingagreattunneloflightandfuryout ofthenight,andlikeeveryoneelseIwassuckedintoitswake.Itcametorest besidealargeornamentalpark,withtrees,pathways,andafountain.Allaround werehuts,lightlybuiltofpalmfrondsonwoodenframes,sellingrefreshments. Middleagedpeasantladiesinheavybodicessquattedbycharcoalbraziers roastingskeweredmeatandcorncobs.Aroguisholdmaninavelvetjacketand gauchohatoperatedacrownandanchorgame,withheapsoftoothpastetubes andsoapascurrency.Araisedwoodenstagehadbeenbuiltintheparkand, facingit,abankofseatsforticketholdersandnotables.Therestofusstood amongthetreesorwanderedroundthestalls. Onthestage,aringofdancerswereperformingcomicdances,andamanina stripedshirtandbowtiestoodinonecornerwithamicrophonepretendingtobe anunusuallycrassAmericantouristandmakingabsurd commentsinpigeonEnglish.Ofrealtouriststherewerenone,butthepeopleof thetownandroundaboutwerethereintheirthousands,enjoyingthemselves enormously,warminguptoaclimaxwhichwasclearlystilltocome.

Ashockwavetravelledthroughthecrowd,andthedancershastilyleftthestage. Asoberofficialcametothemicrophoneandsaidsomethingurgentaboutthe TogoSymbolicodoRepublico'. 'Fireworks',Ithought.Thepoliceweremakingalanethroughthecrowd,pushing peoplebackmercilesslytoconnectthestagewiththeoutsideworld.Therewasa greatairofexpectancy.Whateverwascomingwouldhavetobesensationalto justifyit,afterallIhadseenalready.Thewaitingdraggedon.Peoplecameonto deliverspeechesofthanksandtributes.Wewereallshufflingourfeet, impatiently.Agroupofyoungstersingymclothesranratherselfconsciouslyfrom theroad,throughtheclearedlaneandupthestepstothestage,havingmuch difficultytryingtokeepinformation.Onthestagesomeofthemstopped.Others ranonthespot.Thosewhostopped,startedagainwithembarrassment,justas thosewhohadcontinuedthoughttheyhadbetterstop.ThenIsawthatthefront runnerhadatorchinhishandwithasmallflame,andavoiceboomedoutagain aboutthe'FogoSymbolico'. Theapplausewastheabsoluteminimumnecessarytobeaudibleevidently everybodyfounditallmuchtoosymbolic,andIwonderedhowfardowntheroad theyhadstruckamatchandlitthetorch.SaoJoaowentoutwithawhimper,and IthoughtIhadneverattendedagreateranticlimaxinmylife.Iwentbacktothe hoteltokillmosquitoesandsleep,buttherewerenotenoughblanketsandit becamesurprisinglycold.BetweenpatchesofsleepItriedtoreconstructthat fantasticmusic,acontinuousmelodyplayedatthespeedofabanjo,withsomeof thefeelingofanoldbarrelorgan,thickenedandamplifiedtoafrenzyof excitement.ForawhileIthoughtIhadit,butinthemorningitwasgone. OnlymuchlaterdidIdiscoverthatIhadmet,inSenhordoBonfim,oneofBrazil's mostcelebratedinstitutions,theuniqueandillustriousTrioElectricofrom SalvadorwhichwastheglowingheartoftheBahiaCarnival. ForsixmoredaysImovedsouthtowardsRio.IbegantostudyPortuguese seriously,readingmenusandadvertisements,andlearningtheroadsignsby heart.'Naoultrapassarquandoalignaizquierdaforcontinua',Irepeatedagain andagain.TheoneIcouldnotunderstandsaid'Conservaasplacas'.Oftenitwas riddledwithbulletholes.Ilearnedlaterthatitmeant'Donotdestroytheroad signs'.IrecalledotheroddsignsfromAfrica:theonethatgreetedmeasIwas abouttotakeahighviaductovertheBlueNileGorge,leaningoutfromthe mountainsidethousandsoffeetabovenothing. 'Driveslowlyandcarefully,'itsaid.'Thisviaducthasbegunmoving.' OrtheonepaintedontheroadsinSouthAfrica,justbeforetrafficlightsinthe righthandlane.'SlegsOnly',itwarned. 'WhatonearthareSlegs?'Iasked. 'It'sAfrikaansforOnly,'theytoldme. ThelasttwodaysbeforeRiowereglorious,ridingthroughthestateofMinas Gerais.Thatrollingranchcountrydrewmeirresistibly.Iwalkedintheevenings pastthecattlepens,admiringthesolidityandworkmanshipofthestoutblack fenceswiththeirwhitecappedposts.Mountedcowboyssaunteredbywith carefullylaconicfaces.Thesunsetinsplendourleavinganairofgreattranquillity overtheland,andIsworethatonedayIwouldreturnthere. ThentheemeraldcladmountainscarriedmehighuptoTeresopolis,andsoonI wasstandingnexttotheFingerofGod,andlookingdownoverthebayofRiode Janeiro,feelingexactlythesamehappypremonitionthatIhadhadcoming

throughDuToit'sKloofandlookingdowntoCapeTown.IknewRiowasgoingto bewonderful,andRiodidnotdisappointme. ThefriendsoffriendslivedinluxuryinIpanema.Iwaswelcomedintotheir apartment,andstoodinmyblackbootsandclumsygearontheirwhitecarpet amongpricelesspaintingsandfragilemodernartconstructions,feelingasthough everymoveImadewouldcauseirreparabledamage.'Fantastic,'theysaid. 'Wonderful',asthoughwhattheymostlongedtodowastobuyacoupleofbikes andcometherestofthewaywithme.Iwasusedtosomeofthethingsthat wealthcoulddotopeople,andIfoundtheirswashbucklinginnocenceagreat relief.Theyweregenerousbeyondmeasure,butinawaythatmadeitseem natural,nothingtomakeafussabout,somethingbetweenfriends.Ifoundmyself installed,foraslongasIliked,inasmallflatwithinahundredyardsofthebeach, aboveaballetschoolwhichtheyran.EverydayIwasinvitedtolunchordineor visitsomeone.Almosteveryonetheyknewseemedtohavebeenthegovernorof onestateoranother,orrelatedtosomefamouspioneerinBrazil'shistory.Iwas ridingonRio'sinnercircle,andthefactofwhathadhappenedtomeinFortaleza madeitallseemnotonlyunusuallypleasurable,butentirelyappropriate.I revelledinit. SoitwasnotlongbeforeIwasadinnerguestofthebestknownandliked politicianBrazilhadproducedthiscentury,PresidentJuscelinoKubitschek.The dinnerwasattendedbyotherpowerfulandmoreorlessobnoxiouspeople,all strivingformasteryinstridentPortuguese. MylackofPortugueseforcedmetositonthesidelinesandmakedowith whisperedtranslationsfrommyfriendsandKubitschek'sdaughter butIwatchedhim,fascinated.Abattleragedroundhimabouttheplightofthe whitePortugueseinMozambique,whichFrelimohadnowtakenover.Ithoughtof myfriendsthere,ofRajahandAmade,and'Vic'whohadputmeup.Givingthe monstrousnatureofmostsuccessfulpoliticians,Iwassurprisedtofindthat KubitschekwastheonlyonetherewhosesympathiesIthoughtcouldbetrusted. LaterItalkedtohimalone,inFrench,andfoundhimverypleasantandnotatall overbearing.Thearmy,ofcourse,hadrenderedhimpowerless,buthe maintainedhisdignityandshowednobitterness.Thisselfmade,selftaughtman withthepale,watchfulfacegavethelietoallmynotionsofwhataSouth AmericanPresidentshouldbe. Iwasundertheparticularwingofalovelydanceteacherwecalled'Lulu',who wasthemostenthusiasticandintelligentcompanionanymancouldhopefor.She hadfriendsandrelationsineverydirection,andwedrovealloverthemountains andbeachesinherVolkswagen,Brazil'suniversalcar,tastingeverykindoffruit andseafoodandexoticdrinkthatBrazilcouldprovide. WhenshewasteachingIwanderedroundonthebikeandonedayIfoundmy wayupanarrowroadtoanewvantagepointcalledtheVistaChinesa.High aboveRioIlookeddownonthebiglagoonandCopacabana.Themountainsrise uptallandthinandroundedontoplikethedivisionsofapapiermacheeggbox, andthecityissqueezedinamongthem.Inthedeepcleftsthehighriseblocks risehigherandhigher,addingalwaysonemorefloorofpricelesspropertyon everylot,andthevillasswarmupthemountainsides,clingingevermore precariously.Thelagoon,asstillasglass,mirrorsitall.Rioshouldreallybeseen fromtheair.

Lookingoverthebushesinfrontofthemockpagoda,astirandawhirrcaughtmy attention,andahummingbirdappearedinfrontofme.Itflashedblackandblue andgreenandIthoughtitwasthesmallestthingIhadeverseenandthemost marvellous.Itwasapulsatingmasterpiecehangingonablurrofpuremovement, itswingsnomorevisiblethanaheathaze.Itdippeditsneedlelikebeakintoa blossom.ThenitvanishedIswearitalmostdidandreappearedafootaway, motionlessagainexceptfortheslighttremorintheenvelopingair.Myeyeswould haveswalloweditwholeiftheycould.Whenitdartedoutofsightalittlelater,Ifelt asthoughIhadbeenrootedtothespotforanage.Itwasoneofthosefew momentswhichIfeltcouldjustifyone'sentirelife.Imadeanotethat'magicwas simplyexperiencingsomethingforthefirsttime'.Itoccurredtomeatthesame timethatmypurposeshouldbetoincreasethenumberofsuchmomentsuntil maybe,oneday,everythingcouldbemagic. ItwasspringinBrazil,andanidealtemperatureforthebeach.Luluhada particularlywellplacedrelationwithahouseatBuzios,amostdesirablebeach becausebyafreaktwistofthecoastlineitfacedwestinsteadofeast,whichgave itshelterandalsoaspectacularsunset.Thatweekendremainedinmymindas probablythemostidyllicofmylife,andheldthequintessenceofwhatBrazilhad tooffer. Wewanderedawayfromthemainbeachacrosstoasmallerone,perfectly shaped,totallydeserted.Iswamawhilealongtheclifffaceinthecrystalclear water,andthenstretchedoutonarockonthebeachtoread., Shewasstandingontheshiningwetsand,lookingdubiouslyatherown footprints.Behindherthegreenmountains,patchedwithbananaandcactus, rushedupintoabluesky. 'Howisitwhentheydothetriplejump?'sheasked. Shestoodloosely,withthecomical,awkwardlookdancerssometimeshave whentheyarenottellingtheirbodieswhattodo.Shewasfrowninglikeaclown andrunningherindexfingersroundherthighsunderherbikinibottomwhereit hadriddenup.Inthesmallofherback,wherestrongmuscleheldtheedgeofthe bikiniawayfromherspine,Inoticedastreakofsalty,sunbleachedhair. 'Ohtellmeplease,howdoesitgo,thetriplejump?'Shepronouncedit'tripel'. ShehadawayofpleadingforthingsinherBrazilianEnglishtomakeyou understandthattheywerematterssimultaneouslyofnoconsequenceandoflife anddeath.Youcouldrefuse,andnothingwouldbechangedoryoucouldgive, andearnundyinggratitude.Itwasagreatgift,whichshehadwonbylongeffort andsorrowandlaughter.Itwasthehumorousresidueofacravingwhichhad oncebeencorrosiveenoughtoetchherface. 'Isthatthehop,skipandjump?'IaskedlazilyfromtherockwhereIwassitting andreading.Ididnotwanttoleavemybook.Ihadmyleftlegoverthesidewith thefootinthesand.Everythirtysecondsorsothemovementsofthewater combinedtosendawaveswishingalongthesideoftherock,coveringmylegup tothekneeandcoolingit.Ifeltthesun'sheatflowingthroughmeintothesea. Treallydon'tknow,'Isaid.'Why?What'sfascinatingyou?'Shehadaskedabout thetriplejumponcebefore,Iremembered,inRio. Tdon'tknow,'shesaid,eachwordlongdrawnoutandhusky.'Iamgoingtotryit anyway.'

Shepursedhermouthanddidacoltishsprintalongthesandfinishingwithboth feettogether.Shestoodforawhilewiththesunonherback,herfaceinshadow, lookingagainattheprintsshehadleft. Iwatchedherstill,exploringtheshapeofherbody.Iwouldhaveexpecteda dancer'sbodytobeharder,toshowmoremuscle.Herlimbswereroundedand smooth,herthighsfilledoutandtouchingtomakeanairytrianglebelowthe bikini,herbellycurveddownfromasinglecrease atthenavel.Thesmooth,firm,wellproportionedbodyofatwentyyearold.Only, knowingshewasthirtysix,Icouldappreciatewhatdancinghaddoneforher. Funny,though,thathercalveshadnoneofthatribbedangularity.FunnytoothatI wasn'tinlovewithher. Fusedwiththewonderful,liquidwarmththatflowedroundmeontherock,so tangiblethatitfeltlikeanotherelementtocomplementthesaltyheavinessofthe sea,wasawarmthoffeelingforthiswomanthatwasasclosetoloveastheskin istotheflesh.Perhapsitwoulddoaswell,Ithought.Insomewaysitmighteven bebetter.Andshelovedme.Iknowthat.Only... IputIslandsintheStreamfacedownontherockatpage241.Strangetobe readingHemingwayagain,aftersolong,onthisbeach,onthiscoast.Justfora momentIcouldimaginehisblearyheroesbitchingateachotherrighthere,game fishingformetaphorsinthesesamebluecrystallinewaters,drowninginan eternalroundoffancyalcohol,fuckinguptheplacewiththeirmanlypursuits.The imagewasimpossibletosustain.Itmusthavediedwithhim. IwalkedovertowhereLuluwasstanding,ontheshiningwetsand,withitsfaint brownwashofironglitteringwithfool'sgold. 'Look,Iamgoingtojumpagain.Now,youwatchmeandseewhatIdo.' Shetookashortrunandjumped.IthoughtIrepresentedthedifferencebetween adancerandanathlete.Thepowerwasinadifferentplace.Idrewlinesonthe sandwithmytoetomarkoffherjump.Itwasaboutsixfeetlong.ThenIranand jumpedtoo.Myjumpwasscarcelybetter.Acoupleofinches,maybe.We laughedateachother. 'Whatdoyouexpectfromanoldman?'Isaid. 'Youarenotanoldman,'shesaid,'andIamanoldwoman.' Weranandjumpedsomemore,andImanagedtoputonanothertwoorthree feet.ThenIpacedoutthedistanceIassociatedvaguelywiththeOlympicrecord, andwelookedatthefarawaymarkwithawe. Shetookmyhandandsaid,'Oh,Tedjy.'Ismiledather,butinsteadofpullingher downontothesandIranintothesea,playingforlaughswithasilly,high steppingtrot,draggingherreluctantlybehindmeuntilwebothfellintothewater. Whenwecameout,shewantedtogobacktotheotherbeach.Iwouldhaveliked toclimbbackontomyrock,toreadsomemoreaboutfrozendaiquirisand'High Bolitas',andimpossiblebattleswithlegendaryswordfish,butIdidn'tobject,and wewalkedback,kickingthesugarysand,towardstheotherrockswherethelittle browngullybeganthatwentupthroughthescrubandoverthepromontoryback toBuzios. Therewasashelfofrockthatslopedintothesea,wheretherewereclustersof smallmusselsinthewashofseawater,theirshellsgapinglikethebeaksof fledglingsinanest. 'Wecouldcooksomemussels,'Isaid.'Haveyougotanymatches?' 'Isitalright?Wewon'tbekilled?'

Shewasnotreallyworried.Shetrustedme. 'Ofcourseit'salright,'Isaid,thoughIhadnevercookedmusselsonabeach before.'Youjusthavetomakesurethey'realive.'Whatnonsense,Ithought, lookingdownatthem.You'renotbuyingthemoffabarrow!Howcouldtheybe anythingbutalive?Eitheraliveorempty. Wefoundsomebiggerstonesandbuiltafireplaceagainstthewind.Wepulled somedriedsticksoutofthescrub.Theywereaslightasstraws,andants scurriedoutofthemthroughlittleholes.Shefoundapieceofroundclayrooftile andIlaiditsothatwhenthemusselsopenedintheheatthejuicewouldrunoff alongthetileinsteadofputtingoutthefire.Ibecameveryexcitedbytheideaof makingamealoffthissmallareaofrock,andasIworkedIthoughtaboutliving onabeachlikethis.Thevegetationbeganimmediatelybehindthesand,atthe firstriseoftheground.Bananasgrewthereinplenty.Otherfruitswouldcertainly growtherealso.Vegetablestoo.Theseawasrichwithfish,prawns,lobsters.All alongthecoastwerehutsandsheltersbuiltofwood,splitbambooandbanana leafthatch.Myheartsangwithjoyjustintheknowledgethatsuchalifewas possible.Theworldchangedforme.FromthatmomentonIwouldalwaysknow thattherewasabeachinBrazil,ifnotthisbeachthenabeach,whereIcouldgo andbecomewholeagain.Whatajourneythishasbecome,Ithought. Thefireitwasreallymorelikeanoven,withaflatstoneontoptoreflectthe heatdownontothemusselsworkedverywell.Thefirstmusselswereorange andmeatyandsheatethemreadily,sayinghowgoodtheywere.Thenthere weresomewhiteonesandshedidnotlikethelookofthem,soIatethewhite ones,andlatershedidtoo.Theywereallverysmall.Itwouldbehardworkliving offthese,Ithought. 'It'sjustaboutperfecthere,'Isaid. 'Whatabeautifulovenwehave,'shesaid.'It'ssogoodTedgy.Let'shavesome more.' Wegotthroughaboutfourdozen.Thenshegotsomecigarettesoutofthelittle pocketinhercapwhichwasmadeofscrapsofoldjeansandremindedmeofthe oneJeanneMoreauworeinJulesetJim. Iwatchedaboatrushroundthebaypullingawomanonskis.Shedidn'tlookvery secure.Probablysheshouldstraightenherlegsandleanbackmore,Idecided.I hadonlywaterskiedonce,justlongenoughtoknowIcoulddoit.Ihadtried severalnewthingsinthatway.Iwasn'treallyinterestedindoingthem,just knowingthatIcould.Thatwouldn'thavebeengoodenoughforHemingway,I thought.Well,Hemingway didn'trideamotorcycleeighteenthousandmilesthroughAfricaandBrazil.AndI don'tstopeveryhourforafrozendaiquirieither,Ithought.ThenIlaughedat myself. 'Whatareyoulaughing,Tedjy?'Ilaughedagain. 'Justhappy,'Isaid.Ididfeelveryhappy.ImadeamentalnotethatIwishedI wouldgiveupsmoking,butcouldn't.Eventhatdidn'tspoilmyhappiness. ItookaloopinginlandcircuitfromRiotoseetheoldgoldrushtownsofOuro PretoandTiradentes,andtheethereallylovelychurchofCongonhas,before comingsouthtoSaoPaulo.ThereIdeliveredtheswordtomyEgyptianfriend, whotomyamazementhadgottherebeforeme.Idon'tknowwhichofuswas moreastonished.Hetoldmethathehadgivensumsofmoneytoadozen

strangerslikemyselftopostonforhim,neverlessthan$2,000,andeveryone hadhonouredhispromise. ThetwohundredandfiftymilesfromSaoPaulotoCuritibawereextremely uncomfortable,dirtyanddangerous.Theroadwasbreakingup,andranalongthe crownofarangeofhillsoftenincloud.Heavydieseltrafficchargedthefogwith oildroplets,andcoveredthevisorwithtar.Boththethrottleandclutchcable seizedandtheordeallastednonstopforeighthours.Iarrivedfrozen,filthyand wet,butthenaturalbalanceofpainandpleasurewasrapidlyrestored.A motorcycleenthusiastsnatchedmeoffthestreetsandgavemeawarmshower, food,abedandanintroductiontothekindofcivilizationthatsouthernBrazilcan offer. Hewasafat,warmteddybearofamanwithalimpandbigbushymoustache, andhisneatandprettywifeadoredhim.Heandhisfriends,the'motoqueros',all ownedexpensivethreecylinderSuzukis,andkepteveryspokepolished.They gatheredinaspecialplaceintheevenings,likeafloatingmotorcycleshowroom, andlookedenviouslyatmyscuffedandbatteredworkhorseparkedamongthem. Icouldnothelpbeingsaddenedthatsomuchfinemachinerywassocompletely underused.Itfeltalmostsinful.Ifonlymachinescouldspeaktoeachother,I thought,thatwouldbeaconversationIwouldliketooverhear. Inoticedthatmyfriend,Marcio,wasnottheonlyonewithapaunch.SinceRio mostofthemenImetseemedwellfedandfondledtheirstomachsoftenthrough theirjerseyknitwear.ItstruckmethatIcouldscarcelyrememberafatmannorth ofRio,butIdidrecallaconversationwithablackshoeshineboywhohadbeen amazedwhenIdescribedhowItravelled.Hethoughtitwouldbeimpossiblefor metogetenoughtoeat.'Youhavetoeatsomanymorethingsthanus,'hesaid, pattinghisveryhardflatstomach.IrealizedwithashockthathereallybelievedI belongedtoadifferentspeciesandrequiredaquitedifferentdiet.NowIhadto admitthatIdidseemtobeamongadifferentspecies,andinadifferentcountry. AtIguacu,whereBrazil,ArgentinaandParaguaymeet,IchoseArgentina,and wandereddownpasttheoldJesuitsettlementsofMissionesintothegreatbeefy heartlandofArgentina.ThesadandviolenthistoryofArgentinawaseruptingall aroundme.Thereweredailyshootings.Revolutionandevergreaterrepression wereinevitable.Finesentimentswerelikefrothonthelipsofadyingman.Every shoutof'Liberty'droveanothernailinthecoffin,and'Democracy'cametosound tomelikeadirtyword. Yetinthisbigopenlandallthevanityandvenomofpubliclifeseemedlikethe squabblingofchildreninthewingsofavastandemptystage.Onlythechocolate melancholyofthetangofollowedmeacrossthePampa. IthinkitwasinArgentinathatIturnedprofessional.Ihadbeenontheroadfora yearIhadbeenveryhighandverylow,andeverywhereinbetween.Theworld nolongerthreatenedmeasithadIfeltIhadthemeasureofit. ItmusthavehelpedthatIwasinhorsecountry.IfeltverymuchthatIshared somethingofthegaucho'sviewoftheworld,andmyseatcertainlyfittedmy saddleascloselyashis.Ridingthebikewasasnaturalassittingonachair.It scarcelytiredmeatall.Icouldpackandunpackthebikewiththeautomatic familiarityofshaving,andIdidnotallowtheprospectofittoannoyme.Thesame wastrueforminormaintenanceproblems:apuncture,cleaningachain,aligning thewheels,whateveritwas.Ididitwithoutgivingathoughttotheinconvenience. Thesethingswerefactsoflife.Isleptonthegroundmoreoften,andmybones

begantoarrangethemselvesaccordingly.TheairbedwaspuncturedandIdid notbotherwithitmuch.Ihadahammock,awonderfuloldhammockmadefora marriedcouple,andbequeathedtomebyLulu'sgrandmother.Itreasureditand useditasoftenaspossible,findingitverycomfortable. Ifeltverymuchtriedandseasoned,andnolongerexpectedtomakesilly mistakesorconfrontunexpectedhazards.Ihadalsodevelopedabatteryof usefulinstincts.Iknewwhentherewerethievesaround,whenthebikehadtobe protected,andwhenitwassafe.Moreoftenthannotitwassafe.Iknewwhento expecttroublefromstrangers,andhowtodefuseit.Iknewwhatdriversofcars andlorriesweregoingtodobeforetheyknewitthemselves.AttimesIthinkI couldevenreadthemindsofstraydogs,thoughitwasararitytoseeoneonthe highwaythatwasnotalreadyapulpedcarcassattheroadside. InthenaturalparadiseoftheSouthernAndesIcrossedovertoChileandthe longawaitedPacificOcean.IcontinuedmypoliticaleducationinSantiagowhich wasstillinthegripofcurfewsandthethroesofnightly shootingsinthestreetstortureintheprisonsandstarvationintheslums. ThenagainIcrossedthemountains,thistimeattenthousandfeet,toMendoza. NorthofMendozatheparchedbonesoftheAndessprawlinthewaterlesswastes ofSanJuan,RiojaandCatamarca.Irodefromoasistooasis,comingupatlast tothefertilevalleysofTucumanandSaltawhereIspentmysecondChristmas. Andin1975IbeganmyjourneyalongtheroofoftheAmericas,inBoliviaat fourteenthousandfeet. Antoineusuallydidtheshoppingforthethreeofus.Brunodroveandnursedtheir batteredRenaultvan.IfIhadaroleonthemotorcycleitwastoexploretheroute aheadandfindgoodplacesforustoeatandspendanight.Andsometimes, comingintoasmalltown,Ifeltliketheadvancemanforatravellingcircus. ItwasmidafternoonwhenwestoppedinAbancaytobuyfoodand,well,justto stopforawhile.Thestreetswerecomingtolifeafterthesiesta.InthosePeruvian valleysthesunrisesateightandsetsatfour,althoughlightpoursacrossthe mountaintopsforthenormalnumberofhours.Whenthesundoesbecome visibleabovethepeakstheheatbouncesdowntwomilesofmountainsideto collectatthebottomaroundthepalmsandcactus,toroastthebigstonesinthe riverbedandtomakethethoughtofmovementdisagreeable.Thevalleymaybe atsixorseventhousandfeetabovesealevelbutatmiddayitisveryhot.Dogs exposetheirbelliesinthedust.Donkeysstandstillasthoughstuffed,withtheir headsbathedinshade.Inthesilentmudwalledhousestheshadowlooksthick asmolasses.Butthevalleyisnotadesert.Tumblingdownthemountainside comestreamsofwater.Therearegrains,fruit,vegetablesandflowersin abundance,astherewereinthetimeoftheIncas. Wewereparkedalongthekerbofthemainstreet.Brunowasstaringangrilyat hisengine. 'I'vehadituptoherewiththisheapofshit,'hehissedinFrench. BrunotreatedtheRenaultthewayhetreatedhorses,withalternateadmiration andcontempt.Iwatchedsympathetically,enjoyingmyself,sittingonthebikea fewyardsawayandrestingmyforearmsandknees.Thelongdescentsintothe valleysoverstonydirtroadswereworseforme,aconstantjarringfromwriststo shoulders,withmykneesdrivingintotheleatherbagsslungacrossthetank.

IalwayslikedwatchingBruno.Hedideverythingwithananimalgravitywhich endedeitheringleefulsatisfactionoranexplosionofrage.I wasnotfarfromthinkingofhimasmyson.Hehadjustlosthisfatherandwas perhapsstilllookingforhim. ThemenofthissmalltowninPerudidnotcrowdaroundmeastheywouldhave inacity.TheIndiansasalwaysappearedtobeperfectlyindifferent.Thosewith moreSpanishbloodshowedtheircuriosity,atadistance.Alargebelliedmanin whiteshirtandtrouserspresentedhimselfinaceremonialfashion,asthoughhis fatnessentitledhimtorepresenttheothermen,whoweremostlythin. 'Whereareyougoingonthispoderosa?'hesaidinSpanish,verycondescending. TamgoingtoLima,'Isaid,carefultomaintainthesamesteadysmile.Experience hadtaughtmethedelicateartoftheseexchanges.Eagernesscouldbean embarrassment.Bettertokeepaclosemouthandsavourthetension. 'Ydedondeviene?' TcomefromEngland.' Once,inBolivia,Ihadmadethesamereply,butthemanIwastalkingtothere hadneverheardofEngland.NowIwatchedtoseewhatEnglandmightmeanin Abancay.AnIndianwomanwalkedpastwithquicksteps,draggingasmallblack andwhitepigonastring.Hergazebarelyflickered. 'Youhavecomeonalongjourney.' 'Yes,'Isaid.'Ithasbeensixteenmonths.' 'Andwhendoyouhopetoregainyourfamily?' 'Inoneyear,orperhapstwo.' 'Goodluck,'hesaid.'Youhavemuchcourage.' Therewasaflashofgoldteeth,andhetookoffhishat.Acrowdroppedasmall medallionofblackandwhiteshitonthecrownofhishead.Hereplacedhishat.* 'Thankyou,'Isaid. Antoinecamebackwithhisfacesmilingbutinwardlycomposed.Itwasrarelyany otherway.Hisshirtwasclean,hishairgroomed,andtherewasevenacreasein hissafaritrousers.Hewassoigne,asthoughonactivediplomaticduty.Infact theybothhaddiplomaticpassports,havingbeenattachedtotheFrenchLegation inParaguay.BrunohadboughttheoldvaninAsuncionandwantedtodriveitto Mexico.AntoinewassharingthejourneyasfarasLima.Theybothspoke SpanishwithafluentFrenchaccent.Myaccentwasbetter,butmySpanishwas horrible. AntoineputbackonthedashboardofthevanthelittleParaguayanbowlwhere wekeptourmutualfunds,andreportedonhismission. Hehadsometomatoesandeggplantsandastrangegiantbean.Therewas nevermuchintheshops.Weallsharedthefeelingthatsomewherebehindthe sombreshelvesofsoapandwirewoolthegoodthingswerequicklyhiddenaway whenwecameinview.Therewasnohopeoffindingmeatatthistimeofday. Therewerenoeggs.Breadwasnotalocalfood.Weneversawanydairy productsasidefromtinsofcondensedmilk,althoughtherewasabrandof indestructiblethousandyearmargarine. 'Perhapsfurtheronwewillfindeggsandmangoes,'saidAntoine.'There'sa pumpdowntheroad,onthewayoutoftown,'Isaid.Brunoslammedthelidon theengine.'Thesalopewillnevermakeit,'heshouted. 'Tothepump?'Iasked,'ortoMexico?' 'Inanycase,'hesaid,'wewillnevergetupanothermountaintoday.'

Ishruggedandputonmyjacketandhelmetandgloves. I'llgoaheadandseeifIcanfindsomewhereforthenight,'Isaid. FromAbancaytheroadtothenorthrisessteeplyagain,toilingoverthe ascendingslopesforthirtyorfortymilesuntilitrunsfreeatlastwiththellamaand theeaglesattwelvethousandfeet.Itwouldhavebeengoodtogetabouthalfway upandspendthenightamongthegreenertrees,thesweeterspringsandthe fresherair.Iwonderedwhatwaswrongwiththevanthatitshouldlosesomuch power.Wehadtriedmanythings,allthethingsthatseemedmostobvious.At timesitwentwell,butusuallyitwassluggishandtoohot. Iwonderedwhethertoleavethemandgoonalone.Itwasalwaysthereasa possibility,quietlyunderstoodonbothsides.Ikeptallmythingsonthebike,even thoughitwouldhavebeeneasiertooffloadsomeofthemontothevan. IrememberedhowwehadmetatLaQuiaca,theBolivianbordertown,drawn togetherbythefrustrationsofthecustomshousethere.Afterwardswehadeaten togetherinthebigcanteenoverthebusstation,soupandrice,andbeansand sausageinaspicyredsauce.Wewereveryhappytohavefinishedwithallthe paperworkandthepaymentsofonedollarhere,twodollarsthere,forpiecesof paperwedidnotwantandwouldneverneed.Ourheartswerelightasmountain air,excitedbythejourneyswehadalreadyachieved,andbytheonesthatlay ahead. Itwasnaturalforustotravelontogetherthatday.Wecircledtherimofan immensebowl,thousandsoffeetdeep.Ihadoftenanticipatedinmyimagination thevertiginousdropsoftheAndes,buthadnotexpectedsosoontofindmyself ridingsoclosetotheedgeofnothing.Icouldseethevanacrossthisvastupside downspace,awhitishspeckcrawlingalong,andattimesIimaginedBrunoand Antoineinside,exchangingdesultorycomments.Iknewitwasdustyinthere,and thattheirvisionwaslimited,andIwasgladtobeoutsideandalone,freeto escapefrommyownordinarinessandthetrainofotherpeople'sthoughts. Butatnightitwasfinetoshareamealandtalk,tohearaboutthethings IhadmissedandthethoughtsIhadnothad.Soitwenton,daybyday,but alwaysathingofthemoment.Andwhen,inPotosi,Brunowantedtogoonto SucreandIwantedtostayandwrite,itwastheeasiestthingtoseparate, perhapsforever,justasitwastheeasiestthingforustofindeachotheragain, asifbychance,aweeklaterinLaPaz.Weguardedeachother'slibertyas thoughitwereourown. Onlysometimesitwasnotsoeasy,andyouhadtopaythepriceforcompany. OnthethirddayafterLaQuiaca,justpastnoonandinbrightsunshine,wecame upthehighestroadIhaveevertravelled,perhapsthehighestintheworld,at sixteenthousandfeetormore.AheadofusapartyofIndianswascrossingthe roadinprocession.BolivianIndiansareamongtheworld'spoorestandtheylead aharshlife.Mostoftheirclothingishomespunfromhanddyedwool,yetno companycouldhavelookedmoreprosperousandcontentthantheseIndiansas theyappearedbeforeusonthe10thofJanuary1975.Wepassedthemby,and thenstopped,entranced.Themenweresmilingenthusiasticallyandsalutingas theycameuptous.Mostofthemwerecarryingpotteryvesselsorclothwrapped bundles. Brunoaskedtheleaderwheretheyweregoing. 'ToOtavi,'hereplied,pointingoveralongriseofstonyground,partlycultivated formaize,wherehouseswerejustvisible.

'ItistheFeastoftheKings.Youareinvited.' Theyseemedtrulyhappythatwehadarrivedatthispropitiousmoment,their happinessnolesssincereforhavingbeenreleasedbysomeofthecornbeer theycarriedinthepots. Itwasawonderfulchance.TheIndianscontinuedacrossthehillandwefound ourownroundaboutwaythere. Otaviisasmalltownofcobbledstreetsandadobehousesbuiltonasteep hillside.Weclimbedthemainstreetstillbuoyedupbythegaietyandsplendourof theIndianswehadmetontheroad.ThenIbegantorealizethatthevillagewas inthegripofaquitedifferentmood.Thereweremanypeopleonthesidewalks, standing,leaning,squatting.Noonemoved.Noonespoke.Ihadtheimpression ofwalkingthroughamuseumofethnicculture. Ofcoursetherewassoundandmovementofakind.Peoplestillbreathed,and scratchedthemselvesandraisedcocaleavestotheirmouths.Theyfollowedus withtheireyes,butaspellhadbeencastoverthemanditwaslikebeingwatched bypebblesonabeach. Onourleftwasahousewithamoreimposingroof.Asignidentifieditasthe 'Corregimiento',ormagistrate'soffice.Thesomnolentbystanderswerethickest here.Thedoorswereopentorevealpeoplearguingandgesturing,instrange contrasttotheentrancedpavementsoutside. Westoodwonderingwhattodo.AlreadyIwasabsorbedinthisworldofstone, plaster,limewash,naturalwoodandhide,sunbleachedwoolandbright vegetabledyesarrangedinbrillianttraditionalpatterns.Thenanothermanlooking asoutlandishaswedid,inagreencorduroyjacketandaporkpiehat,came hurryingdownthehilltowardsusliketheWhiteRabbitinWonderland. HespokefluentlyandeloquentlyinSpanish,whichwasunusualoutthere,andhe wantedtotellusabouthisfish.Thiswasafishhehadbroughtwithhimfrom Argentina,butIwasneverabletograspitssignificancebecausehewasquite drunk. Anothermanwithacrazyblackfacecametojoinusthen.Hewasaltogethertoo drunktospeakatall,buthewavedhisarmsinlargemeaningfulswoops,andthe twoofthemsurroundedusandboreusawayonatour. 'Churchill,Franco,deGaulle,Truman.Iknowthemallsaid WhiteRabbit.He spokewithabandonabouteconomicimperialism,militaryjuntasandexploitation, whileCrazyFaceconductedtheflowofwordswithhisarms.Westrolledonpast therowsofenchantedspectators,anditatlastcamethroughtomethat everybodyintownwassimultaneouslystonedandsquiffyoncocaineandalcohol. Ittranspiredthatthecorregidorhadforbiddentheannualprocessionandfiesta. Greatnegotiationswereinprogresswhilethewouldberevellerscoulddonothing butdrinktheirchicha,chewtheirleaf,andbecomesilentlyblotto. Twowomenwalkedpastsidebyside,crooningandcarryingwhiteflags,followed byseveralchildrenandanoldmanwithalongcurvedbamboowoodwind,but thisunofficialprocessiondiedbeforeoureyes.Theoldmantriedtoplayforus, producingthreedismalhonkingnotesandspraysofsalivaashisdrunkenlips failedtoholdontothemouthpiece. Weinspectedthechapelatthetopofthehill.Mostofthestuccohadpeeledoffit, andoldcronessatintheshadeoftheentranceleaningstupefiedagainstthe chapelwalls.

Yetthereweresomeenergeticspiritsandtheyweredeterminedtocreatesome sortofpageantaroundus,andtheypressedustostayanddrinkandwaitforthe funtostart.Inevitablywewerenervous,wonderingwhatwouldhappentousif thiswholedamneddrunkentownshouldspringtolifeinafullbloodedfiesta.We hadtodecidebecausewewereagroup,andifwewantedtogettoPotosithat daywewouldhavetoleavesoon.Somehowweletourfearsspeakforusinthe nameofwisdomandweleft. Alone,Iwouldhavestayed,andlearnedmuchmoreaboutthosepeople.The chancedidnotcomemywayagain. Thereisawaytoconvertfearintopositiveenergy.WhenIhaddiscovereditfor myselfalongtheway,Iuseditquitedeliberatelytoproject confidenceandsympathy.Ithadneverfailedme,anditgavemeanunusualand exhilaratingsenseofpowerovercircumstance.Butitseemedtofunctiononly whenIwasalone. SoasIleftAbancayandstartedclimbingthedirtroadIwonderedwhetheritwas time,again,togoonalone,nottogofasterbutbecauseIthoughtImightlosemy powerinthegroup.ThenIputthematteraside,satisfiedwithhavingbroughtitto myattention,thinkingTTIknowwhenthemomentcomes',andIsetaboutlooking foraplacewherewecouldcookandeatandsleep. Theleastweneededwasalevelareatoparkthevanandpitchatent.Fora whiletherewasnothing.Small,terracedallotments,heavilycultivated,occupied everycornerofopengroundamongtherocksandbushes.Then,atthetenth kilometrestone,apathopenedofftotherightintoagentlyslopingfieldsparsely plantedwitholivetrees.Itwasdryandstony,andnotveryinviting,butitwould do. Itwasjustthetimeofdaywhenmyhallucinationscametotrymeout.Theywere ofthecrassestkindpossible.Usuallytheybeganwithnothingmoreoriginalthan acoldbottleofbeer.WhenmyappetitewassufficientlyinflamedIwouldgoonto lobster,roastbeefandrealcoffee,followedbyanaccidentalmeetingwitha perfectandmostlovingwomaninalarge,cleanbed.SometimesIwouldconjure upthesettingsfortheseindulgencesbutitwashardlyworthbothering.Theywere alwaysroughlysimilar,andinvolvedcleantablelinen,polishedglassware,bath roomswithtowelsandanabundanceoffriendlyhospitalityandadmiration.Asthe afternoonsturnedtoeveningsandIbegantowonderwhereIwouldeatandsleep thatnight,thistelevisionsetturnedoninmyheadandsubjectedmetotrialby advertisement,hittingmeinexorablywitheveryoneofmyknowncravingsinturn. Itwasnotmyappetiteforcoldbeerorperfectlovingwomenthatshamedand appalledmeatthosetimes,itwasthefactthatIallowedtheseimagestooppress mewhentheywereclearlyunattainable,andtomakewhatwasthereandreal andwithinmygraspseemundesirable.Undertheinfluenceoftheselobsterand champagneravingsIbecametheperfectsucker,vulnerabletotheshoddiest substitutes.ForlackofcoldbeerIwouldwastemoneyonwarmcoke,andhateit. Iwouldfallpreytoanyhotelsign,knowingfullwellthatfarfromenjoyingaclean bedandlovingwomenIwouldbeshutupinadirty,foetidboxwithahundred mosquitoes. Itissaidthatatthreeorfourinthemorningthebodyisphysicallyatitslowest ebb,butitwasatfiveintheafternoon,atthecocktailhour,thatmymorale slumped,andthetemptationscametomeinthewilderness.Ifoughtthemas bestIcouldthroughalltheyearsofthejourneyandalways,whenIwon,Iwas

handsomelyrewarded.Icarriedastockofmemoriesofmagicaleveningsout aloneinthewild,completelysatisfiedbythesimplefoodIhadcooked,listeningto thesilenceandtoastingthestarsinaglassoftea,andIusedthesememoriesas myblindfoldagainstthegrosssirensthatbeckonedwiththeirneonsmiles. Successwasbuiltonsuccess,andsometimesIwasabletocarrythrougha victoriouscampaignfordaysorweeksonend,becominghardierandhappierwith eachsucceedingday.Butthewarcouldneverbetrulywon.Soonerorlatersome warmgenerouspersononmytailwouldoffer,unsolicited,someorevenallofthe delightsIhadlearnedtoignore.Then,whenitwastimetoleave,thestruggle wouldbeginalloveragain.LikeageneralIwasonlyasgoodasmylastbattle. Yetthetormentonlyeverlastedforanhourineverytwentyfour.Duringtheday, outintheworld,nomatterhowhardorcoldorwettheroadmightbe,Inever wishedIweresafeintheRitz.Moreoftentheroadwasneithercoldnorwet,andI feltmyselftobethemostprivilegedpersononearthtobeabletopassthrough whereotherssawonlynormality,andtothinkmyselfinparadise.WhileatnightI swamlazilyamongmysteriousandpotentdreams. Andstill...duringthedaysbeforeImetAntoineandBrunoatLaQuiacamy moralehadbeensaggingbadly.IhadleftSantiagowithaheavyheart.Iwanted company,andIknewthatwaswhyIwasnotreadytoleavethem.Theyprotected mefrommyfiveo'clockfollies,andIwasgratefultoknowtheywerechuggingup theroadbehindme,pleasantandfamiliarfriends. SoonthateveningoutsideAbancaymycerebralTVchannelwasshowinga differentprogramme.AsclearlyasifIstoodbeforeit,thewhitebuildinginthe distancebecamethestatelyhaciendathatsomewhereinSouthAmericaIhad alwayshopedtoencounter.Isawtherichlymouldedplasterworkframingheavy woodendoorsstuddedwithblackironfloorsofgleaminghardwoodpolishedand hammeredbygenerationsofleatherbootsancestralportraitsofSpanish swordsmeninlaceandbreastplatestiffwhitetablelinensplashedwiththe crimsongeometryofcandlelightpassingthroughcutglassgobletsofwineand myselfdeepinaleatherarmchair,listeningtomyhosttelltalesoftheConquest, asIgazedupatthewhitefacesofhisperfectdaughtersflittingcoylybehindthe railsofthegallerybeneaththecofferedceiling. WithasighIstoppedthebikeandwaited.Itwasnotmanyminutesbeforethe dustywhitevanlabouredintosight.Weturnedintothefieldandchoseagood spot.Antoinegotouttheplasticwatercarrierandwealldranksomewarmish water.Ithrewmyredbagandjackettotheground,andaddedmyhelmettothe pile.Brunoliftedthehoodofthevanandbeganagaintowonderwhathecould dototheengine. 'There'sahouseoverthere,'Isaid.Theyhadnotnoticed. 'I'llseewho'sthereandtellthemwhatwe'redoing.MaybeIcangetsomemeat,'I added,thinkingaboutthewineandthegirlsonthegallery.Irodealongthepath, aboutfivehundredyards,pastanareaofthickmarshygrass.Thehouseandits courtyardswereenclosedbyahighwallandasIapproached,thehousebecame hiddenfromview.Avanstoodoutsidethebrokenirongate,andthreemenwere talking.Twoofthemsaid'Adios'andlookedatmecuriously,thengotintotheir vananddroveoff.Thethirdmanwatchedme,withoutexpression,asIparkedthe bikeandwalkedtowardshim.HewassoplacedthatIstillcouldseenothingof thehouse.'BuenasdiasIsaid.

'Buenasdiashereplied,andwaitedasIcomposedmySpanish.'Weareinthe fielddownthere,'Isaid.'Wearethree.Wehopetospendthenightthere.' 'Ifyoulike,'hesaid,andfellsilentagain.HewashalfSpanishandworeshabby Westernclothing.Hisshirtwasbuttonedtightlyattheneck,andInoticedagreat manyreddotsonhisskinabovethecollarandonhisarmsbelowtheshort sleeves. 'Wewouldliketobuysomemeatifyouplease.' 'Thereisnomeat,'hesaid,withoutemphasisorexplanation. Ifpossible,wewouldliketobuyachicken.'Isuggested. 'Thereisnochicken,'hesaid. ThistimeIsimplywatchedhim,patiently,untilhefeltobligedtofillthevacuum. 'Wesellallourmeattothebuyerofmeat.Youcanaskhim.''Thankyou,Senor.I willtry.Whereishishouse?''Atthirtythreekilometres,'hesaid. IcouldnotmakesenseofhisreplyasIfeltsurethebuyerwouldbeintown,and pointedthatway. 'No,'hesaid.'Atthethirtythirdkilometre,'andwavedtowardsthemountain. 'Hehasahouse?'Iasked.Itwasapoorquestion,butIcouldthinkofnothing better.AlreadyIwasfeelingslightlyuneasy. 'Yes,hehasahouse,'hereplied.Againsilence.Hewasshroudedinsilence.Or hewaslisteningtosoundsIcouldnothear. 'Bueno.Muchasgracias.'SlowlyIturnedtowardsthebike,hopingthathemight addsomething,buthesimplystoodandwatchedmerideaway. Itmeantridingnineteenkilometres.ItoldBrunoandAntoinewhatIwasdoing andsetoffuptheroad.Itcontinuedtoclimbsteeplyandtheairgrewcooler.The treeswereleafier,andapleasantbrookbubbledalongtheroadside.Somegoats, startledontheirwayhome,skitteredupanalmostverticalfaceofrocksand bushes,andasmallgirl,halftheirsize,shoutedandrushedafterthematthe samespeed,herlongskirtsflying.Wheretheroadcurvedroundaspurafew mudandwattlehutsstoodamongbananatreesonashelfofgroundoverhanging thevalley.AnIndianwomanwashoeinghercorn.Iaskedfor'themanwhobuys meat'butsheshookherheadhelplessly.Beyondthesehutstherewasnofurther signofhumanhabitation.Ipassedthe33rdkilometrestone.Thevegetation thinned,andlargeareasofthemountainsidewerebare.Itseemedabsurdto supposethatameatwholesalerwouldhavehiswarehouseatthetopofa mountain.Myembarrassmentandindignationwelledupatideoffury.Ihad allowedmyselftowantthemeat(andthesherryandthedaughters)andithad mademestupid. Iturnedaround,storingupangerforthemanwhohadsentmeonthismad errand,determinedtoconfronthim,preparingphraseswhichwouldshamehim intotellingmethetruth.Icouldnotconceivethathehadinventedthemeatbuyer, butatthesametimeIimaginedhislaughterashewatchedmeroaringoffandup themountain. AsIpassedBrunoandAntoineIcouldhardlygetawordout.Astonishingly,the manwasstillstandingnearthegate.Asbeforehewatchedmegetoffthebike andwalktowardshim. 'Thereisnobodyupthere,Senor,'Isaid,tightlipped. 'Youcouldnotfindhim?'heasked. 'Thereisnothingthere,'Isaid.'Nohouse,nopeople.' 'Well,'hesaid,'thereissomemeat.Pleasecomewithme.'

Hisfacebetrayednoreaction,nohintofmockery,butthevoicewas,Ithought, faintlytingedwithinterest.Bewildered,Ifollowedhimthroughthegate. Thehousewasnowrevealedinallitsglory,butitwasthegloryoftotaldecay. Windowswithoutframesstaredblanklyfrompeelingandcrackedwalls.Broken shuttershungdrunkenlybyonehinge.Aoncemagnificentporchwaslitteredwith wreckedfurnitureandmasonryrubbish,andthelathandplasterceilingaboveit bellieddownlikethebreastbonesofadecomposingwhale.Wewalkedtowardsit acrossamuddyandunkemptyard.Awaveofathleticpigssweptacrossourpath, drivingfrantichensinalldirections.InadarkcorneroftheporchanoldIndian womanbundledupinblacksatspinningyarn,allherlifeapparentlyconcentrated inherfingersastheflossofwoolflowedfromherrighthandtothetwirlingbobbin inherleft.TherewereafewyoungermenandwomenmovingorstandingbutI couldnottellwhethertheyhadanypurpose.Thesenseofcollapsewasgeneral andoverwhelming. Themanwiththespotsaskedmetowaitamomentwhilehewentintothehouse. IwishIhadgoneinwithhim,forIneversawtheinside,butmyattentionwas caughtbyalargeblueprintpinnedtothewall.Itwasadiagramheaded'Co operativedel24Junio',anditsetouttheorganizationofthecooperative,with thechairmanandhiscouncilontopandthedescendingchainofcommandand responsibility.Itwassufficientlyelaboratetobeinteresting,andsimpleenoughto becredible.InfarawayLimaIimaginedthispieceofpapermusthaveimpressed anumberofpeople.'Nowherewehaveour"24Junio".Yousee,ourreformsare goingwell.Thepeoplearereallytakingthelandintotheirownhands.Theyhave afinebuildingtheretoo,fortheirmeetingsandrecreation.Theoriginallandlord describedittome.Heisafriendofmine,youknowafriendoftherevolution.He livesinLima,ofcourse,withhisfourperfectdaughters...' Iwonderedwhetherthemanwithspotswasthechairman.Thenhecameoutand askedmeagaintofollowhim.MycravingshadsubsidedandIwasinamuch happierstate.Mysensesnowwerebristlingwithexcitementatthesightsand soundsandsmellsthatsurroundedme.Wewalkedroundthemainbuildingpast shedsandouthouses,andploddeduphillacrosssomefallowgrassland. EventuallywereachedaclusterofhutsliketheonesIhadseenfromtheroad. AnIndianwomancameouttowardsus,wipingherhandsonherembroidered apron.Shehadanicesmilingface.Ihadthestrangeimpressionthatwewere expected,asthoughshehadhadatelephonemessagethatwewerecoming,a ludicrousidea. Sheworeherstiffbrimmedblackhatsetverysquareonherhead,andherlong blackhairhungintwobraids.TheytalkedawhileintheIndianlanguage.Then themansaidtome: 'Thisismywife.Shewillshowyouthemeat.' Shesmiledatmeagainandledmeintoasmallerhut.Thelightoutsidewas alreadyfading,andinsideitwasverydark.Abarrelstoodthere,onend,openat thetop.ShepointedtoitandIsawitwasfullofrawmeatencrustedwithdried blood.Shepulledoutthefirstlumpandhelditupforinspection.Itwasa shapelessmassweighingmanykilos.Icouldnotguesswhichpartoftheanimalit was,onlythatitwascow. 'It'sverybig,'Isaid. ShegesturedthatIshouldlookformyself.Ilaidmyglovesasideonacrateand plungedmyhandsintothegorymess.AfterawhileIfoundapiecethatIliked

betterthantherest.Noneofitsmelledbad,andIcouldnotunderstandhowthe meatstayedfreshintheheatoftheday,withallthefliesaround,andnosaltor preservative.Theproblemfascinatedme,butmySpanishwasnotgoodenough toresolveit. ThepieceofmeatIhadchosenlookedquitegruesomeandwasstilltoolarge. Themanlaiditonatreestumpandchoppeditinhalfwithawoodaxe.Hiswife broughtayardarmandweighedoneofthehalves.Itcametojustundertwo kilos,andIpaidthepricewhichwashalfthepriceinthebutchers'shopswhen youcouldfindone. Icarriedthepieceawayinmybloodstainedfingers,stillconvincedthatitwould beinedible.IfeltthatIwaslivingthroughparttwoofacomplexandinscrutable hoax,butbynowIwasawillingaccomplice. AntoineandBrunodidnot,asIexpected,turnpalewithdisgustwhenIheldout mytrophy,soIgotbusyonthelumpwithmyknifeandtheircuttingboard,and foundthreefinebigsteaksinside.Thebitsandpieces,shornoftheircrusts,Iput asideforsoupstock.AsIworkedIdiscoveredapossiblereasonwhymyfriends seemedsoindifferent.WhenIheldmyheadstillaquiveringcloudformedinfront ofmyeyes,acurtainofshimmeringdotstoocloseforfocus.Iputmyhandtomy faceandfoundbloodonit,myownblood.Theflies,forthatiswhattheywere, weresmall,noiseless,numerousandavariciousbeyondbelief.Theirbodies, whenyoucouldseeone,werecustardyellow,buttheywerehardlybiggerthan fruitflies.Theyseemedtochewtheirwayintotheskinsothatthebloodwelled outingouts. Ihaveneverbeenabletomakemypeacewithmosquitoes,andtheyhave troubledmeinmostpartsoftheworld.SomepeopleIknowhavetaught themselvestobeundisturbed.ItusedtoimpressmetowatchFatherWalshin Fortaleza,talkingcalmlyorwatchingtelevisionwhileseveralofthehugehump backedmosquitoestheyhadtherefedcontentedlyonhisforehead.By comparisonIwasasagitatedasascarecrowinagale.Heusedtosaythatas theywerenotAnophelestherewasnodangerofmalariaand,furthermore,there wasnopointinkillingthemoncetheygotstarted,sincetheirritationcamefrom theanticoagulanttheyinjectedfirst.Ifyouletthemgetonwithit,thechances were,hesaid,thattheywouldsuckmostofthepoisonoutagain.Itseemeda mostrationalandsaintlyattitude,andrepresentedexactlythestyleofpragmatic holinesstheyallpractisedupthereatSaoRaimundo. Onemighthavethoughtthattravellingconstantlyandknowingthatanyirritations Imetalongthewaywouldsoonbeleftbehindwouldmakeiteasiertobearthese triflinginconveniences.Notso.Atleast,notforme.Theycouldbesuffered,but notdismissed. Asfortheanticoagulanttheory,thatdidnotworkformeeither.Itwasthe Buddhistswhoeventuallymademerealizethatifyouarewaitingforaspotto hurt,itwilldoitsbesttohurtyou.WhenIallowedtheinsecttohaveitsfillofmeI couldneverforgetthatIwasconductinganexperimentandinconsequenceit alwayshurt.SoIusedmymosquitonetandwavedmyarms,andcametoakind ofdynamicequilibriumwithmosquitoes. ButnotwiththefliesofAbancay.Theywereformetheinsectequivalentofthe Piranhafish,andIcouldalmostseetheirsawtoothedjawstearingintome.Iput upmynetasfastasIcouldandprayedthemeshwasfineenoughtokeepthem out.Iamluckyenoughnottosharethe

commonhorrorofslimy,creepyandslipperythings.Snakes,spiders,beetlesand wormsdonotdistressme,andoftenIfindthemfullofinterest,butthesesilent devourersofmyfleshfilledmewithloathing.Isworenevertostopanywhere againwheretherewasoneofthetinymonsterstobeseen,andsaidaprayer,in passing,fortheConquistadors. BrunosaidtherewasasimilarblackflyinParaguay,andheseemedmore resignedtoit,whileAntoineshowednovisiblereactionatallthatIcanremember. Whiletwilightlasted,twomencameridingpasttowardsthehouse,wearing scarvesandcowboyhatsandbroadleatherchapsor'pasamontes'.Atthat momentIrememberedthatIhadleftmyglovesbehindatthehut,andIcalledout tothem,sayingIwouldcomeinthemorningtocollectthem.Atthebackofmy mindwastheideathattheywouldbelesslikelytodisappearifitwasknownthatI wascomingbackforthem.ThenextmorningIdiscoveredmymistake. WhenIcametothehutIcouldnotfindmynice,smilingwoman.Therewasa strangecouplethere. 'Yes,'saidtheman,'Luishasyourgloves,togivetoyou.Nowhehasgoneoff intothemountainstohuntforcochineal,anditisimpossibletofindhim.But tonightortomorrowmorning,Sehor,havenofear,hewillbringthemtoyou.' Thelongconversationthatfollowedwasmerelytoexpressmyfrustration.Itwas clearlyfruitlessfromthestart.Themeathad,afterall,costmedear,foritwasa longtimebeforeIcouldfindanotherpairofsuitablegloves.Iconsoledmyself withtheknowledgethattheexperiencehadbeenpriceless,butstillIcursed myselfandallIndiansindiscriminately.Thenwesetoffupthemountain. Thevanwasnobetterthanthedaybefore.Itwasneveroutoffirstgear.Assoon asthesunappeareditbegantooverheatagain,andtheydrovewiththebonnet open.SinceBrunocouldnotseewherehewasgoing,Antoinehadtostandup andleanoutoftheopendoorcallingdirectionstoBruno.Inthisunlikelyfashion theywouldcreepupthemountaintowardsmeasIsatonsomepleasantrock besideariver,watchingandthinking.Ispentalotoftimethen,andlater,thinking aboutthemeatbuyer.ManydayslaterIlearnedthatitwasforbiddenbydecree forproducerstosellmeatprivately.Also,everyalternateweekhadbeendeclared 'meatless'tofavourexports.Ithoughtthatexplainedsomeofit,butbynomeans all.AndIwentonlisteningforthesoundsthatthemanwiththespotsseemedto hear.Perhaps,Ithought,theyalsoofferedimmunitytobloodsuckingflies. Themountaingotsteeper,andthereweredizzydropsfromtheroad.Theviews inthesegreatvalleysareunequalledanywhere,andIbenefitedfromBruno's snail'spacetositquietlyandobservedistantpeaksandterraces,andthenallthe smalldetailaroundme.Sometimeslittlegoatherdspeeredatmebashfullyfrom behindtrees,todisappearwithagiggleandpopupagainsecondslaterinaquite differentplace.Theirstrengthandagilitymusthavebeenextreme. Asweroseintothethinnerairthevanlostmoreandmorepoweruntilatlastit wasexhaustedandcouldgonofurther.Yetwefeltthatwemustbenearthe summit.Oncethere,itwouldbeahundredmilesormoreoflevelroadsandsteep descent.Wehadtogettothetopsomehow. Illgiveyouatow,'Isaid.'Well,whynot.You'vealmostgotenoughpower.The bitextraIcangiveyouwillmakethedifference.' Itworkedforawhile,butthenthebikebegantogetunpleasantlyhot,andIwas thinkingwewouldhavetofindsomeotherwaywhenIsawsomepeopleaheadof usonthenarrowdirtroad.Itisararity,Iamsure,toseeamotorcycletowinga

carupahill,buttheywereevenmoreodd,Ithought.Theywerewalking,butnot atallthewayonewalksinordertogetsomewhere,orforthefunofwalking.They wereinprocessionandhadareligiousairaboutthem.Therewasamaninthe leadandheheldanobjectinhishand,butIcouldnotmakeoutwhatitwas,and inanycasehewasnotcarryingitwithreverence.Yettherewasanunmistakable auraofecstasyandfervouraboutthemall. Istoppedthebike,andthevanstoppedtoo.Atlasttheleaderoftheprocession reachedus,andtheothersstoodbehindhim,arandomgroupofpeople enchantedbytheirfate.TheobjectIhadbeenunabletoidentifywasthefractured steeringlinkofabus.Thedriverandhispassengershadjustnarrowlyescaped fromplungingthousandsoffeetdownamountainside.Theywereinastateof totalbliss. Whenweexplainedwhatweweredoing,thedriverapproachedthevanlikea faithhealer,andlaidhishandsonthedistributor.Withtheminimumoffuss,the enginepowerincreasedbyfiftypercentandwesailedawaytothetopofthe mountain. Mygreatestconcernthenexteveningwastobeoutofrangeofthe'yellowperil'. SeveraltimesontheclimbbeyondAndahuaylasIstoppedonsomeidylliccamp siteuntil,afterafewminutes,thefirstflesheatingflyhomedinandIfledfurther upthemountain.Altitudewastheonlydefence.Thatnightwesleptinahigh valley,moistandgreenandsointenselycultivatedthattherewasscarcelyspace forus.Brunowantedtomoveintoanemptybarn,buttheownersaidheputhis pigstherewhenitrained.Itlookedlikerain,sowemadedowithgrassverge. NextdayIplannedtomakeAyacucho,alongride,andIlefttheothersfarbehind. Theyweremuchbetterequippedtotravelinthedarkand couldaffordtoarrivelater.Theroadplungedagainintoadeepvalley,a phenomenaldroptotheRioPampaswhereIwasonceagainamongthornand cactus.Theclimbontheothersideoftheriverwascorrespondinglyhigh,and tookmeafterseveralhourstoaplateauatfifteenthousandfeet.Herdsofllama scatteredatmyarrival,andwereaserioushazardbecauseinsteadofrunning fromdangerisolatedanimalsrantotheherd,oftenacrossmypath.Isaweagles and,forthefirsttime,theworld'sbiggestbird,theCondor.Itwassoaringatsome distance,anditssizewasnotnoticeable,untilitflapped,justonce,itstwelvefoot wings.Theshapetheymadeastheybeatupanddownleftnodoubt.Itwasan airbornemonster,athrillingsighttosee. Theroadranonacrossthishightableofrockandscrubmuchfurtherthanthe mapindicated.Icouldfeelthecoldgathering,andworriedthatIdidnothave enoughfuel.Thesunwasalmostdown,hittingmeintheeyesanddazzlingme asalwayshappenedwhenIwasmostconcernedaboutmakinggoodtimeand keepingoutofpotholes.ThenImetatruck,theonlyvehicleIhadseen,and miraculouslythedriverhadsparepetrol. ImadethelastlongdescentintoAyacuchointhedark.Ayacuchoisanimportant towninPeruvianhistory.Agreatbattlewasfoughtinthatvalleyandithas interestfortourists.Therewasasimplebutgracefulhotelwithpatioandfountains andtiledcorridors.Iwasgivenaroomtomyselfforseventysoles.Theusual pricewaseightysoles.

Toressosquellegenencoche,ochenta.Peroessosenmotosonmuyhombre,' saidtheclerkwithagrin.Inotherwords,cardriverspaythefullratebutthereisa discountforheroes. Attachedtothehotelwasacaferestaurant.Itwasbuiltasanafterthoughtand comparedwiththehotelitwasshoddyandflyblown.Itreflectedthegeneral indifferencetostandardsinfoodanddrink,anindifferencebornofscarcity.Itwas pointlesstoworkupanappetiteforsteak,acoldbeeroraneggfriedinbutter. Thechancesweremorethaneventhatwhateveryouwantedyoucouldnothave. InSouthAmericatheSpanishlanguageiscalled'Castillano'andthetwomost importantwordsinCastillanosayitwithabrevitygreatereventhantheAnglo Saxon. Nohay.Thereisn'tany. 'Beer?'Iasked. Nohaycerveza. 'Steak?' Nohay. 'Whatdoyouhave?'Huevosconarroz. 'CanIhavesomebutterwiththeeggs,please.'Mantequillanohay. 'Alright,bringmeaCocaColaandcoffee.' ThewaiterbroughtaPepsi(whichIlikeevenless)andtwojugs.Onejug containedhotwater.Theotherjug,asmallglassone,seemedtohaveaninchof soyasauceinthebottom. 'Whereisthecoffee?' Thewaiterpointedscornfullyattheblacksauce.Aquiest Itwasliquidcoffeeessence,somethingIhadn'tseensinceHitlerblockadedthe BritishIsles.Iimagineditwaspumpedoutofthegroundintimesofnational emergency. IhadnothadacupofrealcoffeesinceArgentina,butatleasttherehadbeen powderedcoffee.Usuallythetinwasbroughttothetableinthefutilepretence thatitwasgenuineNescafe.Insmartplacestheyhadlittlewickerworkbaskets madespeciallytocradletheNescafeasthoughitwereapreciouswine. InChile,Bolivia,Peru,EcuadoraridevenmostofColombia,realcoffeenohay. ButinAyacuchowesanktoanewlow. IfellintoconversationwithanAmericanrealestateoperatorwhohaddecidedto holidaythroughtheAmericaneconomicrecession.HewasquitehumanuntilI askedwhathedid.Thenheflewintoafrenzyofphrasesabout'golfcourse communitiesandhighdensitysituationsfacilitatingmagnificentvieworientation possibilities.'InthespartancircumstancesofAyacuchotheunrealityofrealestate wasextreme. BrunoandAntoinefoundmetherelaterlisteningtospeculationsontheview orientationfacilitationsituationinlate1975intheFloridaarea.Theybroughtmore newsfromthelandofNoHay.Wewereinafuelstarvationsituation.Ayacucho hadrunoutofpetrol. Inthemorningwehungaboutthegasstations,hopingforamiracle,andshortly beforelunchweweregrantedone.Atankergotthrough.Withitcamethenews thattheusualroutetoHuancayowaswashedoutbythefloodedriverMantaro. Theotherroutewaslongandcircuitous,andwouldtakeatleasttwodays. TwentyfivemilesbeyondAyacuchoItookanailthroughmyreartyre.There weretwoholesinthetubeandIspentanhourandahalfrepairingthemwith

greatcare,becauseonceagainIwasstuckwithunreliablepatchesandnospare tube.AtruckpackedwithIndianpassengerspassedby.Iheardtheusualshouts of'gringo'accompaniedbymockingremarksintheIndianlanguage.AsIstood upaclodofwetmudsplatteredagainstmyshirtandfellintotheopenwalletat mywaist.Itdidnotseemfunnyatthetime. ThePeruvianIndians,onthewhole,lookedveryapatheticandgrounddownby theirtoilanddrearypoverty.Thecolourandvitalityoftheirweavingalways seemedindirectcontradictiontotheirlivesasthoughthe inspirationforithaddiedcenturiesbeforeandthefingersweresimply reproducingitbysomefreakgeneticmutation.Sometimestheapathygaveway toresentment,directedmainlyatGringos.ThoughitwastheSpaniardswhohad settheirheelsonthenecksoftheIndianslongago,the'Yanqui'wastheenemy now.AllEuropeantravellerstookthebruntofit. BrunoandAntoinehadbeencookingwhileIworked,andIatesomethingwith themquickly.Wewereataveryhighaltitudeandhopedtogetagooddeallower beforestopping.WhenItookthebikeoffthestand,thetyrecollapsedagain.I triedmylastresort,anaerosolpuncturerepaircanistercarriedforemergencies.It feltlikeanemergency. Ipumpedinthelatexfoam,andwesetoff.Withinfifteenminutesthetyrewasflat again.Lifecouldbelikethatonedamnthingafteranother.Ipumpeditupand rodeanotherfifteenminutes.Sowewentonfortwohoursthirteenminutesof riding,sixminutesofpumping,withmerushingaheadfulltiltinthedarkness tryingtokeepupadecentaveragespeed. TheairfeltappreciablywarmerwhenwecametoPilpichacaandasmallroadside cafe,andwestayedthereenjoyingthecompanyoftheownersandtheirchildren, butwewerestillatfourteenthousandfeetandIhadachillnightinthetent. InthemorningtheotherswentonaheadwhileIstuffedanineteeninchfront wheeltubeintomyeighteeninchreartyretheobvioussolutiontomyproblem. ThenIsetofftocatchthem. Theroadranalongsidealake,withsnowcapsinthedistance.Theviews everywherewerequiteextraordinary,andwouldhavebeenunforgettablehad therenotbeensomuchofthem.Thedirtroad,though,wasvariableanddifficult, somelooseandslippery,somewet,somestonyandridged,andmanysudden surprisesonbends.Ononeofthem,sureenough,Islidgentlyoffintoamuddy hole.Ittookmealongtimetoworkthebikeout,witheverythingunpackedand spreadaroundme.NormallyImighthavebeenmorestoicalaboutit,butalorry wasparkedwithinshoutingdistance,andthedriversawmestruggling.Icalledto himbutheignoredme,anditwasplainhewantedmetostewinmyjuice.My moodbecamebitterasIreflectedonIndianbehaviourandIspentagooddealof thedayimmersedinunworthyhatredofthem. Finally,though,thegloriouslandscapesroundHuncavelicaliftedmeoutofthis depression.Ilayforawhileamongrocksofbizarreandbrilliantcolours,sculpted bywindintotheshapesofmythicalcreatures,andfeltsomesortofbenignforce entermefromthehillsides.ItwasaverylongandexhaustingridetoHuancayo, withmileaftermileandhourafterhourofsharpdescents.Myarmsandknees achedwiththeeffortofholdingmybodybackinthesaddle,thebrakesandgears foughttoholdthebikeatareasonablespeedonthestonysurfaces,butIwas feelingstrongandcapableagainandarrivedbeforenighthappyandfullofthe splendoursoftheAndes.

ItwastoolatetofindBrunoandAntoine,whohadhadanaddresstofindoutside thetown.IwentinsteadtotheTouristHotel,arathergrandplace,thinkingIhad earnedtheluxury.Itwasamountainresorthotelforaclienteleofcomfortable meansseekingrelieffromLima.Therestaurantwasroomyandcorrect,withthe rightnaperyandsettings,andamenuinFrench.AmiddleagedEnglishcouple entered,eachwithabullmastiffonaleash.Theirtweedyclothesandmanner advertisedtheirnationalitybeforetheyhadevenspokenandIwaitedbreathlessly forconfirmation.Themanglancedroundtheroom,lookedquestioninglyathis consort,andutteredtwowordsstraightfromthetrenchesoftheFirstWorld War. 'Samehole?'heasked.Itwouldbehardtoimagineamoreeloquentphrase, providedyouknewthecode. Bruno,AntoineandIjoinedtogetheragainforthelastdescenttoLima.Itbegan atafinalhighpeakandthere,atMorococha,underashowerofgrimysleet,Isaw whatmustbethehighestecologicaldisasterareaintheworld.TheworstWelsh miningtowncouldnothavecompetedeveninitsheyday.Pitifulrowsofslum cottages,squalidrailwayyards,factoriesbelchingacridsmoke,vastslagheaps oozingluridandpoisonouswastesintostagnantpoolswhereraggedchildren splashedbarefoot,andallamongunmelteddriftsofyellowsnowandbittercold. Theroadwasbrokenupandtreacherous,andtheimageofthatplacestayedwith measasupremesymbolofthewaymen'slivescanbedegradedinthemidstof suchrichnaturalbeauty.Tocreatesomuchfilthatfourteenthousandfeetisa quitediabolicalachievement. TheLucaspeoplereceivedmeverywellinLima,andpamperedmewith hospitality,whileBrunowentofftostaywithsomeFrenchembassypeople.I pulledonoverallsandburiedmyselfinminorrepairs,andthenwanderedrather aimlesslyaboutthecity. Foroncemyownprivateintroductionsfailedme.Onefriendoffriendssaidonthe telephonethatunfortunatelyshecouldnotspeaktomesinceshewasatlunch. Othersusedtheirhospitalityasadefensiveweapon,inawaylikesaying:'We've letyousitinoursplendidhome,we'vegivenyouallyoucaneatanddrink,soyou havenofurtherclaimonus.Goodbye.'Itwasnotconsciouslyintended,butthere wassomuchjealousprideintheseLimasocialitesthatnaturalfeelingcouldfind noplace.SmallwonderthatIfoundtheminsularandsnobbish,andfeltawaveof sympathyfortheIndiansafterall,whohadtobearthebruntofallthisarrogance. BrunolosthispassengerAntoineatLima,andwentonaloneinthe4L.We agreedtostaytogether.Duringthefourweekswehad spentinthemountainsweseemedtohavereachedanalmostperfect understanding.Inolongerfeltthesamefearoflosingcontactwiththepeople aroundus.Withsuchdistinctlydifferentvehicleswespentmostofthetime travellingalone,andwehadalreadydemonstratedseveraltimesthatneitherone waspreparedtofussabouttheother.Wewerereadytotakeourchances,each ofusinhisownway,andwecametogethertocook,orcamptogether,tobuy foodorsometimestohalvethecostofahotelroom,andofcoursetotalk.Itwas notthesameastravellingalone,butIhadtoadmitthatthedourindifferenceof thepeopleIhadencounteredsofarmademegladofcompany.Ifoundthe peoplewearisometocontemplate.TravellingwithBrunowaslikeaholiday. AndweweregoingtotravelalongthePacificcoast.

Therewouldbefish,morefishthanwehadeverseen.Everybodytoldus.You hadonlytotieasafetypintoapieceofstringandyouwouldcatchone.And crabs!Thebiggest,meatiestcrabs,inabundance.Lobsters! Delicious,fresh,cheap.Andoysters!Theoysters,theysaid,wereasbigas dinnerplates.Theywereextraordinary,juicy,fullofflavourandeachoneas nourishingasasteak. Therewouldbehundredsofmilesofemptybeach,whereitnever,everrained, andweweregoingtorollgentlyalongthecoast,sleepingout,livingoffthesea, savingmoneyandhavingafantastictime. IttookustoolongtofindourwayoutofLima,andontothePanAmerican Highway.Wehadthoughtitbesttogetasfarfromthecapitalaspossibleonthe firstday,beforelookingforabeach,butatduskwehadonlymanagedahundred milesand,whatwasworse,wewereonapartoftheroadthatcircledawayfrom thecoast.Thereweredirtroadsleadingofftothesea,andwetookonehoping wemightstillfindabeachintime,butweseemedtobecrossinganartificial wastelandorarmytrainingground.Itwascrisscrossedwithtracks,andsignposts withnamesandnumbersthattoldusnothing,andinthegatheringdarkwesaw headlightssweepingovergreatdistancesandheardtherumblingofengines.We wentasfaraswecould,butfoundnobeach.Findingtwosolidsignpostsnear eachother,wehitchedourhammocksbetweentheroofrackofthe4Landthe signposts,fedourselvesandwenttosleep.Duringthenight,severalbigtrucks groundslowlypast,thrashingtheirgears,andinthemorningwesawwewerein agreatfieldofnaturalsaltdeposits.Infactwehadcomewithinafewhundred yardsofthesea,andwescrambledoverabluffanddowntothewater.There wasnorealbeach,butalotofrockstumblingintotheocean,andafewpatches ofsand.Allovertherockswesawcrabs,bigredandblackcrabs,buthowwere wetocatchthem?Wehadnonet,orbait.Wehadnotevenboughtafishingline yet.Itseemed,though,thatifwewerestealthyenoughincomingoverarockwe mightcatchonewithasuitableweaponbeforeithadrealizeditsdanger. Brunohadsomethingcloselyresemblingaspear,andforawhilewescrambled overtherocks,lashingatthecrabsandmissingthembyahair'sbreadth,but alwaysmissing.IcouldseeBrunowasgettingfurious.Hehatedtobebeatenby acrab.Itwasprettyobvioustobothofusbythistimethatthesewerenotthe great,fat,juicyeatingcrabswehadbeenpromised,butithadbecomea desperatesport.Brunorushedofftothevanandcamebackwithawildlookand atinynickelplatedrevolverinhishand.Itwastimeformetogetoutoftheway. Lookingmorelikeacrabhimselfhecreptovertherocks,andfiredseveraltimes, butwithoutsuccess.Finallyhemanagedtocornerabigoneinacleft.Weboth lookedandsawthisinsolentmonstersittingthere,pointingatuswithitseyesand munchingslowlyandsteadily.Itwaspointblankrange.Brunofiredagainand again,andthecrabwentonmunchinguntilthemagazinewasexhausted.Then thecrabturnedaway contemptuouslyandvanished.Ithadnotbeentrappedatall,merely unconcerned. Thatdaywetravelledtwohundredmiles,almosttoChimbote,butpassedno townbigenoughtosellfishingequipment.However,wedidfindabeach.It stretchedoffstraighttothehorizon,atlowtide,withathickblanketofseaweed definingthehightidemark.Thesmellofitwasinvigoratingbeyondbelief,a specialquality,Ialwaysthought,ofthePacific.Alittlegrasshutwithachimney

stoodaloneanddesertedonthebeach,buttherewasotherwisenosignthatthe beachwasknowntoman.Wefounddriftwoodandmadeafirebut,failingfish,we dinedoneggs,riceandonions,tastybutprosaic. Inthemorningwefoundthatthevanwasstuckinthesand.Asweworkedto extricateitwithshovel,ropesandbrushwood,agirlappearedunexpectedlyfrom behindalowridgeofsandstone.Shelookedratherdusty,andhersleeveless blacktopdidnotquiteregisterwithherbra.SheaskedforalifttoChimbote, sayingthatamanhaddumpedhertherewhensherefusedtodoit. Brunotookherinthevan,andsheshoweduswheretobuyfishinglines,hooks andsinkers.Someboyssoldusahandfulofbiggreygrubstheywerediggingup onthebeach,andwesetofftofindfish. Ourfirsteffortswerenotasuccess.AtPuertoMoriwehadtopayatolljusttoget onthebeach,andcaughtnothing.Thefollowingday,beyondTrujillo,wewere unluckyagain.Therewereonlypebblebeaches.Bothofusconstantlysnagged ourlines,andIlostminealtogether.However,thistimewehadthoughtfully providedagainstfailurebybuyingabigfishatthemarket.Itweighedakiloanda half,andwaslikeamullet.Grilleditwaswonderfulandwegorgedourselvesinto astupor.Iatleastwasgettingusedtotheideathatfishingwasonething,and eatingfishanother,butthetastespurreduson. Thefollowingnightwefoundabeachclosetoafishingvillageandsawcratesof thefishbeingbroughtashore.Wehadnodifficultybuyingone,butstillwecould catchnothing.Absolutelydeterminedtowinsomekindoffreebootyfromthesea Iturnedmygreedyeyesonthesmallcrabsthatweredashingaboutalloverthe beach. 'Ifwegotenoughofthem,'Isaid,'maybetheywouldmakeasoup.' IsawthesamemadglintkindleinBruno'seye. 'Allonsy',heshouted.Inthedark,withahurricanelamp,weroundedupdozens ofthemiserable,dazedcreatures.Theresultofallthisslaughterwasquite inedible.Fullofshamewesweptupthelitterofpatheticlimbsstrewnaroundus, andburiedit.Thecollectiveunconsciousofthecrabworldwasnotslowto revengeitselfthough.ThenextdayIsteppedintothewaterandfeltamost excruciatingcrunchonmyfootfromanenormouspincer.ForanhourIsuffered intensepainandthoughtIwouldprobablydie. Wedecidedthenthatitwastimetotryforsomeoftheotherdelightsofthe Pacific. 'AtChiclayosaidBruno,'istheTouristHotel,wherewewilleatoystersand lobsters.Itwillbewonderful.Ihavebeentoldaboutit.Oystersandlobsterswith coldwhitewine.Prepareyourself.' Ihadtoadmitthehotellookedpromising.Theentrancewasgrand,thewaiters worestarchedwhitecoats.Thereweretableclothsand,wonderofwonders, whitebreadrolls. 'Waiter,'Isaid,asoneapproachedwithamenu,'wewantoysters,oystersasbig asthisplate.' 'Nohay,'hesaid. 'Inthatcase,'saidBrunograndly,'wewillhavelobster.' 'Nohay,'saidthewaiter,andofferedusprawnsinbatter. Welookedatthemenu.Weknewitwasnogood,butcouldnotbeartoadmitthat thefeastwascancelled.Theprawnswereveryexpensive.Almostcertainlythey werefrozen,butweorderedthem.

'Andabottleofwhitewine,'saidBruno. 'Nohayvino,'saidthewaitersnootily.'Itisforbiddentosellvinoduringthe revolution.' Thatwashowwefirstheardabouttherevolution.Westaredateachotherin amazement.Itwasaseriousmatter.ThepoliceinLimaandCallaohadstageda coup.Manyhadbeenkilled.Thetankswereoutinthestreetsandthefateofthe countrywasinthebalance.Sofarthegovernmenthadmanagedtosurvive. TherewererumoursofchaosandbloodshedinLima,buttheonlynoticeable effectinChiclayowasthatyoucouldnotgetwinewithyourprawns. Anywaytheprawnswerenogood.Theywerefriedinbreaddough,andthechef hadforgottentoputintheprawns. Weleftpoorerbutlittlewiser.AtthenexttrafficlightadozyPeruviandriverran intomefrombehind,rippingoffoneofmypanniers,dentingtheoiltankand throwingmetotheground.Itwasthatkindofday.Imadeatremendousrow aboutitandthecrowdcameovergraduallytomyside.Reluctantlythedriver peeledoffahundredsolenote,gaveittome,andrushedaway.Itiedmybroken boxtogetherandtookmyhundredsolesintoawineshopwhereIgotabottle fromamanwhohadseentoomanyrevolutions.Sosomethinggoodcameofthat day,thoughitwasnotoveryet,byanymeans. WerodeontoPaitawhichsurprisedmebybeingareallygracefultownofoldand elegantwoodframebuildings.Unhappilythehotelwasthegrubbiestofallthe buildings,andfartooexpensive,sowehadachickendinneranddecidedto sleepoutagain.Irememberedthetelegraphpoles linedupalongtheroadonourwayintotownandwedroveouttoslingour hammocksbetweenasuitablepoleandoppositeendsofthevan. AsIwasdozingoffafaintcreakingsounddisturbedme,butbeforeIhadtime eventoidentifyit,thepolecamecrashingdown.Myheadwastowardsthepole, andBrunowasasleepwithhisheadatthevanendofthehammock.Inthe moonlightIsawthepolefalldirectlyontoBrunoandtheporcelaininsulation strikehishead.Iwassohorrifiedimaginingtheweightofthepolebehindthat sharpglassyknobthatIdidnotevennoticethatIhadfallentotheground. ForasecondortwohewasdeathlystillasIstruggledupinalarmfromthetangle ofbedding.Thenhewoke.Hesaidhehadfeltnothing.AstonishedbutrelievedI begantoconsiderwhatthepoliceinPaitamightthinkiftheyfoundtheir communicationscutduringarevolution,andwedecidedtoleavethesiterapidly. Pausingonlytopullonourtrousersandbundleallourloosethingsintothevan werushedoffforanotherfivemiles.Thenthebikeblewafuseandstopped, withoutwarning,forthefirsttimeontheentirejourney. Hopingwewereoutofrangeofsuspicionwestoppedandslept.Irodebackto thesceneofour'crime'nextmorningtorecoverapieceofcordthatBrunowas missing.Iwaspuzzledbytheincident,wonderingwhythepolehadfallen,and whyBruno'sheadwasnotsplitopen.Thecordwasthere.Thepolelayaswehad leftit,andItouchedoneendofit.Itwasaslightascork,havingbeenentirely eatenawayinsidebytermitesleavingonlyathinshell. Werodealongwaynorththatday,andwereapproachingEcuador,andstillthe idyllicbeachhadeludedus.Wecamethenintoasurreallandscapeofwind whippedsandstoneshapeswherepetroleumwellsglitteredandnodded mysteriouslyinthewilderness,likeacolonyofextraterrestrialbeings.Whenthe roadswungbacktotheoceanafterTalaraIlookeddownandsawit,abroad,

gentlycurvingbayembracedbyheadlands,afinebeachrisinguptoacliffface, twosmallbrightlypaintedfishingboatsbeached,twoothersatanchorinthebay, andnoothersignofpeopleorhabitation. Irodedowntoitanddissolvedinitsbeauty.Thesandwassoftandunspoiledup underthecliffface,andwashedcleanandsmoothdownbytheocean,withno dividinglineofseaweedtoattractirritatinginsects.Alongonepartofthebeach someblackstonethrustupthroughthesand.Ithadbeenlappedandhollowedby thetideintoelegantgeometricalforms,lovelyinthemselvesbutalsoso deliberateandprecisethatIcouldalmostfancyNaturemocking:'Fitafunctionto thisthen,ifyouplease.' Otherbiggerrocksstoodoutintotheoceanandofferedgoodplatformsfor fishing.Squadronsofgreypelicanscruisedcomplacentlyafewyardsoffshore, fallingnowandagainlikefeatheredbombstoprovethefishwerethere.Frigate birdshoveredabove,printingtheirprimevalblacksilhouettesonpureblue.The Pacificstretchedcalmandgloriousundertheafternoonsunandthecliffsaround glowedrosyandwarm. BrunofollowedmedownandparkedtheRenaultonahardshelf,bytherock face,resistingthetemptationforoncetorushinandsinkthevanirrevocablyinto thesugarysand.Iunpackedthebikeandconstructedanestformyselfinthe sand.Itwasquiteunnecessary,Icouldhavedoneitlaterornotatall,butI neededtodosomethingtomarkmyarrivalandstakemyclaim. Thenwefished,Ifromtherocks,Brunobyswimmingouttooneoftheanchored boats.Icaughtnothingbutwasfilledwithpeaceandpleasure.AfteranhourI lookeduptoseeapolicecardrawnupbehindtheRenault,itsredlightstill twirlingonitsroof.Twopolicemenwerestandingbythevan,lookingfairly relaxed,andBrunowasswimmingintoshore.IdecidedtostaywhereIwas.It wasadisturbance.IcouldnothelpconnectingitwiththenewsfromLima,even thetelegraphpolewehadbroughtdown,butIpreferrednottospeakto policemen. Isneakedanoccasionalglance.Brunoseemedtobetalkingtothemquite amicably.Twofishermenwalkedpastmealongthebeachdanglingseveralbig fishattheirsides,andstoppedtojointhediscussionforawhile.Thefishermen walkedon.Thepoliceclimbedbackintotheircar,anddroveoff.Brunowentback tothewaterandswamoutagaintotheboats. LaterBrunoshowedmehisfish.Itwasahugethingwithgoldendiscsshiningon agunmetalskin,calledasierra.Hehadnotcaughtit,however.Thepolicehad requisitionedtwoofthemfromthefishermenandpassedoneovertous. 'Whatdidthepolicewant?'Iasked. 'Whoknows,'heshrugged.'Maybetheycomeeverydayforafreefish.They warnedmenottogoouttoofar.Nadamas.' Itwasanodd,meaninglessevent.Nothingevercameofit,andIneverforgotit either.Thesierrawasoneofthemostprizedfishonthatcoast,andwemust haveeacheatenabouttwopoundsofit,grilledtoperfection.Ilaybackwithtea andcigarettesatexquisitepeacewiththeworld. EvenBrunowasunusuallycalm.Hewasagoodtraveller,toughandinquisitive and(itmustbesaid)unusuallyflexibleforaFrenchman.Buthewasinhismid twentieswithalotoflifeaheadofhim,andinabitmoreofahurrythanIwas. Thatnightheseemedwillingtolettimestandstill.

'WhowantstobeinParisinsomeshittybox?'hesaid.TwishIdidn'thavetogo back.' 'Whygothen?'Iasked. Tdon'tknow.It'sexpected.It'sthesystem andthere'sthefamilyfarmtosortout nowthatmyfatherisdead. 'ButIdon'twanttogetfuckedinthatbloodymachine,stuckinaboxfortherestof mydays,'hesaidangrily.TheFrenchcallabusinessabox,oneoftheirbetter ideas. 'TherewasamaninParaguay,outintheChaco,aFrenchman.Ireallyadmired him.Selfmade,selftaught,helivedinhisownworldsurroundedbybooksand hisfarm.Buthismind,itwasextraordinary.Hethoughteverythingoutforhimself, andhisideaswereoriginal,marvellous.ThatisalifeIenvy,butIcouldneverdo italone.IsupposeI'mboundtogetajobforawhile...it'snottooeasythese days.' Lyingonthatwarmbeachunderthestarsitseemedliketheutmostfollyevento contemplateit. Westayedthereanotherdayandanight.SomeofthetimeIsatandstudiedthe crabs.Theyweresmallandlivedinholesspacedaboutafootapart.Aroundthe holeswasacuriouspatternlikethefootprintsofmanybirds,whichfirstattracted myattention.Iwaitedtoseewhatitwas.Afterawhilethecrabswouldstartto emerge,poppingtheirbrightlycolouredperiscopeeyesoverthetop,before daringtoclimbout.Almostinvariablyeachcrabhadasmallballofsandtucked underonearm,remindingmeofanAmericanfootballerabouttomakearun. Somecrabskickedtheball,otherswalkedalittlewayandthenbrokeitup.Either waytheythenwentovertheloosesandwiththeirpincers,stampingitdownto leavethosemarksIhadnoticed. Infrontofmewerethreeholessettoformatriangle.Onecrabsatconfidentlyat themouthofitsholewatchingtheothertwo.Whenanothercrabappearedthe firstcrabmadearushforit,butalwaysfailedtogettherebeforetheotherhad bunkeddownitsholeagain.Aftermanyunsuccessfulattempts,theaggressor decidedonafinalsolution.Itfilledupboththeotherholeswithsand,stamping downonthemuntiltheyhaddisappeared.Iwaitedalongwhiletoseeifeither buriedcrabwouldreappearbutdidnotseethemagain. Ihadnoideawhatthegamewasbut,forallitsstrangeness,theepisodehadan uncomfortablefamiliarity. FromthatbeachtheroadledalmostdirectlyintoEcuador.Rightuptothefrontier thecountrycontinuedbarrenandrainless.Immediatelybeyonditwewere envelopedbylushwetvegetation,waisthighgrass,marshyland,muddyroads andmileuponmileofbananaplantations. InQuitowewereaccommodatedbytwoFrenchmenseeingouttheirmilitary serviceasteachersattachedtotheLegation.Ofalltheirluxuries,weappreciated mostthehifi.Foranentireafternoonwebothlayintheirlivingroomwiththe volumeturnedfullon,playing,againandagain,thesamerecordingofWagner's OverturetoTannhaiiser,untilweweredrunkandsaturatedwithit. Theteachersthemselves,foralltheirhospitality,werelesssatisfying.Oneof themwasparticularlyboorish.Wealljokedattimesabouttheawkwardnessof SouthAmericans,buthehadnoroomforhumour.

'Ilfautlessupprimer,'hesaidagainandagain.'Theymustbeputdown.'WhenI realizedthathewasseriouslythinkingofexterminatingthem,likevermin,I becameratheruncomfortableandwasgladtoleave. InQuito,atacrossroads,IencounteredtwoAmericansridingaNorton Commando.Weallstopped,onawhim,andtalkedforawhileinacafe.The meetingledustostaytogetherfortendaysinahaciendathattheyweresharing withsomeothersnearOtavalo.Itwasanenchantingexperience,notleast becauseweweretherelongenoughtoknowandtalktosomeoftheIndiangirls whocametohelpwiththehouseandgarden.EvenBrunocontainedhis impatiencewell.TheAmericans,BobandAnnie,leftadeepimpressiononme. Theywere,atthatmoment,contemplatingmarriage.Indeedtheymadeavaliant attempttofulfilitinthenexttown,butweredefeatedbytheresidence qualifications.Sotheywerehappy,ofcourse,buttheirhappinesshadanunusual qualityofclarityanddepth,likeaclearpoolthatinvitedotherstojumpinand share. AfterafewdaystheyspoketomeaboutaranchsomewherenorthofSan Francisco,andsomepeopletheythoughtIwouldliketomeet.Iknewthiswas significanttothem,buttheywerebeingdeliberatelyvagueandsoIaskedno questions.Ihadanaddressoffriendswherewecouldmeetupagainin California,andIputitasideuntilthen.Italwaysseemedstrangeafterwardsto recalltheapparentlyhaphazardwayinwhichwehadmet.Itwasoneofthose meetingswhich,withallthehindsightintheworld,musthavebeenapurechance thatchangedmylife. TheAndesresolutelyrefusedtopall.NorthoftheEquatortheybecamemore beautifulthanever,astheyspreadoutacrossColombia.FromIpialestoPastoto Popayan,IwaspreparedtoswearthatIwouldneverseeanythingmorebeautiful thanthesegreatmountainsidescladingreeneryandburstingwithflowersand flametrees.Thehomesweremoreevolved,andbuiltinthemostpleasingshape ofall,aroundpatios,withredtiledroofsrunningoutoververandas.UnlikePeru, Columbiawasasoft,habitablecountry,withstreamsandwaterfalls,andgood earthapparentlyeverywhere. Italsohadthereputationofbeingthemostdangerouscountryanywhere. ThroughoutSouthAmericaIhadbeenaccumulatingstoriesofwhathappenedto travellersinColombia.Armedrobberiesatnight,touristsshotinhotelrooms, fingerscutoffforrings,watchesrippedoffwrists,everykindofdaringhitandrun theft,andarecordofprivatelymotivatedmurderandviolenceunparalleledin modernhistory. FromthebeginningofthejourneyfriendshadsuggestedthatIshouldcarrysome kindofweapon.Somehadideas,borrowedfrompoliticalthrillers,ofgunsthat brokedownintopiecesthatlookedlikemotorcycleparts,ortentpoles.Atleasta smallpistollikeBruno's,theythought,couldbehiddenawaysomewhere.Guns nevermadeanysensetome.WhenIpicturedmyselffightingoffbanditswith firearmsIknewtheideawasridiculous. Foronething,ifIweretobeattackedatallitwouldalmostcertainlybeonthe road.Shortofhavingrocketlaunchersslungunderthehandlebarsitwouldbe impossibleformetodefendmyselfwhileriding.BythetimeIstoppedthebike andgottomygunitwouldallbeover. Butmyrevulsionforfirearmswentmuchdeeperthanthat.Iwasconvinced,from thestart,thatmerelytocarryaguninvitesattack.Whenthereisafearofhostility

mymindistornbetweentwokindsofresponsetolick'emortojoin'em.Witha guninmypocketIwouldbethinkingmoreaboutlickingthem,andIhavecometo believefirmlythatwhatisgoingoninmymindisreflectedinathousandlittle waysbythewayIbehavetowardsothers.Iamnotbeyondbelievingthatjust havingthatguninmypocketwouldbeenoughtogetmeshot.Anyway,therewas anotionofmanlinessassociatedwithweaponrythatIcouldnotunderstand. Gunsseemedtometospeakonlyoffear.Iwouldprefermychancesofwalking emptyhandeduptoanybandit,ratherthantryingtoshoothimfirst,andallthe accountsIlaterheardseemedtobearmeout. Evenso,itwasimpossiblenottobeimpressedbytalesofhighwayrobberyin Colombia,andIdecidedatleasttomakelifeabitmoredifficultfortherobber.I boughtthreepadlocksandachaintosecuremyleathertankbags. TheonlyrobberyIsufferedinColombiawassoonafterwearrivedtherewhilewe werestayinginPopayan.Iwasstandinginagrocer'sshopwiththecontentsof mypocketonthecounter,searchingforloosechangewhensomeonedeftly pocketedmykeys.Itwasaquitesenselesstheft.Thekeysweresurelyuselessto thethiefbutIhadlosttheduplicatesandbeforeIcouldleavePopayanIhadto havemythreepadlockssawnoffwithahacksaw. Somuchforparanoia,Ithought,andtriednevertobebotheredwithitanymore. BrunoandIhadcomealongwaytogetherbythen.Weweretwothousandmiles northofLimaandintoourthirdmonth.HestillhopedtoreachMexicowithhis van.Itwasstrugglingvaliantlyandlookedlikegettingthereagainstalltheodds, whenweleftPopayanforLaPlata.Thedirtroadwaswindingandmountainous astheyallwere,butitwasnarrowerthanmostand,forthefirsttime,Ihadtrouble withthelorries. NormallythelorriesandIcoexisted.Theysweptalongregardlessofallother traffic,indifferenttoaccidents,noisy,filthy,paintedandrepaintedwithwonderful fairgroundcolours,andbravemottos,sprayingtransistorizedmusicandfootball commentariesfromthecab.Theyneverwentforme,andIneverduelledwith them.ItwasnopartofmypridetofightbattleswithColombianlorrydrivers. Wheretherewasroom,Islippedpast.Wheretherewasn'tIgotoutoftheway. OntheroadtoLaPlataitwasdistinctlyhardertogetoutoftheway,thoughitwas reallyjustamatterofgoingslower,andbeingreadyforalorrytoappearround everybend.MostofthebendswereconcealedandIhadalotofanticipatingto do,butthatwasalright.ThatalsowaswhatmyjourneywasaboutasortofZen meditationonreality.Iwentmoreslowlyandappreciateditallthemore. Bruno'scase,however,wasdifferent.Alltheanticipationintheworldcouldnot gethimpastalorrywheretherewasnoroom.Ihadbeenwaitingaverylongtime forhimatabareboardedcafenexttoabrothelinamountaintopvillagewhena busdrivercamethroughandsaidmyfriendwasintrouble.Ifoundhimwithone wheelinaditchandupagainstaconcreteculvert.Hishalfshafthadbrokenits joint.Wefoundeventuallythathecouldstillcrawlalongandwecreptpainfully backtoPopayan.Iwasnotsorrytobeback.IhadfoundPopayantobeoneof thefinestcities,rankingwithCuzcoandOuroPretoasplacesthatgenerated contentment.Ithinktheremustbehappyoccasionswhenthesizeofa community,theappreciationofthepeopleandtheshapeanddispositionoftheir dwellingsallcoincideatapointmostfavourabletothehumanspirit.Thesethree citiesseemtohavepassedthroughthattime,andthememorylingerson.

WemovedintooneofthemostbeautifulhotelsinSouthAmerica,ElMonasterio, andsharedaroomfor$8whichwethoughtofasalotofmoney,havinglost touchwiththeWesternworld.Brunoputonavirtuosoperformanceforthe Renaultagent,andhadhishalfshaftreplacedforpennies.Wegorgedourselves onthesights,sounds,smellsandtastesofPopayanandBrunoleftearlynext day,determinedthistimetodriveasslowlyashumanlypossible,whileIwent lookingforsomeonetosawthroughmypadlocks. Ileftatlunchtime,ingloriousweather,hopingtomisstheregularafternoonstorm. ThenafuseblewagainandIspenttoolongtryingtotracethefault,withthetank offandeverythingunpacked.Ijusthadtimetoputinatemporaryhotlinefrom thecoilstothebatteryandgetpackedupbeforethestormbrokeovermeand mademeverywet,butitwasoversoonenough.Thesuncameout,anddriedme throughandthrough.Therewassomuchnaturalbeautyonthatroad,thatI swungoutofcontrolandmanagedathirtyfootskidonloosedirtacrossablind bend. WhenIthoughtwhatalorrywouldhavedonetomethere,Ihadtochalkthatone upasalifelost. ButitwasBruno'sdayofreckoning,notmine.Incredibly,hemetanotherlorry andthistimetherewasnotevenaditchtohidein.Theybothbrakedmasterfully. Theimpactwasnotenoughtohurteitherdriver,buttheRenaultwasconverted fromarectangleintoalozenge.Iwasnotpresentatthissadscene.Brunospoke ofitlaterwithmuchemotion,althoughlikeatruegauchoofthehighwayhedid notallowgrieftounbalancehim.ManyColombianlorrydriversassembledatthe scene,hesaid,andtheywereable,byforceofnumbers,topersuadeBrunothat theaccidenthadbeenhisfaultandthatheowedsixhundredpesosfortherepair ofalorryfenderandtherepaintingofseveralheartsandflowers.Leadingwithhis rightwheelseveralinchesaheadofhisleft,hewasabletomeanderonalongthe roadtoLaPlata,andIovertookthepatheticpairlater.Thegeometryofthecar wascertainlypeculiar,andhisfronttyreswerealmostbaldafteronlythirtymiles. WedecidedtomakeacampandgoontoLaPlatainthemorning,andIfounda greenfieldleadingdowntoariver.Wedrovein,andhalfwaydownthefieldsank intoabog.ForhalfanhourormoreBrunolabouredtobringhiscrippledcarback uptothegate.Hecouldgetspeedupacrossthefieldbutalwaysthatlastshort stretchwhenhehadtoturnupthehillwastoomuch,andheslitheredtoahalt. Finally,indesperation,usingeverydevicewehadlearnedontheway,weheaved thecarout.Thefieldwasahorrifyingsight,denudedofpasture,ruttedandripped toshreds.Itseemedbettertomoveonbeforetheownercameandshotus.So wecametoLaPlataafterallandtookaroomattheResidenciasBerlin.Therewe madetheacquaintanceofJesusandDomitilaClavijo,theirtenchildren,and Robertotheparrot. Domitila,themother,wasawomanofgreatvigourandgoodhumour.She bustledconstantly,inthekitchen,thediningroom,themanybedroomsscattered aroundtheyard,issuinginstructionstohersmallarmy.Herchildren,boysand girlsrangingbetweeneighteenandzero,seemedexceptionallybrightandwell mannered.Weplayedchesswiththeboys,talkedtothemall,andadmiredthe waytheysupportedtheirmother:Theyseemedalertandgenerousandsensitive tofeelingtoadegreefarbeyondwhatIwouldconsidernormalinaEuropeanor NorthAmericanhome.Somethingofthishadalreadyimpressedmeabout

Colombiaingeneral,asthoughtheveryhazardsandcrueltiesoflifetherewere boundtogeneratetheiroppositequalities. Thefather,Jesus,madeastrongimpressionalso,butofaquitedifferentkind.He satgenerallyonachairinthediningarea,amiddleagedmanwithaspreading bulk,alightlywovenhatperchedoveranexpressionlessface,andhislefthandin hispocket.ThehandwassofirmlyinthepocketthatIhadthefeelinghissleeve wassewntohistrousers.Hespokesoftlyandsibilantly,butheexertedgreat authorityoverhisfamily.Theyclearlyfearedandrespectedhimasmuchasthey lovedtheirmother.Hedidnothinginthehotel,thoughhehadsomelandoutside LaPlatawhichhesupervised.OnSaturdayshewenttothebilliardsaloonand drankwithhiscronies.TheSaturdayIwastherehereturneddrunk,accusedone ofhisdaughtersofwhoringintown,broughtseveralofthemtotears,andthen wenttosleepitoff.Oneofhissonsexplainedthistous. Therehadbeenatime,notlongbefore,whenJesus'familyandfriendshadbeen thekingsofLaPlata.Theyranit,ineveryway.Theydecidedwhatwouldbebuilt, whatwouldbetorndown,whocouldlivethereandwhocouldn't,whoshouldpay whattowhom,andwhowasguiltyorinnocent.Therewerenopolice. Governmentagentsweresentpackingwithbulletsattheirtails.LaPlata,like mostsmalltownsoftheinterior,wasalawuntoitself,andJesusandhisfriends wereIT. Oneday,atthebilliardsaloonwheretheweeklycouncilmeetingswereheld, therewasadisagreement.Itwasatrivialenoughmatter,somethinglikewhether thebusshouldstopoutsideManuel'sstoreorJose'sbarbershop.Butfeelingwas alreadyrunninghighbetweentheJesusfactionandothers.Jesushadhishand onthewoodenframeofabilliardtablewhenarivaldrewamacheteandslicedit off.NotsatisfiedwiththathechoppedthroughthemiddleofJesus'brother'shand aswell. Whenthebrothersreturnedwiththeirstumpssewnup,theymurderedtheir assailantandhisuncle,andnarrowlymissedhiswife.Thosewerethedays!They wereovernow,though.Thegovernmenthadfinallyfoundenoughsoldiersto bringtheirownbrandoflawtoLaPlata,andJesusnowexercisedhisauthority lessdirectly.ItwaslaterinthesameconversationthatIdiscoveredthatthefield wehadrippedupandruinedalmostcertainlybelongedtoJesus.Idecided,inthe circumstances,tokeepthemattertomyself. ForBrunoitwasagodsendthatthepolicewerebackinLaPlata.Hisvanwas obviouslyundrivable.Ithadshreddedtwotyresinthirtymiles.Wewerealready withinafewdaysoftheCaribbeancoast,whenthecarwouldinanycasehaveto beshippedtoPanamaatgreatexpense.Itdidnotaddup,andafterswallowinga fewtimes,Brunodecidedtoletthevango. Colombiansareinsaneaboutbuyingthingsfromabroad.Theyareconvincedthat everythingforeignisabargain,andtherewouldhavebeennodifficultysellingthe van,wreckedasitwas,butforthefactthatitwasquiteillegalandthebuyer wouldhavedifficultygettinglicenceplates.Apolicemansolvedtheproblemby buyingitforhimself. AclosingdownauctionwasheldinthecourtyardoftheResidencias Berlin.Buyerscamefromallaround.Therewasfoamplastic,kitchenware, clothing,evenanoilpainting,andIaddedmyobsoleteairmattresstothedisplay. Thebargainingcontinuedwithanimationthroughtheday.DomitilaandIfought wellintothenightoverthemattress,andeventuallyweallfellexhaustedand

satisfiedintoourbeds.NextdayBrunopickeduphistwoleathergripsand climbedontoabus,andmylifewithBrunocametoanend.Bothofusagreedit hadbeenwonderfulandunforgettable,andwehadnoproblemaboutgoingour separateways.Wewouldmeetagain.Nodoubt.

Brunotookthebuson17MarchandIrodeoffthesameday,firsttoBogota,then toMedellinandontotheCaribbeanportofCartagena,upanddownacross hundredsofmilesofvalleysandmountains,allbewitchinglybeautiful. IbargainedforspaceonanislandtradingvesselandsailedtoSanAndres, knowntoEnglishpiratesasSt.Andrews.Fromthere,forthefirstandlasttime,I tooktotheair.HondurasAirlinesstuffedmybikeontotheflightdeckofa LockheedElectra,rightbehindthepilot,andflewmetoPanama,lookingdownon thecanal.AndPanama,Itoldmyself,wasonlyahopskipandjumpfromthe USA.Itwasasillymistaketodeceivemyselfinthisway,justlazinessandwishful thinking. ThelureandchallengeofSouthAmericahadalwaysdistractedmefromthat stringof'bananarepublics'connectingittoNorthAmerica,andIhadpaidnoreal attentiontoitsgeography. InPanamaIhadtofaceuptothefactthattherewereatleastsixdistinct countriestotraverse,andfivethousandmilestoride,beforeIreachedCalifornia. Itmademesadtorealizethatwhatshouldhavebeenanexcitingprospectleftme ratherdispirited. ThetenthousandmilessinceFortalezahadbeenhardbutIlovedthephysical workoftravellinganditwasnotthatwhichexhaustedme.Moredifficultto sustain,Ifound,wasthedailygrindofcontactwiththeLatinAmerican personality.Itshouldnothavecomeasasurprise.Whereelseintheworldisthe maleindividualsoinsecure,dividedasheisbetweentheLatinandIndian cultures,withthebloodofbothinhisveins.TheLatinAmericanhasnotribetofall backon,astheAfricandoes,noreliablejudiciarytodefendhisrightsasthe Europeandoes,nosocialidealorsacredconstitutiontoappealtoastheNorth Americandoes,nopervasivemythologytosoftenlifeasitdoesinAsia,andnot evenanideologytosubscribeto,ashastheRussianorChinese.Withoutwealth, whatistherelefttohimbuthismanhood,tobeflauntedanddefendedatevery occasion. Travelling,youmeetitagainandagain,theunspokenquestion:'Howdoesthis manthreatenmyvirility?' Everyday,insomelittleway,Ihadhadtodampdownfears,stillsuspicions, provethatIwasnottheretomakeafoolofanyone.Allthemoredifficultwhen peoplewhodonothavetheinformationyouneed,cannotsupplythethingyou want,areremindedoftheirownignoranceandthechronicmaterialshortages withwhichtheylive.Peoplecanonlysay'Nohay'sooftenbeforeitchangesto 'FuckOff.InthelandofNoHay,theyplayHunttheScapegoat,andeveryGringo qualifies.Itwasaconstantpreoccupationtoescapethatlabel,andfindawayto meetwithpeopleinamorehumanandpersonalway. Ofcourse,wherepeopleliveinoneplaceandgetusedtoeachothertheyget alongfine,usually,justastheydoeverywhereelseintheworld.NowherecouldI havefoundwarmerormoregenerousfriendsthanthoseIstayedwithinRio,in

Curitiba,Bariloche,Santiago,LaPlata,MedellinandCartagena.Oncecontactis madeandtheintentionisclearthereisnoshortageoftrustandwarmth. Andthentherearealsotheexceptionalpeoplewhomakenonsenseofall generalizations.AttheroadsideinthesouthwestofArgentinaIwasstrugglingto mendapunctureonahotdrydaywhenamanstoppedandcameoverwiththe solepurposeofencouragingme.Icouldseebyhisdressandthecarhedrove thathismeanswerelimited,butheputhishandinhispocketandbroughtouta bundleofpaperpesoswithseveralnotesofaquitehighdenomination.'Ifyouare shortofmoney'hesaid,'pleasetakewhatyouneed.'Ineedednothing,butIwas overwhelmedbysuchspontaneousgenerosity,andhissinglegesturehelpedme latertoswallowadozenrebuffs.Unfortunatelythereweretoofewlikehimto absorballthepunishment,andbythetimeIgottoPanamaIwasfeelingthe cumulativeeffectofit. Therehadbeenotherpressurestoo.MyrelationswiththeSundayTimesseemed tohavegonesour.AfterapromisingstartinBrazil,ArgentinaandChile,noneof myarticleshadbeenpublishedandtherewereominoussignalsaboutmoney. Priceswererisingconstantly.Inflationhadmadeamockeryofmyoriginal budgets,anditwasobviousthatIwouldneedmoremoney,eventhoughIwas livingontheslenderestofshoestrings.AsIstruggledinandoutofditchesand becameaconnoisseurofcockroaches,Iwasbitterlyawarethattherewere peopleinLondonwhothoughtmyjourneywasafrivolouswasteoffunds. IhadhopedfornewsinPanamathatwouldatleaststatethepositionclearly. Panamawasanimportantdropalongmyroute.TheLucascompanyhadahuge depotthereintheFreeZone,anditwasthefirstforwardingaddresssinceLima. Thereweretyres,brakeliningsandtubeswaiting,butnomail,noanswersto questions,nonewsfromanyone. Itwasthisuncertaintyasmuchasanything,Isuppose,thatfocusedmymindon California,becauseIcouldnotexpecttohavethefutureofmyjourneyresolved untilIgottotheStatesandwasoncemoreineasycommunicationwithEngland. ThinkingaboutCalifornia,IcouldnotresistanticipatingthereceptionIhadbeen promisedtherebyTriumph.TheAmericanmarketwasvitaltoTriumph'ssales, andtheirheadquarterswasinLosAngeles.Therehadbeentalkofahero's welcome,andinmydepressedstateIthoughtaboutitmorethanwashealthy.So faronmyjourney,Ihadscrupulouslyresistedtravellingasthoughtoadesti nation.Myentirephilosophydependedonmakingthejourneyforitsownsake, androotingoutexpectationsaboutthefuture.Travellinginthisway,daybyday, hourbyhour,tryingalwaystobeawareofwhatwaspresentandtohand,was whatmadetheexperiencesorichlyrewarding.Totravelwithone'smindonsome futureeventisfutileanddebilitating.Whereconcentrationisneededtostayalive, itcouldalsobedisastrous. Iwasawareofthedanger,andtriedhardtorecovermyearlierspiritofenjoyment andoptimismaboutthejourney.ThesqualorandsteamyheatofPanamadidnot help.ItriedtowringsomeinterestoutofthehotelwhereIwasstaying.Itwas moreofaboardinghouse,really,withguests,mostlysinglewomen,stayingfor longishperiodsanddoingcontractjobsinthecity.ImetPetethere,inthe kitchen,cookinghislunch.Oneoftheruleswasthatguestsmaynotcookinthe kitchen,butPetewasgrantedaspecialdispensation,hesaid,onthegrounds that'ifIcan'tcook,I'mleaving'.Theproprietor'swife,aknottywhiteladywrapped

inkimonos,tookarealisticviewbecausehelivedtherebythemonthandpaidthe dailyrateofsixdollars. Heofferedmeadrink,andwesatsweatingandalmostnakedunder thefaninhisbedroom,drinkingrumandcoke.Hedrankanawfullotofit.Hewas aconstructionengineer,youngandgoodlooking,butthereweredarkstains spreadingroundhiseyeslikeakindofrot. Iputitdowntothebooze,buthesworethathecouldleaveitalone.'Neverwhen I'mworking,'hesaid.'Onlyafterwards.'Hejusthappenednottobeworking. Inthatcase,Ithought,itmustbethescrewing.Petetoldmefairlyquicklythathe hadscrewedeverygirlinthehotel.Withoutexception.Itwasimportanttohimto makenoexceptions,thoughsomewereconsiderablylessinvitingthanothers. 'Stayinghereislikealicencetoscrew,'hetoldmeseriously.'Thegirlsareallvery discreet,theynevertalkaboutit,butIdon'tmindyouknowing.That'swhyIdon't mindpayingsixdollarsaday.It'sworthit.' IwasparticularlyinterestedinPetebecausehehadjustriddenathreecylinder KawasakionalmostthesameroutefromRiotoPanamathatIhadtaken.Iwas fascinatedbutappalledbyhisaccountofit. Hehatedit.Hehatedthecountryandthepeople.Alotofthetimeherodeat nightsothathewouldnothavetolookatthings.Betweenrideshesaidhehad spentmostofhistime'fuckinganddrinkinginbars'. 'RememberthatbridgecomingintoEcuador?'heasked. Therewasonlyonebridgehecouldhavemeant.Itwasbuiltlikearailwaytrack, butwithplanksinsteadofrailstotakethewheelsofcars.Thesleeperswereset abouteighteeninchesapart,andtherewasnothingbetweenthembutair,and onlyriverbeneath.Itmightnothavebeensobadiftheplankshadnotkept changingdirection,sothatitwasimpossibletobuildupanymomentum.Ihad fallenhalfwayacrossandwasluckynottohavegonethroughintotheriver.Bob andAnniehadalsofallenonitwiththeirNorton. 'SureIdo,'Isaid.Tfellonit.' Hehowled,andgrabbedmyhand. 'Metoo,pal.Whichwaydidyoufall?' 'Intothemiddle.' 'Jesus,Ionlyfellagainsttheside.Boy,thatwassomeride.I'mreallygladtomeet you,pal.' TheimportantthingforPetewastohavedoneit.Thewholejourneyhadtaken himtwomonths,againstmysix,andhehadspenttenthousanddollarsonthe way.Hesaidtherewasn'tanywherehewouldnotratherhavebeeninacar. Thehoteldidnothelpmeoutofmydepression.NordidtheslighttouchoffeverI feltnowandthen.WhenIwasinvitedtostaywithsomepeopleintheCanal Zone,Iacceptedgratefully.TheywereexceptionallykindandconsiderateaUS NavyCaptain,JohnMallard,andhiswifeAnne,livinginquartersonaMarine base,andfortwoweekstheygavemetotalinsulationfromcareorresponsibility inthatstrange,artificialworldofthepeacetimemilitaryestablishment. CaptainMallard,asubmariner,wassecondincommandoftheCanalZone,and amongthemostliberalandunderstandingmenIhavemet.WhilePanamanians werehurlinginsultsattheUSAheneverallowedaprejudicedorintolerantremark topasshislips,andheseemeddeeplyconcernedthattheAmericanpresence thereshouldbenefitPanamaniansineverywaypossible.Intheyearof Watergate,hewasafineandreassuringambassadorforhiscountry.

SoItriedtorebuildmymorale,andtosomeextentsucceeded,butstillIcouldnot beridofthethoughtofCaliforniaasthepromisedlandwhereIshouldbeableto shrugoffallmycaresandwoes.Isetoff,finally,justbeforetherainscame,with theconflictingambitionsofseeingalltheremarkablethingsthereweretoseein CentralAmericaand,atthesametime,togetthroughitallasfastaspossible.It wasnotaverypropitiousprogramme. OnmywayoutofPanamaIrideuptoVolcanattenthousandfeetforthe pleasureoffeelingcool.ImeetamaninthestreetwhotellsmeIcansleeponthe porchofthemotelthathemanages.Free.Therearetwopillarsunderaroof whereIcanslingmyhammock.AsI'mmakingmyselfcoffee,mybenefactor comesacross. 'Whataremarkablecoincidencethatweshouldmeet,'hesays.'Ifyouhadarrived afewminutesearlier,orlater,wewouldhavemissedeachother.' Iagreethatthisistrue,thoughheisstrainingmysenseofthemiraculous. HehascometosavemewithtwonaivereligioustractstranslatedintoSpanish anddistributedbyaNorthAmericanmission.Oneiscalled'SospendidoPorUn Hilo',theother'PesadoyHalladoFalto'.Thetitlesareliteraltranslationsofthe Englishidioms'Hangingbyathread'and'Weighedandfoundwanting'. USadvertisingcompaniesinSouthAmericaalsotranslatetheirdomesticslogans intoSpanish,wordforword. CocacolahasChispadelaVidafortheSparkofLife. MacDonald'sSuClasedeLugarisYourKindofPlace. EverywhereinLatinAmericaIhaveseenthesecrudeimagesimposedonthe Spanishculture,likeaterriblerevenge.WhattheSpaniardsdidtotheIndiansby theforceofarms,isnowbeingdonetothembythemightyYanquidollar. ThebordercrossingfromPanamatoCostaRicaisquickandcivilized.Soon afterwardsIfindasmalltownwithasmallrestaurantthatlooksirresistiblyclean andappetizing.Fullofmeat,eggs,rice,coffeeand wellbeingIrideon,takingarosyviewofthisnicecountry.WhenIrunoutof petrol,alaughingIndianwomansellsmealitreatafarmhousedoor.It'sallshe has,andit'snotenoughtogetmetoapump,butsometelephonerepairpeople stopandsiphonagallonoutoftheirtank.There'ssomethingnotquietrightwith thebike.Achangeofplugsimprovesit,butthere'sstillaproblem.Intheearly afternoonamountainrangetakesmebysurprise,liftingmehighupintoa freezingfog.Iwasn'texpectingsuchdramaticfeaturesinsuchasmallcountry, andhavetolaughatmyownfoolishness.Ontheothersideofthisrangeitis raining.OnthewayintoSanJoseIstopforacoffee,feelingcoldandabit depressed.Twogirlsaresittingnearby,andoneofthemisreallybeautiful.She smilesatmeandinstantlyIamhappyagain.ForthesecondtimeIhavetolaugh atmyself,butthistimewithmorepleasure. OutsidethecafeaGringoisstandingbythebike.HeiscalledLee,andhecame downwithsomefriendsontwoHarleySportstersandatruckfromBoston.They haveopenedarestaurantnextdoorcalledLaFanega,whereyoucanget hamburgers,quesoburgesas,pescadoburgesas,machoburgesas,draughtbeer andmusic.Theyhaveasparebed,sowhydon'tIstaythenight? NextdayIlookinmyaddressbooks.StartingwithfriendsinArgentina,Ihavea chainoffriendsoffriendsstretchingrightthroughCentralAmerica,andthere's onehere,justhandytocelebratemybirthday.

SoonIamsittingatthepoolsideofaveryswishcountryclubwithacompletely differentsetofpeople,listeningtoanimpeccablyturnedouthoneyfromFlorida withtightwhiteslacksanda'sweetAmericanass'.Herprovocativelybuck toothedcocktailsipper'smouthisdispensinggossipaboutsomepeople,who,it seems,aretheworld'sugliestandmostdisagreeablecouple.Heisarich alcoholic,andsheisacosmeticsurgeryfreak,whohasjusthadtwoinchesoffat removedfromherabdomen. 'She'lldropherpantsanywherejusttoshowoffthescars.Ain'tshegross?Last timehedrankhimselfalmosttodeathshehiredaLearjetandflewhimtoMiami. Itburnsmystomach.' CostaRicaispopularwiththeLearjetset,andhospitabletoGringos,butIhave toadmitthatlifehereseemsmorepleasantforjustabouteverybody.Icouldstay alongtime,wanderingbetweentheseaandthemountains,buttherainsare closeonmyheelsandit'stimetomoveon. NicaraguahasavolcanocalledSantiago. Ihavebeensittingontheliplookingdownintoitforanhour,completely mesmerized.NexttotheIguacufalls,itisthemostimpressivenatural phenomenonIhaveseen.Firstthereisanenormousbowl,whichfunnelsintoan evenblackercup.Atthebottomofthecupisapipeleadingtothecentreofthe earth,andinthispipeIcanseemoltenrocksurgingandsplashing.Itischerry redandalthoughitisalongwayawayitseemstocomeverycloseasIstareatit, sointenseistheglowandsofascinatingthethoughtofwhatitis,fullof mysteriousimplications,likeamoonshotinreverse.Iamtoldthatthe governmentfindsitusefulwhentheywantpoliticalopponentstodisappear withouttrace. InHondurasthemenseemtogetabittallerandslimmeragain,andhavea tendencytowearcowboyhatsandwalklikeGaryCooper.There'saquite wonderfulMayanruinatCopanwhereIspendaday.Inthegrassyclearings sensuousbodiesstandsculptedintostoneslabs,birdssingthrillingsongsanda fewadventuroussightseersmakepleasantcompany,butIcan'tstaveoffthe tirednessandlonelinessthatiscreepinguponmemoreandmoreoftennow. AdirtroadtakesmefiftymilesorsothroughforesttothefrontierofGuatemalaat asmallborderpost.OntheHondurassideIpayanotherdollartosomenebulous authoritycalled'Transit',forwhatIdon'tknow.Ipaidthemonthewayin,aswell ascustomsandimmigration.Theyallpretendit'sofficial,butyouareluckytosee areceipt,andthoughadollarortwoisnotmuch,itaddsupwhenyou'rescraping along.OntheGuatemalansidethefirstthingIseeisabattereddeskbythe roadsideandalittlefatmanwhoneedsashaveandwearssomethingvaguely likeauniform.HesaysheistheArmy,andIhavetopayhimadollar. 'HowdoyousayinEnglish',hesaidinEnglish,'whenyouhavetoomuchinthe night?' 'Hangover,'Isay. 'Hamburger?' 'No,hangover,'andIwriteitoutforhim:iHAVEAHANGOVER. Thaveahamburger,' hereads,entertainingusboth.Ibegintolikehimalittle,butI'mstillpissedoff aboutthedollar. 'CanIhaveareceipt?'Iask,tryingtomakeanuisanceofmyself.Helaughs happily.

'Ohno,thisisforme.SothattonightIcanmakeanotherhamburger.'ForonceI don'tmindlosingmydollar.That'showIlikemycorruptionhonest. TherewouldbemarvellousthingstoseeanddoinGuatemala,andIhave plannedtotakeadvantageofthem,buttheexcitementhasevaporated.Itis becomingterriblydifficultformenowtogetinterestedinanythingexceptthe routenorth.ThePanAmericanHighwaystretchesoutaheadofme,unbroken,all thewaytotheUSAandIfeelmyselfbeingsweptalongit,withnotime,no energy,foranythingmore.IseethefascinationoftheseCentralAmerican countriesbutcan'tdrivemyimaginationtotakehold.Everythinginmenowcries 'Enough.It'stimetostop.Giveusarest.' Thebikeistiredalso,butthatisonlyafigureofspeech.Idonotcreditthebike withfeelings.IfithasaheartandsoulofitsownIhaveneverfoundthem.People Imeetareoftendisappointedthatthebikedoesnotevenhaveaname.They oftensuggestnames('TheBug'istopfavourite),butnoneofthemseemtodo anythingforthebikeorforme.Formeitremainsamachine,andeveryattemptto turnitintosomethingelsestrikesmeasforcedandsilly. Butitisnotjustamachine,notbyanymeans,andIrespectittotallyforthevery specialthingitis.Iknowthatallitsidiosyncrasies,thethingsthatmakeitquite differentfromanyothermotorcycle,aretheresultofwhatwehavegonethrough together.ThewayIsit,mytouchonthethrottle,thespeedsItravelatandthe mistakesImakearewhatfashioneditintosomethinguniquelyconnectedwith me.LikethoseintricatelysculptedslabsofstoneIhavebeenlookingatinCopan, mybikerecordsthepassageoftimeandevents.Itssurfaceisrichlyengravedby incidentsoftwentymonthsandtwentyfivethousandmiles.Itbearsmajorinscrip tionsfromBenghazi,theNileferry,thedesert,theZoG,afrontwheelblowout inBrazil,abadfallinArgentina,aditchinColombia,andalmosteverydayhas contributedsomeminormarksomewhere.Ithasbeenmouldedbyme,andtoa largeextentithasreallybecomeanextensionofmyself. WhenItalktoit,whichIsometimesdoinmomentsofconcernorexasperation,I amofcoursetalkingtomyself.AndwhenIsayitistired,Imeanthatitreflectsmy ownfatigue.ForIam tiredalsooflookingafterit,andasweapproachLos Angeles,whichisasmuchhomefortheTriumphasitisforme,Ispendlessand lesstimefussingoverit,tellingmyselfthatitcansurelymanagethelastfour thousandmilesonitsown.Istopworryingaboutlittlefaults,andcuresymptoms ratherthanlookingforcauses. Iamspendinglessandlesstimeonkeepingupmyownsystemstoo.Myclothes aregettingragged,mybootsleakbadly.SinceHondurasthestraponmyhelmet hasbeenbroken,butIwon'tdoanythingaboutit.Mygogglesareeitherlostor scratchedorwithoutpadding.Mylefthandglovehasmostoftheleathermissing onthepalm,andtwofingersarepokingthrough.Onlytheflyingjacketisactually improved,becauseinBuenosAiresitbecamesodilapidatedthatIhadtosewa newskinoverthesleevesandshoulders,equippedwithglamorouslookingfur cuffsandcollar. SothebikeandIarebothrunningdown.InCostaRicaIwasluckytogetanew rearchainsprocket,fortheoldonewouldcertainlynothavelastedthrough,but otherwiseIamnolongerthefussyownerIoncewas.Aslongasitgoes,I'llnot askformore. InGuatemala,passinglakeAtitlan,Irideintoheavyrain.Thehighwayisbroad andempty,butmygogglesaremistingupandmyvisoriswornout.Iamsoused

tobeinginmotiononthebike,thatitneveroccurstometostopifIcando somethingwhileI'mgoing. Intherainandthecondensation,visibilityisalmostnil,andI'mtryingtowipethe dropletsofftheinsideofthelensesasIgoalong. SuddenlyIrealizethatIhavewanderedintothemiddleoftheroad,andlookup tofindahugetruckbearingdownonmeoutoftherainstorm.Itisfartoolatefor metoreact,anditisentirelybychancethatthetruckmissesme,byahair's breadth.AsIrealizewhatIdid,howcloseIcametobeingliterallywipedout, obliterated,Ifeelthatfearfulrushofheatandcoldsweatthatmakestheheart nearlyburst,andfeelimmenselygratefulforthewarningwhilewishingIknew whomtobegratefulto.AGodwouldcomeinusefulattimeslikethat. IcancountonlytwoothertimeswhenIcamesoclosetoanend. Imustbereallytiredatthebackofmyskull.Imustbecareful.Imustneverlet thathappenagain. BythetimeIgottoMexicoCityonecylinderwassmokingjustasithadin Alexandria,butthistimeIwasbetterprepared.Ihadtwosparepistonswithme, bothoversizesothatIcouldreboreifnecessary.Wasitnecessarywithonlythree thousandmilestogo?Thistimethough,afriendlyTriumphagentwastherewith alltheequipmentandthewilltohelp.Itseemedsillynottotakeadvantage. FriendsofBrunoputmeup,Mr.Cojuc,theagent,didtherebore,Iputittogether againinhisworkshopandiffornootherreason,theclosecontactthisgaveme withMexicanworkersmadetheexperienceworthwhile. Thejobitselfunfortunatelywasonlyapartialsuccess.Aswellasonecylinder gettingbadlyscored,theexhaustvalvewaspitted.Ihadnosparevalveandthere wasonlyjustenoughmetallefttogrinditinagain.Itshouldhavebeenalright,but itwasn't. AtGuanajuato,Ibegantosuspecttrouble,andasIpushednorthitgotworse. ThoseJunedaysridingupthroughbonedryMexicowereprobablythehottest ever.HotterthantheSudan,hottereventhantheArgentineChaco.Myfaced reddenedinspiteofalltheweatheringithadhad,myforearmsblistered,andthe engineranhotterandhotter. SomewhereafterCuliacanIlosttheflyingjacket.Ithadfinallybecome unwearableintheheat,andIhadtiedittotheredbagbehindme,buttheheat musthavedulledmysensesalso,foritwasnottiedasitshouldhavebeen. Somewhereamongunnumberedkilometresofopenroaditblewaway.Iwas utterlydistraughtwhenIfoundout,perhapsabnormallyso.Isearchedtheroad foranage,findingnosignofit,andthesearchingintensifiedmygriefuntilIhad tostoplookingbecauseIcouldbearitnolonger.Ithadbecomesomethingofan extraordinarysignificancetome,thatjacket,closelyconnectedasitwastothe loveIhadleftbehindme,andlosingitbrokeanimportantlinkwiththepast.For thefirsttimeIfeltthatIhadgonetoofarevertogobacktowhatIhadbeen before,andIbegantounderstandjusthowmuchunconsciouseffortIhadbeen puttingintokeepingmyconnectionswiththepastalive.Itleftableakandempty space. BeyondNavojoaIrealizedthatavalvewasburningout.Theleftcylinderwas misfiringconstantly,powerwasdroppingoff,fuelconsumptiongoingup. EventuallyIfoundthatbyridingwiththechokefullyinatfiftymilesanhourIcould stillgetreasonablepower.Atotherspeedsitwasprettybad,andofcourseitwas notgoingtogetanybetter.Iwasafraidthatthebikemightsoonbecome

undrivable,andasIcameclosertotheUSAitfeltasthoughsomemalignfate wasdeterminedtokeepmesouthoftheborder. IlasttouchedthecoastatGuyamas,andswamintheoceanthereknowingthatI wouldnotseethePacificagainuntilLosAngeles.ThatsouthernPacificcoast hadcometomeanagreatdealtome.EversinceIfirstcametoitinthesouthof Chile,atthelovelystretchroundPucatrihue, Iwaspowerfullydrawntoit,andmy mindrangedoverallthememoriesofsunsetsandsurf,saltandseaweed,frigate birds,pelicansandseagulls.TherewerethosesamepelicansatGuyamas plungingintothewavesaroundme,wearingthesameselfsatisfiedlookontheir faces.IntheGoldMuseumatBogotatherehadbeenagoldnecklacewitharow ofbirdsdelicatelyfashionedfromwire,andIhadbeendelightedtorecognize themas'my'pelicans,forsomeancientIncacraftsmanhadnoticedinthemthat samehappycomplacency. InlandfromGuyamasthesunwasevenhotter,andthelandwasasaridand featurelessasdesert.Longdistancebusesroaredbyathighspeeds,tooclose forcomfort,swingingtheirtailendsinanalarmingway.Onewhichhadcutinon meruthlesslystoppedfurtheruptheroad.Iwasabletoovertakeitbeforeithad pickedupspeedagain,andIrodeupalongsidethedriver'sseat.Helookeddown atmewithacontemptuousgrinandIraisedmyhandtopointitathisheadlikea pistol,andthenIshothim.Hiswholebodyjerkedupasthoughstruckbyabullet andhelookedveryangry,butitwastheonlytimeIevergotsatisfaction. Busesandlorriesallthrewoutquantitiesofunburntdieselfromtheirexhaust systemsbecauseofacommonsuperstitionthattheextrafuelwouldgetthem therefaster.Inthestillhotairtheblacksmokehoveredoverthehighwaylikea longcoilofbarbedwire,andridingthroughitmyfaceandclothesbecameblack withoilydroplets.Ifiddledfrequentlyattheroadside,tryingtogetbetter performancefromtheengine,andlostseveraltoolsthroughcarelessnessinthe heat.ItwasobvioustomethatIwaslettingmyselfgetclosetomylimits. ThoselastdaysinMexicowerelikethebeginningofthejourneyinreverse.Then themoreIcalledonmyresources,themoretheymultiplied.NowthemoreeffortI sparedmyself,themoretiredIbecame.AsIleftGuyamasatlunchtimefor Hermosillo,IknewIwouldprobablycrosstheborderthefollowingday,butI becameridiculouslyfearfulthatImightnotmakeit.Itwasasthoughallthe travellingIhaddonehadtaughtmenothing. OnthatlastdayinLatinAmerica,betweenHermosilloandNogales,Icouldnot helpnoticinghowmuchmoreprosperousthepeoplewere.PricesinHermosillo hadbeenskyhigh.TherewasnobodyIwouldevenhavecalledapeasant,let alonetheraggedchildrenandbeggarsIhadbeenusedtoseeingformostofthe lastthirteenmonths.Barsandrestaurantswerepaintedandclean,nobody seemedtospitanymore,therewerenooldwrecksontheroad,nowandering animals.Menworebootsandcowboyhats,andcleanpressedshirtsandeven lookedlikeAmericans.IthoughtthatbythetimeIcrossedtheborderitmightbe hardtotellthedifferencebetweenMexicoandtheUSA. SowhenIdidgettoNogalestheshockwasstupefying.Attheendofthisnormal, prosperousMexicanstreetstoodanedificeinglassandconcretethatseemedto myeyessograndiose,sounnecessarilycleanandmodernandbloatedthatIfeltI mustbesteppingoutoftheMiddleAgesintotheyear2001.IndeedIcouldnot imaginethatordinarypeoplewouldstandachanceofgettingthrough.Iprepared myselfforaveryroughtime.USborderofficialsarenotfamousfortheircordial

treatmentofraggedtravellers.WithmylastremainingpesosIboughtagiant papercupofOrangeCrushandstudiedtherampartswonderingwheretoattack them. Therearenooutgoingformalitiesatall,asthoughMexicohadsimplygivenupan unequalcontest.Irolledwarilyintooneofthecustomsbays.Anagentcameout withamarblechin,trouserswithhonedcreasesandhairlikemouldedplastic.I expectedhimtoemptythepetroltankanddrilloutthecrankshaftlookingfor cocaineorpeyote.Hedangledonehandlooselyintooneofmysideboxes withoutevenlooking. 'Okay,'hesaid. Whatdoeshemean,okay? Hegrinned.That'sokay.Immigration'soverthere.Gladtoseeyou.'Amazing. TheImmigrationmansmiledatmetoo.Iwasimpressed.'WhatcanIdoforyou?' hesaid. 'Youcanletmeintoyourfaircountry,'Isaid.Ihadn'tmeanttoputitthatway.It justcameout. 'That'sgoodtohear,'hesaid.'Wedon'thearthatmuchthesedays.Howlong wouldyouliketostay?' 'HowlongcanIhave?'Taskedyoufirst.' 'Well,threemonthsshouldbefine.''Okay.' Ireallydidn'tmeantostayanythinglikethatlong. HepunchedmeintohiscomputerterminalanditturnedoutthatforonceIwas notaprohibitedperson.Sothatwasthat,andIwasintheUnitedStates. GoingtotheUnitedStatesfromLatinAmericaislikegoingtoamovie,thekind theyliketocallaMajorMotionPicture. Iridealongthefreewaywaitingforthetitlestoshow.Allthewellknownimages popup:billboards,frontlawnswithmailboxesonsticks,cowboyhatsand blondesdrivingpickups.Idon'tknowtheplot,butit'sboundtobearichly satisfyingandprofessionaljob.Therealismisextraordinary,butIcan'tbelieveit's realbecauseeverythinglookssoterriblyrelevant.AllthedirtycornersoflifethatI havegotsousedtosouthoftheborderhavebeensweptclean. Anotherthing.Thereisthisincrediblesenseofease.ThemomentIcrossedthe borderIfeltsafe.Why?Ididn'tfeelunsafebefore.Notatall.Ithinkthe explanationisthathereIdon'tevenneedtothinkaboutit.Icanaffordtostop thinking.Lookattheroadsurface,forexample.Itisperfect.Notjustthisbit,but thenextbittoo,andallthewaytoLosAngeles.Icancountonit.Idon'thaveto worrythatroundthecorneritwillturnsuddenlytodirt,ordropmeintoapothole.I canalmostaffordtotakemyeyesofftheroadonlyhabitkeepsthemthere,a usefulhabitIshallneedagainlater. Andeveryonespeaksmylanguage.Idon'thavetothinkaboutmakingmyself understood.'What'sthebestwaytoLA?IsitthroughTucson?''That'sright.'So easy! Thenthere'ssomuchfataround.Everyoneisprosperous,thoughtheymightnot knowit,withahouseandarefrigerator.Thereisn'tanyonewhocouldn'taffordto helpmeiftheywantedto,andtheywouldwantto,Iknowit,becausetheirminds cangraspwhatIam.AlsoIamnotblackorcrippledorugly,andIhavethiscute Englishaccent.

InMexicothegrasswasbrown,butinArizonait'sgreenbecauseitiswatered.It mustbe.SurelyGodwouldnotbesodiscriminating.Theairisclean.Wouldyou believeit?NotawispofexhaustdoIseefromanycar,truckorbus.Thatisa miracleinitself.Andhere,justwhereIwantit,isacampsite.RioRicaabroad grassypaddockunderacleardrysky.Cleanlavatories,showers,washing machines,ashop.Coldbeer.'Fivedollars.' 'That'stoomuch,I'mafraid.' 'Oh.Okay.Sure.We'llonlychargeyoutwodollars.' Ineverdoubtedit.Islingmyhammockbetweentwotrees.Somekidscomeover, easy,cool,withbeer.TheytalktomeIdon'thavetomakeithappen.Weallgo offtospendtheeveningatagirl'shouseintown,eatingsandwiches,listeningto rock,talking.OneofthekidswasinVietnam.Ihearthewholestoryinthree sentences,andheisn'teventalkingaboutthewar.Infactthewordsdon'tsay much,butthemeaningcomesthroughlikeameetinginspace.I'msotunedinto bodylanguageandinflectionsthatIhardlyneedwords,buthavingthewordstoo issorelaxing. Itgoesonlikethat,throughTucsonandPhoenixnextday.Eventhebikehas relaxedandrunsbetterinsteadofworse.IseeonmyEssomapthatthere'sa longstretchofroadfromPhoenixtoBlythewithnotownmarkedonit,butIamso laidbackthatIdon'tthinktowonderwhy.BeforeIknowitI'minthemiddleof anotherdesert,totallyunexpected,hottereventhanMexico,withacrosswind blowingsandupmynose. Well,thatmakesforabettermovie,butitdoesn'tprickthebubbleofcredibility becauseI'mstillonafourlanehighwaywithplentyofgasinmytankand,sure enough,happilyplacedinthemiddleofthedesert,isthebig,greenColorado River,andtheKOAcampsitewithalltheusualfacilitiesandproudmobilehome ownersareliningupthecoldcansofCoorsbeerjustforadventurouschapslike me. NextdayIbattlemywayagainstanevenheavierheadwind.Thevalvetroubleis sobadnowthatI'mdownattimestotwentymilesanhour,andinrealtrouble withthebigcontainertruckswhentheycomepast.Thewindsandblastsmyarms andnoseandmakesmereallyquitetired,butasanordealitisstillcompletely fictionalbecause,whateverhappensinsidethebordersofthiscountry,you're nevermorethanahalfhourhelicopterflipfromtheultimateinmedical technology. Thethingcouldnothavebeenscriptedbetter.Onlytwohundredmilesawayare HollywoodandtheTriumphoffices.Withoutanysimulationortrickery whatsoever,Ishallbeabletoarriveintheworld'smostelaboratecityasthoughI hadjustcomeoutoftheAtbaraDesert. IhavegivensomethoughttowhatIwouldliketohappennext.Iseemarching bands,majorettes,agreatarenaofpeoplerisingspontaneously,irresistiblyto theirfeet,tearsstreamingdowntheircheeksGovernorBrown,armoutstretched, apologizingforthePresident'sabsencemyownsuccinctkeynotespeech remindingtheUSofherresponsibilitiesto herpoorerneighboursfollowedbyrapturousapplauseandanintimatedinnerwith theSecretaryofState. ThisisbeyondtheresourcesoftheTriumphcompanytoarrangeonthespurof themoment.IturnupattheirratherplushofficesontheedgeofLosAngeleslike abashfulBattleofBritainpilotmissingpresumeddead.

'Holycow,'theysay.'It'sTedSimon,'andtheyallshakemyhandandbringmea beer. IlookedaroundTriumph'sprosperousofficeswithanoptimisticeye,anticipating somesortofunspecified'goodtime'.SureIwantedabeer,andshoweranda chancetochangemyclothesandeventorestforabit,butwhatIreallywanted wascompany,nice,enthusiastic,appreciativecompany.AsaHeroInaturally assumedthatpeoplewouldbetumblingoverthemselvestoaccompanyme.All thekeenathleticexecutivesinthefrontofficewereextremelycordial.Allthe prettygirlsattheirstylishmahoganyveneerdeskssmiledverynicelyatme,but astheminutespassedmybrighteyeglazedover.Iwasn'tmakingcontact.In spiteofallthenicenessIknewtheycouldn'treallygraspwhoorwhatIwas,and maybe,even,theyweretoopreoccupiedwithothermatterstocare. Imusthavebeenastrangesight.Thedesertsunhadburnedmeverydarkand printedagogglepatternonmyface.Myshirtwasthreadbare,andmyjeanswere shreddedacrossthekneesandawkwardlypatched.Myhairwasunfashionably shortanddishevelledandIwasabitcrazyatthethoughtofhavingactually arrived.Iimaginedmyselftolookquiteromantic.Afterall,itwastherealthing, buttheirniceorderlyeyesgraduallyconvincedmethatIwasabitofamess,and thebestthingIcoulddowasgoandcleanup. Thecredibilitygapwidenedintoayawningchasmandneverclosed.Theywere unfailinglynicetome,andmateriallygenerous.Theytookthebikeintotheir workshopandpromisedtogiveitallthecarethatcouldbelavishedonit.They gavemeanotherbike,thesamemodel,touseinthemeanwhile.Theytookmeto ahotelabouttenmilesawayandbookedmeinattheirexpense,andleftme thereuntilthenextday. Myhotelroomwasatgroundlevelandhadthickglassslidingdoorsinsteadof windows,withtwosetsofcurtains.Ihadasquaredoublebedwithfreshly launderedsheetseveryday.Atthefootofthebedwasabigcolourtelevisionset. Therewasawritingdesk,itselfquiteadecentpieceoffurniture,andinthe drawerwasastackofstationeryandleafletsdescribingallthehotel'sservices andtellingromantictalesaboutitssupposedhistory.Ireadthemallavidly. Thebathroomhadapparentlybeendeliveredbythemanufacturerthatmorning. Everythinginitwasstillwrappedorsealedbyapaperbandguaranteeingone hundredpercentsterility.NoteventheboysfromHomicidecouldhavefounda fingerprintinthere. Inthebedroomeverythingwasimpeccabletoo.Itwasairconditioned,ofcourse. Notabreathruffledmycountenance.WhenmyarmitchedandIraisedmyhand automaticallytosmashatamosquito,therewasneveramosquito.Therewas onlyme. Iswitchedonthetelevision,anditrespondedimmediatelywithapictureof surgeonsandnursesingreenconclaveroundanoperatingtable.Thecamera closedinonahumanknee,andascalpelopeneditupbeforemyveryeyes. Horrified,IswitchedchannelstoanadvertisementforafilmcalledTheBug.A malevoicepromisedthatunlessIsawthispictureIwouldnotknowwhathorror meant.Awomanscreamedatme,horrified,andshowedhertonsils.TheBug eatshumanflesh,'saidthevoice,andthewomanscreamedagain. WithflesheatingbugsIwasalreadyfamiliar.Iswitchedoff.Therewasstillonly me.IhadeverythingIhadbeendreamingofformonths.Starchedlinen.Room

service.Steak,lobster,mutton,coldwhitewine,coffee,unlimitedhotwater,nota cockroachtobeseen. SittingtherealoneIfounditallquitemeaningless.Iwentforawalkroundthe extensivepremises,throughlobbyandpatio,pastpoolandfountain,bakeryand bookshopandsawthatsamenicesmileeverywhereIwent,andwritteninthe eyesjustasplainlythewords:'Otherwiseengaged'. Ilookedinmyaddressbooks.Therewereafewnamesandtelephonenumbers. Thefriendsoffriendswereallfartoohighpoweredtobecalledonthespurofthe momentlikethat.Therewasoneman,though,whomIhadmetinEngland,a businessmanIhadfoundrefreshinglyinterestingandintelligent.Helivedin Malibuandevenansweredthephonetome.IexplainedhowIhadarrivedinLos Angeles,andheaskedmepenetratingquestionsasthoughIwerehispsychiatric patient.Hepromisedtocallmeback,butneverdid. ThehotelwasontheinlandedgeofLosAngelesandIthoughtmaybeIwas amongparticularlystuffyandprovincialpeople,soIsetoutonthebiketofindthe realLosAngeles.Ineverfoundit.Irodeforeveronanastoundingwebof freeways,fouroreightlaneswide,laidoutlikeaneverendingconcretewaffle overthousandsofsquaremiles,lookingforsomewheretogo,butfoundnothing. Thesefirstdayshadaprofoundeffect.Ifeltcompletelylost,asthoughIhadbeen whiskedawayfromtheearthinmysleeponenightanddepositedamong humanoidsinasimulatedearthcity.Alicewasneversoflummoxedthroughher LookingGlass,notevenonthatvastchessboard.Inallhistravels,Gulliverwas nevermoreshocked,notevenwhenconfrontedbythegiantBrobdingnagian nipple. Iarrivedtherestillwiththesmellofsweatandstaleurine,ofunrulygrowthand opendecay,inmynostrils.Iwasusedtofacesthatshowedtheimprintof emotion,thestampofexcess.Iwasaccustomedtothingsbeingold,warndown, chipped,scratched,scuffedandpatched,butreal.WhereIhadbeen,peopleand thingswereforcedtoshowtherealstufftheyweremadeof,becausethe superficialcouldnotsurvivethebatteringitgot.Iwasusedtothesoundoflife roarsoflaughter,shoutsofanger,whistles,catcalls,bargaining,argumentand domesticsquabbletothesightandsmellofanimalstooldpeoplesunning themselves. WhereIhadbeen,childrencamerunning. Ilookedintothecarsthatrodealongsidemeonthefreeway.Isawmenand womenstaringblandlyaheadwithfaintsmilesontheircarefullycarefreefaces. Novisiblesignsoflifethere.Ilookedaroundmeforagenuinehouse.Theywere allsimulated.Somelookedlikeicecream.SomeweresimulatedSpanish.Some pretendedtobefactories,ormonasteries,orfarmhousecottages.Allfake. Nothingoriginal. Isawatinygirl,poisedastonishinglyattheedgeofahighway,abouttowander outintothetraffic.Therewasnoadultinsight.Shewastoddlingaimlesslyout intomyland,andtherewasnotimeformetodismountandhelpher,soI manoeuvredthebiketobarherway,hopingtochangehermind.Acarscreeched toahaltinfrontofmeandawomanleapedoutandsnatchedtheinfantaway. Thewomanlookedupatmewithavenomousexpressionandsnarled:'Ohno youdon't!' Afterdark,policehelicoptershoveredabovemeonthefreewayflashingtheir epilepticbluelampsandscouringthegroundwithhungrybeamsoflight.

ForseveraldaysIremainedatotalalien,andoutofthisalienationgrewafeeling oftremendousoutrageagainstthesenselessextravaganceofitall.Itwasentirely amatterofperspective.ToaSouthernCalifornian,hislifestyleandstandardno doubtseemedliketheleasthecouldgetbyon.Tomeitseemedpreposterous andsick.Iwanderedthroughsupermarketsandalong'ShoppingMalls'disgusted andobsessedbythenakeddrivetosellandconsumefrivolities. WhenIeventuallycametovisitDisneyland,Irealizedthattheultimateaim,the logicalconclusionforLosAngeles,wasthatitshouldallbecomeanotherDisney creation,acompletelysimulatedandtotallycontrolled'funenvironment'inwhich lifewasjustonelong,uninterruptedride. FromthepointofviewofaBolivianIndianchewingCocaonthealtiplano,Icould seethatitwouldalreadybeprettydifficulttodistinguishbetweenthetwo. Theeffectworeoffasmytansubsided,myinsectbiteshealedandthegoggle imprintfaded.FinallyIwasanoutcastnolonger,becausesomeoneinvitedmeto hishome.Hewasamotorcyclemechanicmakingamachinetobeattheworld's speedrecord.Hewasagentlefellowwithaslow,warmsmile,andhehadcome fromIndianawithhisgirlfriendwhowasagorgeousnurse.Theylivedinasmall placeinParamountandIwenttostaythereafterawhile.Idiscoveredthatlifedid afterallstillgooninLosAngeles,inaclandestineway,lurkinginthecornersof thewaffle. WhenIjudgedmyselftobesufficientlycivilized,Iriskedlaunchingmyselfonmy friendsoffriendswhowereverybiginHollywood,andsofinallyIgotrightup againsttheGiantNippleitself.MyfriendwasHerbertRoss,directorofaseriesof immaculatecomedies,andhehadtheideaaswesatmunchingchicken sandwichesinhisofficeatMGMofhavingmerideuponmymotorcycletoa partyinBeverlyHillswherehewasgoingthatevening. Histouchwasassureasever.IrodeupthroughChandlercountrytoahousefull ofgenuinemoviesuperstars,whonotonlythoughtmyarrivalapleasantsurprise butactuallygrasped,farbetterthananyoneatTriumphseemedto,whatmy journeywasallabout. Therewereotherinvitations,andafterawhileIstoppedprotestingaboutLos Angelesandbegantoenjoyit,untilitbecamedifficulttorecalljustwhyIhad beenmakingallthatfuss. Therewasalotofworktobedoneonmybike.Theforksweretwisted,hadbeen sinceArgentina.Thecylinderheadturnedouttobefractured.Theoilscavenge pipehadbeenknockedsidewaysinSouthAfrica,sotheyhadtogetinsidethe crankcase,andwhiletheywerethere,theyreplacedthecrankshaft,becausethe headhadcomeoffoneoftheflywheelretainingbolts.Thetransmissionhad nevergivenanytrouble,buttherewereotherminorirritationsthatneededsorting out. Onemanworkedonitforaweek.Heseemedefficientbutheartless,andIcould neverfindawaytotalkaboutitwithhim.ThereweremanyquestionsIwantedto ask,thinkingthatthebikereallycouldhavebeenmuchmoretroublefreethanit was.InmostofthepoorercountriesBritishbikeshadatremendousreputationfor reliability.InthesophisticatedcountriesliketheUSAitwasjustthereverse.The storywasthatTriumphswereeccentricandtroublesome,andyouhadtobuy GermanorJapaneseifyouwantedreliability. Itseemedtomethatthiswasmostlytheresultofsuperiormarketingand propagandafromJapanintherichermarkets.Ithadledtoasituationinwhich

dealersandmechanicswereinvolvedmostofthetimewithJapanesemachines. Britishbikescouldonlybeanuisancetothem,withtheirarchaicengineering, requiringdifferenttoolsandadifferentapproach.ItsuitedthemthatBritishbikes hadabadreputation,because itexcusedtheconsequencesoftheirownsloppywork.IthoughtthatifIhadany obligationtowardsTriumphforthesupporttheyweregivingme,itwasto demonstratethattheirbikereallycouldruncleanandtroublefree. TheattitudeinLosAngeleswasquitetheopposite.Theyseemedreadyto swallowtheunreliabilitystorywhole.Theirremedywassimplytoreplace everythingandsendmeonmyway. 'You'llnevergetmorethantenthousandmilesoutofasetofpistonsanyway,' theysaid.Ifounditdisheartening,butplainlythingshadgonetoofarforittobe worthwhileobjecting.Thetruthwasthatinspiteofallthebriskconfidenceinthe frontoffice,everybodywaswaitingfortheplacetocrashabouttheirears.Andif mymechanicseemedtohavelostheart,itwasnotsurprising,forhehadalready gothimselfanewjobwithYamaha. SoItookwhatwasofferedandsaidthankyou.Theypretendedtobelieveinme, andIpretendedtobelieveinthem.Ithoughttheywerenicepeople,andIthink theylikedme,butitwastoolatetodoanygood.Nobodywantedtoknowany more. IleftLosAngeleseventuallywithabikesetuptocarrymuchmorestuff.Ken CravenhadwrittentomeofferingmenewboxesandDickPierceinLAfittedme outwitharackandmuchbiggertopboxthanIhadhadbefore.Ihadabandoned theoldrackinJohannesburg,andIhadslungthesideboxesdirectlyonthe frame.ItoldDickhowtheoldrackhadfracturedonthewaytoNairobiandthat thesidestrutshadbeentoofeeble,andhesaidtheywouldreinforcethesystem supportformeandputonmuchstrongerstruts.Itwasaveryfinerigintheend, offeringalotmorecapacity.Ikeptthesinglesaddle,withtheleathercoverIhad mademyselfinArgentina,andtheholeburnedinthebackofitbymypetrolstove whenIhadbeencookingriceatIpialeswithBruno. ThesunofCaliforniaislikewhitewineandpinesap.Itmaybeatemperatesun, butithasanardentnature.Itliftedmyheartwithaheadybuoyancyandspiced theairwitharesinoustang.Itshonedownonmeloyallyupthecoastroadfrom LosAngeles,beatingatmefromtheconcretefreeways,beckoningmefrom Pacificbreakers,winkingfromwindstirredleavesandgrasses.Itfollowedme throughSanFrancisco,bouncingoffwindowpanesandshiningonlonggolden hair.ItwarmedtheterracottaironworkoftheGoldenGateBridge,flashedoffthe teethofatollcollector,hurriedmeovertheraingroovesandupthehighwayuntil, ahundredmilesfurtheron,itcameintoitsownamongtheforestsandhillsof NorthernCalifornia. Wherethehotcementgiveswaytocoolerasphaltandthehighwaybeginstorise andfallandcurveagainstthehillsides,thebiketransformeditselffromarunning animalintoabirdandleanedovertoswoopandcurlwiththecontoursof MendocinoCounty.Somewherethere,beyondUkiahandWilletts,wherethe highwaymeetstheEelRiver,Iwoundofftotherightandflewinamongthe mountains,loopinghighuptowardsthesunanddownagainintoabowloffertile landandgoldensunshine.

Theairwasheavilyscented.Ismelledblackberryandhayandresin.Wavesof vividaromareinforcedmyjoyatbeingbackonthelandagain,andIhadto recognizethecravingIhadcreatedinmyselfforlandscapeandspace.Fora while,absorbedinthemindbogglingmaterialismofLosAngeles,Ihadforgotten thosethirtythousandmilesofplains,mountains,rivers,forests,deserts,skies andstars,buttheywouldneverbeerasedfrommysubconscious.Aswithmusic, theycouldbeignoredforawhileinpursuitofsomeshorttermenthusiasm,but thehungerwouldbuildupsilentlyinsidemeuntilsomethingasslightasascent ofpineorasnatchofpianowouldwarnmethatIwasperilouslycloseto starvation. Iroderoundaslitheringcurveontoastraightsection.Thelandrosetoahigh ridgeonmyleftandfellawaytotherightinamoregentleslopethatwouldbringit eventuallytotheEelwindingamongtherocksfarbelow. Icrossedacattlegrid,andthenthecountylinebetweenMendocinoandTrinity. Thelandherewassparselywoodedwithoak,youngfir,madroneandmanzanita. Isawopengrasslandabovemewherethebigtimberhadoncestood.Nearthe roadlayheapsofrustingmachinery,theleavingsofasawmillabandonedwhen thelandhadbeenloggedandsold.IknewaboutitfromBobandAnnie.Itwas oneofthesignsthattoldmeIhadarrived. Ayellowmailboxwasplantedonapostbytheroadsideannouncingthenameof theranchandIfollowedthetrackdownthehillandalongsideabigsunburned meadow.Thetracktookmepastonewoodenhouseandanewlyerectedbarnto anotherbiggerhouse.Itwasearlyafternoon.Icouldseeahorseinthemeadow butnopeople.ThenoiseofthebikeseemedinappropriateandIwasgladtoputit torestandletthesoundfadeintothesilence.Therewereducksonasmallpond. Agoatstoodfacingawayfromme,obstinatelyrefusingtorecognizethe interruption. Iclimbedsomewoodenstepstotheverandaofthehouseandwentinside.Abig manwithunrulyfairhairsatsprawledinachairsmokingahomerolledcigarette andstaringstraightatmewithwide,livelyeyes.Ithoughtitoddthathehadn'tgot uptoseewhowasmakingallthenoise.Hewasn'tbusy. 'I'mafriendofAnnie's,'Isaid.ThosewerethewordsIwastoldtosay,my credentials. 'Hi,'hesaid.Hecontinuedtolookatmewithengagingcuriosity,asthoughImight turnintoarabbit.'I'mlookingforCarol,'Iadded. 'Oh,'hesaid,stillgazingatmequizzically.Thesilencegatheredagain.Iwaited. Therewasnohurry.Awaspbuzzedagainstthewindowpane.Itwasvery peaceful.IknewwhathewasdoingandIwasenjoyingit,twostrangersalone togetherinaroom,appraisingeachother,savouringeachotherlikeanimals. Peopletalktoomuchatfirst,justmakingpublicity.Itwashardlymorethana significantpause.Thenhegotup,andwalkedtothewindow. 'They'redownbytheriver,Iguess,'hesaidpointingoutoverthemeadow.Then hesmiledbeatifically. 'Heardaboutyou,'hesaid,andgrabbedmeinabearhugandkissedmesolidly onthecheek.Thatdidsurpriseme. Hetoldmehowtogettotheriver,overthemeadow,pastavolleyballnetand thenleftbySuicideRock.Iwalkedoverthemeadowbubblingwithjoy.It'sthat damnedsun,Ithought,thesamesunthatwasshiningonCapeTowninthe

autumnandonRiointhespring.Itgetsinsidemeandbubbleslikealeaky champagnebottle.PrettysoonIshallbeengulfedinecstasy.Icanfeelitcoming. Attheotherendofthemeadowagirlwaswalkingtowardsme,barebreasted andtrailinghershirtthroughthelonggrassfromherfingers.Shesawmeandput ontheshirt,holdingitclosedwithherhand.Whenwemetinthemiddleofthe meadow,IsaidIwasafriendofAnnie'sandlookingforCarol. 'Oh.Hi,'shesaid,andreleasedtheshirt.Tdidn'tknow.Wegetsomepretty creepypeoplecomesometimes.Annie'sdownattheSwimmingHolewithBob, andyeah,Carol'stheretoo,withJosie,ChristineandFrog.' Ifoundthewayeasily,andmetCarolwalkingupfromtheriverasIcamedown. Shewaswithtwoyounggirls,andmyfirstimpressionwasthatsheresentedme slightly.Ihadnevermetherbefore,butguessedwhoshewas.PerhapsIwas feelingtoopleasedwithmyself.PerhapsIlookedasthoughIthoughtIwasGod's gifttowomen.Whateveritwas,Ifeltadistancebetweenus,butitdidnotmatter tomeatthetime.Ifeltnospecialattractiontoher.Shehadstraight,darkhairtied withanelasticband,anarrowovalfaceandafunnilyshapeduptiltednose reddenedbysun.Ithoughtshewastoothin.Evenso,twothingsaboutherwere striking.Hercolouringwasdramatic,russetastheripestapple,andhereyes werebigandgrey.Inoticedthemwithoutpayingtoomuchattention. BobandAnnie,itseemed,hadgoneupaheadtotheCampSite,whateverthat mightbe,andsoIwalkedupwithCarolandthetwogirls,whowereChristineand Josie. 'AndFrog?'Iasked.'WhoorwhatisFrog?''You'llseeshesaid.That'satreat youhaveinstore.'Inoticedherdazzlingsmilethen,butitstilldidn'tmean anythingspecial. Wewalkedupslowly,talking.WetalkedaboutEcuadorandVenezuela,and gardensandmarriagesandrattlesnakes,andtreesandOhiowhereshewas from.Shehadawarmvoice,pitchedabitlow,andapowerfulMiddleWest accentthatsaid'Bahks'forbox,andmademewanttolaugh,butJosiegotinfirst with'AreyouaLimeyman?',andsowealllaughedatmyoutrageousBritish accentinstead. Ilearnedthattheranchwasacommunealthoughtheynevercalleditthat,and thattheyhadsixhundredandseventyacresofthemostbeautifullandinthe world,boughtcheapafterithadbeenlogged.Ilearnedthatpeoplewhocutdown treesindiscriminatelyforprofitweredespicable,andthatCarolworkedthe vegetablegardenwhere,withalittlehelpfromherfriends,sheproducedenough tofeedtwentypeople.AlsothatsomeonewebothknewinSanFranciscowasa nerble. 'What,'Iasked,'isanerble?' 'Anerble,'shesaid,'isonethingandanonieisanother.AskFrogaboutnerbles andnonies.Frogisinchargeofnaming.''Who'sinchargeofFrog?' 'Honkshoes,'sheexclaimedmysteriously,'nobodyisinchargeofFrog.Frogisin chargeoftheworld.' Shesaiditasthoughshemeantit,butIgotnofurtherwithmyquestionsbecause wehadclimbedoutoftherivergorgeandcrossedasmallclearing,andwewere attheCampSite.Somerattanmattinghadbeensetupasscreensroundaroom sizedspaceintheshelterofagroupofoaks.Insidewereanoldstuffedsofaand someeasychairs,alowtable,orangeboxessetupasshelvesforfoodand things,andoldcarpetsontheground.Anoutdoorroom.

'No,itneverrainsinthesummer,wellhardly.' Anniewasthereandembracedmefondly.Bobtoo,andsomeotherpeople. Everybodylookedverypleased.Frog,asIhadguessed,wasasmallboy.He stoodontheedgeofthecircleandlookedmeoververythoroughlyforawhile. Hewasonlyfour,butverytoughandselfcontained,aforcetobereckonedwith. TheysaidIshouldsleepthereattheCampSite.JosieandChristinewere sleepingtheretoo,andmaybeothers.Carolsaidweshouldgouptothecabinin themorningandshewouldmakepancakesforbreakfast.Shesaidshelivedina woodencabinupthehillontheothersideofthecountyroad,andIcouldfinditby listeningforthesoundofthepiano. 'Apiano,'Icried.'Youmustbejoking.' Shesmiled.Ithinkitwasthepianothatmademebegintotakeitallseriously.A pianoisadistinctlypermanentthing. Sixhundredandseventyacresisalotofland,especiallywhenitisallupand down,lacedwithstreamsandstuddedwithhillocksandhumpsofcrumbling stone.Iambledarounditforsometimeinthemorning,lookingforthecabin.A certainkindofcountrysidehasalwaysattractedme.Ilikestreamsofclearwater runningatagentlepaceoversmoothrocksandpebblesfreckledandveinedwith thebrownsandgreensandyellowsofmysteriousminerals.Ilikegrassybanks tiedtotherootsofancienttrees,androughhewnhillsidesscatteredwithliveand fallentimber,bouldersandmosses,leavesandlichens,wherecreaturesIhave neverseencangoabouttheirbusinessundiscovered.Ilovelandthatrisesand dips,foreverrevealingandconcealingsecretplaces,intricatelandwithshelter andfoodforallkindsoflife,bigandsmall. Thepowerofthisattractionwasheightenedenormouslybymylongjourney.In Africa,Brazil,ChileandArgentina,Colombia,CostaRica,somanyplaces,Isaw countrysidewhichdrewmealmostwiththeforceofdestiny.Itbecametoopainful tobeforeverpassingitby.IfeltIhadtostopsomewhereandmakesomelasting connectionwiththisearth,tobecomeinvolvedwithitinsomeway.Thepowerof thedesirewasoverwhelming.Iwalkedthroughtheranch,smellingtheearthand leaves,startlingdeer,beingstartledmyselfbythesuddenscreechofpeacocks roostinginalargeoak,andthought'Thiscouldbetheplace.Thishastobethe place.' Iheardthepiano,andfoundthecabinonagentlyslopingshelfofland.Astream ranalongoneside,lostunderathrivingcolonyofblackberrybushes,andtall treesprovidedshadeontheotherside. Itwasamodestcabin,squareandsetonpiles,madeofplankingwithatarpaper roof.Thepianowasinthefrontroomwhichoverlookedthevalleythroughalarge sheetofacrylicsetintothewall.Alsointhefrontroomwasabig,black,castiron, woodburningFranklinstove.Atthebackwasabedandakitchenrange.Behind thecabinwasaclearspacewithanouthouse,ahoseriggedupforashower,and achoppingblock.Thewatercameinatubefromupstream. Theheatwasbeginningtobuildupfortheday.Allthedoorswereopenand warmairmovedthrough,carryingallthescentsofthewoodland.Carolwasalone andwetalkedmuchaswehadthedaybefore.Nobodyelsecame.Ihadtoadmit thatsuitedme,andCaroldidnotseematallsurprised.Iplayedafewpieces, clumsilythroughlackofpractice,whileshemadebreakfast.Thearomaofcoffee waftedthroughthecabin,followedbythesmelloffryinginhotbutter. 'ThebutterisfromGermany,'shesaid.'Germanyisoneofourcows.'

'Frogagain,'Isaid. 'Youknowit,'shesaid.'Really.' Weateourwaythroughmoundsoflittlesoftpancakessoakedinalmostpure maplesyrup.Thesimplicityofthecabin,andthegoldensilenceallaroundus, wasaffectingmeprofoundly.Halfwaythroughthepancakes,Isaid: Tstilldon'treallyknowwhatyouarealldoinghere?' Shelookedupwithaflashofangerinhereyes.Thenshesnorted. Tguesstherearesomepeopleherewho'dliketoknowtoo.' Shetriedtotellmesomethingabouttheranch,howithadcomeaboutoutofthe turmoilofStudentRevolt,FlowerPower,CivilRights,theWomen'sMovement, theVietnamWar,allthosewavesofenergyrushingacrossthefaceofAmerica promisingastormofchangeandliberation. 'Someofusgottogetherandfoundthisland,afterithadbeenrippedoffbythe loggers.Itwasamazinglyinexpensive.Someoftheguyswhowereatschool together,theywantedtostartaschoolhere.Onedaywewill.It'sstillmydream.' 'Whathappened?' Tguesswhenwegotherewefoundwehadtoomuchtolearnourselves.' Ilistenedhardtryingtounderstand,buteveryanswerbeggedanotherquestion, andIdidn'treallywanttoaskquestions.Thereweresomepeoplehere,livingon someland.Whyorhowseemedlessimportantthanthefactthattheyweredoing it.Inanycasetheonlywaytofindoutwouldbetodoitwiththem. Apparentlytherewasthisoneannualcrunch,themortgagepayment.Everyyear theystruggledtomakemoney,sellingproduce,haulinghayforaneighbour, maybegettinginmoneyfromjobsinthecity,buttheywerenotdesperate.There wasmoneyamongthem,alreadyinheritedorinaparent'sbankaccount.No question,onewayoranotherthepaymentwouldbemet.TheAnnualMortgage Meetingwasasymboliccrunch,whentheylookedateachotherandestimated howmuchenergytheyhadinthebank,andwhatkindofenergyitwas. TheAnnualwascomingupsoon.Igatheredthatthisyeartheenergywas runninglow.Therewerefewerpeoplelivingontheranchthaneverinitsfouryear history,onlyhalfofthetwentyormorewhohadbuilttheirownsmallhouseson variouspartsoftheland. 'Weputallourenergyintoourrelationships,andtheresultsaretotallyamazing. Really.You'dneverfindamorebeautifulsetofpeopleanywhere.But,Idon't know,wewereonthisbighigh,butitseemstobefading,whichisfinebut...it's reallyhardonthekids.' 'Look,youknowwhatsurprisedmemostwhenIgothere?'Isaid,bravely.'The mess.Imean,allthestufflitteredroundthebighouse.Idon'tunderstandhow youputupwiththatugliness.Doesn'tanyonewanttoclearitup?' Tknow,'shesaidsadly.'Itseemstobereallyhardforpeopletofindthatkindof energyrightnow.' TherewasnodoubtingCarol'senergy.Sheworkedfuriouslyinthegarden.I spentmostofthatdayandthenextwithher,atthecabinorinthegarden.She toldmethingsaboutherselfwhichsurprisedandsometimesdisturbedme.The disturbingthingswereaboutlove,differentkindsofloveforpeopleandthings.It wasalarminglyhonest,butexhilaratingtoo.Sometimeduringthosetwodays,her greyblueeyesgottoobigformeandswallowedmeup.IforgotthatIwasonly intendingtobethereforafewdays,thatIwasalreadybookedonashipfor

Australia,andthatIwasonlyhalfwayroundtheworld.ThenextdayIrodethe bikeupthetrailtothecabinandmovedin. Idon'tthinkIeverfellinlovewithCarolinthewayIhadfallenbefore.Lovesimply wrappeditselfroundme.Shewasmadeofit,andtheranch,Idiscovered,was fullofit.Itwaswhattheyhadreallycometherefor,anditwaswhatIwanted morethananythingelsetobealiveandinloveonlandlikethat.Aweekorso laterIrodeintoSanFranciscoandpostponedmysailingfromAugustto November. Iclaimedthatlongsummer,immersedinloveandsunshine,asmyrewardfortwo yearsofphysicalandemotionalbattering.AlthoughIhadstoppedforafew weeksatatimeinJohannesburg,CapeTown,RioandSantiago,thoughIhad evenfalleninloveoncebefore,apartofmehadalwaysbeenunattached,waiting tomoveon.Thejourneyhadneverstopped,andallthewhileIwassoakingup informationandsensationatanalarmingrate. Icametotheranchbrimfuloffeelingsandinsightswhichhadhadnoreleaseon theway.Likeacargoofperishablegoods,theywerethreateningtorotinme.So Ispilledmyheartoutonthatlandandamongthosepeoplewhohadmadeittheir businesstosharefeelingsanddreams. Therewasworktodo,achancetoleavesomethingthatwouldsurvivemy passing.Webuiltanextensiontothecabinthatwideneditbyafewfeettowards theblackberrybushes,andgaveasenseofnewspacethatwasquitepalatial. WecalledittheEastWing,andmovedthebedintoittoreceivethemorningsun. Theblackberrybushesconcealedabusycommunityofbirds,frogs,rodentsand variousspeciesofsnake.Thelargestinhabitantwasthecivetcat,akindof spottedskunk.Forawhiletheentirewallofthecabinwasdown,andwelivedas thoughinanextensionoftheblackberrybush,opentothestarsandthemoon andthecoolnightworld.Thenthecivetcattooktovisitingme. Iwaswokenbythestartlingsoundofsomeonerunningacrossthebarewooden floorinsmallhobnailedboots.Itdidnotstop.Inshortrushesthesoundtraversed thecabinfromendtoend.Thereweresnufflingnoises.Soundsofpleasureand excitement.Boxestoppledover.Abroomstickclatteredtothefloor.Whoeverit was,wasbrazenbeyondbelief.TotellthetruthIwasdelightedthatsomesmall wildanimalshouldwanttoliveitslifesoclosetominebut,evenso,therewasa distinctlackofrespect.Alessonwouldhavetobetaught. 'HonsaidCarol,'justbecareful.Ifyouscareit,it'llstinktheplaceout.' Iwatchedfromthebed.Themoonwasbright.Somethinglikeabigwhiteshaving brushemergedfrombehindthechestandwentbobbingjauntilyacrosstheroom. Rattattattattattatwentthehobnails.Icouldjustmakeoutthelustrousblack furofthebody,polkadottedwithwhite,butitwastheflouncingwhitetailthat enticedtheeye,andthreatenedthenosewithdoom. Iprowledroundthecabin,nakedinthemoonlight,butthecivetknewIwas powerless.Itwasutterlyinsolent,didexactlyasitlikedandleftinitsowngood time. ThesecondnightIwasbolder.Proddingitwiththelonghandleofamop,Itriedto guideittothedoor.Failure.Thecivetactuallyseemedtoenjoythegameand stayedevenlonger.Thenoiseitmadewasphenomenal. 'Theyhavethesepadsoftoughenedskin,'Caroltoldme.'Theysignalby thumpingtheground.'Underthecivet'shammerblowstheplanksofthecabin resoundedlikeaxylophone.Adorableasitwas,wewerelosingsleep.

ThethirdnightIstrucklucky.BychanceIheldthemoptherightwayround,and brandishedthemopheadinawaythatIimaginedwouldbeveryfrighteningto civets.Thecivetrusheduptothemopheadandpositivelyfawnedonit,clearlyin loveatfirstsightwithwhatittooktobetheultimatelyhandsomecivet.Idrewit cunninglyacrossthefloorandoutthroughtheopenkitchendoor.ThenIclosed thedoor. Withthewholesideofthecabinmissing,thatwasaverythingestureofdefiance, butthecivetdidnotreturn.Hideouslydeceived,itjoinedtheranksofheart brokenloversandcreptawayintothebushestopine. CarolandIlovedverydeeply.Itseemedinconceivablethatitcouldcometoan endandIlivedmylifethereasthoughitwasforever.Therangefeltlikehome andthepeopleonitbecamemyfamily. Ilearnedtoknowtheland,walkingrounditandworkingonit.Thereweremany moreencounterswithanimals,includingathrillingmeetingwitharattlesnake carriedoffwithgreatdignityonbothsides.Thesummerheldoutrightthroughto theendofOctober,coolingslowlyasthedaysdrewin,butstayingbrightand clear.Moreandmoreranchersweremakingtripstothecityandsomewere stayingtherelongerthantheyexpected.Itwasevidentthatsomenewimpulse wouldhavetobe foundtobringeveryoneback,andasthenumbersdiminishedtheprospectofa winterontheranchbecamelesstenableforthosewhoremained. EventuallyFrog'smotheralsodecidedtomovetoSanFrancisco.Shortlybefore sheleft,Frogstoodonthewoodenstepsofthecommunalhouseanddeclared thathewasnolongerFrog.Hisname,henceforthwouldbeT.A.Frogwasborn withtheranch,andheseemedtohavegraspedwithextraordinaryclaritythatit wastheendofanera. DuringthelastmonthIbegantodigadrainageditchacrossahillsidetointercept springwaterthatwasfloodingthefoundationsofthebighouse.AsIdug,it becameastream,amicrocosmicriverwithcascades,bridgesandgrassybanks whichIimaginedmightonedayblossomwithspringflowers.Itrevealedscoresof forgottenmemoriesofstreamsIhadcampedby,paddledinorsimplygazedinto asachild.Itledme(morethanIledit)inameanderingcurvearoundthehouse, sothattheclearingawayofoldjunkandabandonedmachinerybecamepartof somethingnewandexciting. Itooktheexperienceofthestreamasaparableonlife,believingthataslongasI didwhatIdidwholeheartedly,itcouldonlygowell,andiftherewastobepain, thenthatalsomustleadtobetterthings.Therewouldhavetobepain.The journeyhadtobefinished.Icouldnottaketheranchwithme,butIcouldatleast leavesomething,apartofmyself,behind. Thesailingdatewas15November. IhadseentheP&OlinerOriana,allfortytwothousandtonsofher,thedaybefore whenIcameovertheBayBridgefromBerkeley.Shehadafairytalebrilliance floatingthereinthedarkwinterevening,andjustlookingmademefeelthousands ofmilesawayandsad. Theyloadedthebikeinthemorning.CarolandIwerestayingatafriend'shouse onMapleStreet,andintheafternoonT.A.'smotherbroughtherVolkswagen beetleovertotakeusalltotheship.Shewasenormouslypregnantandvery happyaboutit,andIwasallowedtoputmyhandonherbigtummyandlistenfor thebabyinside.Itwasaheartbreakingthingtodointhecircumstances.The

fatherofthisstillunbornwonderwasalsotherewithstillanotherrancher,andthe fiveofus,withallmyluggage,completelyfilledtheVW'seggshapedinterior. WedrovealongClaytoGough,leftandrighttoVanNess,leftandrightagain pastStocktontoPier35.1fastenedontoallthedetailshungrily.Wewentthrough anarchwaypastapotbelliedguardtotheluggagereception,andIjoineda queueofpassengerswhiletheothersmadetheirwaytomycabin.WhenIarrived amongthem,otherranchersandfriendshadarrived.BobandAnniewerethere withthebiggestrollsofpaperstreamersIhadeverseen,andLarry,another closefriend,hadbroughttwobottlesofchampagne. Therewasatremendousairofexcitementaboutusall.Theshipwassogrand, andmadesuchapowerfulstatementaboutromantictravel,thatnobodycouldbe immunetoit.Wecelebratedasthoughallofusweregoingalong,anditreally begantofeellikethat.Igrabbedoneofthestreamersanddodgedcrazilyround andbetweenpeopleuntilIhadtiedusallintoagreatknot,andtheemotional temperaturerosefarbeyondanythingIhadeverknownbeforeinagroup.We kissedeachother,allofus,menorwomenregardless.Ifeltadistinctrushoflove foreverypersonthere,andknewthatitwasreciprocated,andIwasabletosaya fewthingsthatweretrue. Itwasamostmovingexperiencecreatedentirelybythosemarvellouspeopleout oftheirrealwarmthandaffectionforme,anditboundmetothemforever.

AustraliaandMalaysia IsteppedofftheshipatSydneywonderingwhatitwouldbeliketoarrivethere withnoname,nopast,nothingbutahandfulofcashandanewlifetostartfrom scratch.Untiltheyopenedupthemoon,AustraliawasstillthefarthestIcouldget fromtheplaceIcalledhome. ItwasacontinentIknewonlyasacaricature.Perhapsbecauseitwassofar away,theonlyimagesthatseemedtotravelthedistancewereabsurdly overblown.AustraliansweretheAncientGaulsoftheTwentiethCentury,agood heartedpeoplesountouchedbythenicetiesofcivilizationthatwithonesweepof theirgoodintentionstheycoulddomoredamagethananelephantinHarrods. Australianwomen,Iknew,werebigandbrazen,andwentaboutthestreets dressedandmadeupforthestageinthebeliefthattherightwaytocatchaman wastoincitehimtorape.Thewoundssustainedduringthissavageformof courtshipweresoothedbyswimmingtwohundredlengthsbeforebreakfast. Australianmenwerebigandbronzed,andworeshortsandsingletsfromwhich theirmuscledlimbsextendedlikefourstringsofsausages.Attheendofoneof theupperstringswasattachedeitheratennisracketorasmallbottleofbeer calleda'Stubbie'.Theyambledaboutinhotsunshinebeingdisgustinglyfrank abouttheirnaturalfunctionsandwaitingtobeincitedtorape.IfoneoftheseKing Kongfiguresappearedovertheskyline,thethingtodowasrunforyourlife. Icameashoredeterminedtoforgetallthejokesandcartoonsandridiculous stereotypesandtolearnaboutAustraliafromscratch. Itwasnoteasy.DuringthefirstdaysinSydney,gettingreadytorideuptheeast coast,IlookedaroundmewiththefreshesteyeIcouldmanageinthedusty Decemberheat.Isawmenamblinginsingletsandshorts.Theirmuscleslooked remarkablylikesausages.Isawwomenwhohadapparentlyslippedoffstage

duringtheintervalofamatineeperformanceofCabaret.Theylookedasthough anythinglessthanrapemightbemistakenforindifference.Inoticedthatmany menworetailoredshortswithcutelittleslitsuptheseamslikecheongsamsto showalittleextraflashofthigh,andtheobscenethoughtcrossedmymindthat maybetheywerehopingtoberapedaswell. Isawsomemen,stillintheiryouth,withthegrossestbeerbelliesitwaspossible toimagine,cultivatedatgreatexpense,andIwasovercomebythenoisepeople madeandthedifficultytheyhadinshowingeachotheraffection. Then,oneday,IsetouttophotographthethingsIhadnoticed.Notonerevolting beerbellycamemywaynotonegirlwasdressedinsuchtastelessextravagance astobeworthrecording.TomyannoyanceIsawmenandwomenappearingto besoftlyandopenlyappreciativeofeachother.ThetruthboreinonmethatIhad beenseeingonlyextremesinthecrowd:themostflamboyant,themost threatening,themostcrass,justasanAustralianinLondonwouldseeonlyPoms inpinstripedsuitsandbowlerhats. ThevastmajorityofAustralianswerenotlikethat,andyetmyfirstimpressions hadbeencorrecttoo,andIwonderedhowafewexamplesofextremebehaviour couldsostampandcharacterizeawholesociety.Itbecameoneofmymain preoccupations. ForanEnglishman,especiallyonewhocanrememberhowthingswerein EnglandbeforetheFifties,Australiahasadisturbingfamiliarity.Thestreets straggleoutofSydneymuchastheydooutofLondon,andpassthrough namesakesuburbs.Youseestreetfurnitureandmunicipal architecturethathassincebeenreplacedinLondonbysomethingnewerlikeold stylepostofficesandlibraries,andMechanics'Institutes.Orsoitseemedtome, fortheforceofnostalgiaissostrongthatoneoldlamppostcancolouranentire street. OutintheNewSouthWalescountryside,too,thereareglimpsesofoldEngland. Therailwaysystem,seeminglywithallitsveinsandarteriesstillintact,andlocal puffertrainsrunningbetweenmodelstations,isapowerfultimewarper.Irodeup intothecosyBlueMountainspastvillagegreensandorchardsandvinecovered cottages.ThestrangeadmixtureofAboriginalnamesonlyseemedtopointupthe quaintnessoftheEnglishones,WentworthFallsandKatoombaMountVictoria, BellandBilpinKurrajong,RichmondandWindsor. Pastmeadowsandstablesandpondsbutcher'sshopsburstingwiththefinest andcheapestmeatintheworldlanguidpubsmadeglamorouswiththefancy Victorianironworkwhichwe,inEngland,melteddownforscrapinthewar. AtWiseman'sFerryagreat,greenriverrolledbybetweensteepgrassybanks, andacountryhotelfoundedin1815servedacounterlunchforadollarsixty,a platepiledhighwithlambchopsandbrusselssprouts.Itwashot,butnottoohot. Therewereflies,butsofarnottoomany.Thesunputcreasesroundtheeyes andseemedtobericherinultravioletthananyothersunIhadknown,butitwas tolerableanditwas,afterall,midsummer.Ridingthroughitlikethis,viewingitas anoutsider,itwasaruralidyll,farawayfromthetroublesoftheworld. WhenIcamebackontothecoastalhighwaytherewaslesstoadmire.All Australiaseemedtobemovingupthecoastintrailers,andcampsiteswere crowded.AsImovedclosertopeopletheirprejudicesshowedthrough.Theflies grewthickertoo,andIhadtoeatmysteakwithahandkerchiefwavinginmy handtokeepthemfromtotallyobscuringthemeat.Butthegreatgreenrivers

keptrollingdowntothesea,andthebeautifulbeachesstretchedoutforever,and itwasstillthebeststeakintheworld. ThecoastroadnorthofSydneyiscalledthePacificHighwayforsixhundredand fiftymilesuntilitreachesBrisbane.ThenitbecomestheBruceHighway.Another fivehundredmilesnorthisRockhampton,rightontheTropicofCapricorn.I crossedtheTropic(forthesixthtimeonmyjourney)fourdaysbeforeChristmas andheadedonforMackay.SinceBrisbane,thearidsummerofthesouthhad beengivingwayslowlytothetropicalrainyseasonofQueensland.Inthe southerndroughtsthecattlediedofthirst.Inthenorththeydrownedandfloated awayonthefloods.Australiarunstoextremes. AfterMarlborough,theroadtakesalonginlandloopforonehundredandfifty milestoSarina,toavoidfloods.Peoplehadtoldmeluridtalesaboutthispartof theroad.'Youwanttowatchouttheysaid.'There'scriminalsonthelamfrom Sydney.' Onlyafewweeksbefore,amarriedcouplehadbeenmysteriouslymurderedin theircaronthatlonelystretch.Iwasservedthestoryseveraltimeswithrelish. Therewassometimesaghostlyqualityaboutthatland,butitwasnothingtodo withcriminalsorevenghosts.Muchofthelandwascoveredbyalightforestand ahighproportionofthetreeswereacaciascalledBrigalow.Acrossbroadareas ofthelandtheBrigalowwasdead,andthethousandsoftwistedgreytrunks seemedtohaunttheforest.Itwasmurderallrighttheyhadallbeenslainbya poisonedaxetoclearthewayforpasture. ItookonpetrolatMarlboroughandsetoff.Itwasmonotonouscountry,and empty,butnotatallsinister.AftereightymilesIcametoLotusCreek. TherewasnothingmuchtodistinguishLotusCreekfromtheothersmallriversI hadcrossed.Itraninashallowbedcossetedbyreedsandfernsandclumpsof tallGuineaGrass.Severalsmallspeciesofgumtree,BlackButt,Whiteand StringyBarkamongthem,grewalongsideit. Thehighwaydippedgentlytothebridgewhichwassimplymadeofhugesquare cuttrunksofoneofthebiggerspeciesofgumtree,forsomegumsgrowtowell overthreehundredfeet.Thetrunksweresurfacedwithsmallerwoodandtarred over.Thebridgehadnoparapet,butwasmorethanwideenoughforthebiggest trucks.Mostofthesmallerbridgeswerebuiltinthisway. Beyondthebridgeontherightwasaroadhouseandpetrolpump.Ifilledup,on principle,andwentinforacoffee.Itwasasmallrestaurant,neaterandcleaner thanIhadexpected.Behindawellstockedcounterwasadooropentothe kitchen.Themanbehindthecounterwasbusyatsomething.Hewasastocky fellowinaneatlypressedbluebushjacketandmatchingshorts.Heworewoollen socksuptothekneesandacowboyhat. 'Howmuchiscoffee?'Iasked.Ialwaysasked.Australiawasvastlymore expensivethanIhadexpectedandpricesvariedwildlyfromplacetoplace. 'Thirtycents,'saidthemanwithoutlookingup.Therewasanedgetohisvoice though,andahintofmiddleEuropeanaccent.IguessedPolish.Thirtycentswas ahighprice. 'Thirtycents?'pretendingmildastonishment. Thenhedidlookup.Hehadtruculentblueeyes. 'Isthirtycentstoomuch?'hedemanded.Ifitis,I'llmakeitfiftycents.I'mlikethat.' Atouchofpanicassailedme.Therewassomethingfunnygoingon,

andIcouldnotfigureitout.Imadeplacatorynoisesandheletmehaveacupfor thirtycentsafterall. 'I'mupheretomakemoney,that'sall,'hesaid.'Whyelsewouldanyonecome andliveuphereinthiswilderness?Whenyou'restillhereinacoupleofdays you'llbegratefulIdon'tputituptoadollar.' 'Well,it'sverynicehere,'Isaid,'but...' 'Ifyou'rethinkingofgoingbacktoRockhamptonyou'dbettermakeitsoon,before Lotuscomesuptoo,'hesaidwithaslightsneer,andthenthemessagebeganto filterthrough. 'Too?' Thereweretwoothersintherestaurant,amanandateenagegirlatatable.The manhadgotupandwaswalkingover.Hesaid: 'WhenConnorscomesup,Lotusain'tfarbehind.Right,Andy?' 'What'sConnors?'Iasked,thoughIhadguessedbynow.Ijustwantedthemto knowthatIhadn'tknown. 'Youdidn'tknow?ConnorsisthenextcreekalongtoSarina,.tenmilesdownthe road.Ijustcamebackfromthere.She'ssevenfeetoverthebridgeandstillrising. Andtoanticipateyournextquestion,sometimesshe'supforaday,sometimes foraweek,andthere'snotellin' IwaitedtoseeiftherewereanyotherquestionsIhadplannedtoask,butit seemednot.Hiscurlyblondhairwasgreyingandheworesteelrimmed spectacles.Helookedoldforthegirl.Iaskedhimwhathewasdoingthere, nicely. 'I'mbasedinMackay,'hesaid,'butItravelaroundahellofalot.I'mthemost knowledgeablejournalistinAustraliaaboutthetropics.' Betweenthem,Ithought,thesetwofellowscouldrunAustralia.Theyhadthe confidenceforthejob.However,afterabittheybecamequitefriendlyand interesting.Itwasjustthatfirstaggressiveflashthatgotme.LikeanAngloSaxon versionofLatinAmerica.Thecomparisonpleasedme.Also,thecoffeewhenit a camew sverygood. IrodeuptoConnorstohavealookbeforesettlinginfortheweek.Thequeue wasseveralhundredyardsalong,carsandtrucks.Itwasverywarm,withsun strikingdownbetweenthecumulusclouds,andpeoplewereallovertheplacein theirsingletsandsummerfrocks,eatingFastFoodandchuckingtheplastic containersandemptybottlesintothecountryside.Fourtruckieswereplayingan intensegameofpokerinthemiddleoftheroad.Thebridgewasnowheretobe seen,butthetopofthe'GiveWay'signwasstillvisible.Thewaterwasblackand turbulent,andstillrising. IgotbacktoAndy'splacetofindfourbigrefrigeratedtruckshadparkedoutside, theirenginesthrummingawaytokeepthecoolersworking.Thedriverswere alreadypilingupemptybeerbottlesintherestaurant.Therewerefivemen,ajolly redheadedwomanandaboy.Idecidedtogetmystuffunpackedandintothe tentbeforeitstartedtorain,androdethebikeouttothetrailerandcampsitein thefield. Iwalkedbacktotherestauranttofindthatthedrivershadmovedoutsidetosome trestletablesunderawaterproofcanopy.IfeltlikejoiningthemandaskedAndy tosellmesomebeer.IhadagreatknackfortreadingonAndy'stoes.Eitherthat, orhistoeswereapermanentmess.

'Idon'tsellbeer,'hesaidhotly.'Ihaveneversoldbeer.Ihaveappliedfora licenceandyouwillneverfindslygrogsoldonmypremises.' 'Ohwell,Ionlythought...'Isaid,sniffingthefumesthatstillhungaroundthe room,andwentouttositwiththetruckies.Afterfiveminutes,Andycameoutwith abottleofbeerhewantedtogiveme,thesentimentalfool.ButbythenI'dalready finishedoneandbeengivenanother. Twoofthetruckiesweredoingmostofthetalking,andtheywerebothcomedians intheirway.Oneofthemwasabrisktubbyfellowwhotoldconventionaljokes likeaclubcomic.Icouldimaginehimwithaspottedbowtieandamicrophone goingTsay,Isay,Isay,'.ThatwasClive. ThepoetamongthemwasamantheyallcalledFerret.Hewasaslightlybuilt manwithadaftlittleclothhatonhisheadandanexpressionthatmanagedtobe bothsadandhumorousatthesametime,intheCelticmanner.Hewasthe acknowledgedleaderofthetruckiesandwasfamousthroughoutAustraliaforhis verseepic,OdetoaTruckie.Itwasaboutapalwhohaddiedoverturningatruck fullofemptybottlesoutsideGladstone,havingprobablyemptiedagoodfewof thebottleshimself. IlikedFerretimmediately.Hehadawarmmannerandasympatheticwaywith stories.Therealhumourranallthewaythroughthem,betweenthepunchlines, andIthoughtthemveryfunnyandsubtleandnotalittleastonishing.Travelling withFerretwasahandsome,athleticfellowcalled'P.J.'withawistfulmanner.He wasgoingtoseehismotherinSarinaforChristmas.Hehadn'tseenher,hesaid, withaslightgrin,sincetwoandahalfyearsagowhenshewasdyinginhospital. ThefourthtruckiewasachirpylittleTasmaniantheycalledMcCarthy.Hehad rubberlegsandaconcavefaceandplayed'fallguy'whenonewasneeded.He enjoyedtheroleandencouragedit,andhisTshirtshowedahandwithtwo fingersup,meaningPeaceorPissOff,dependingonhowyousawit. Thefifthman'snameIneverknew.Hewashusbandtotheredheadandthey bothmadeanappreciativeaudiencefortheothers.Evenbeforethebeerwarmed themallinadeepamberglow,therewasagreatkinshipandlikingbetween them,aquitetangiblething.Theyweremates,ofcourse,whichisapowerful enoughbond,butitwasmorethanthat.They weretruckies,andinAustraliathatwastantamounttobeinganoutlaw. Ihadheardabouttruckiesfromtheoutside,storiesofrecklessviolenceand villainy.ForrespectableAustralians,truckiesrankedwithdrought,pestilenceand 'criminalsonthelam'asoneofnature'schiefhazards.'Notruckwithatruckie' wastheirmotto,andtheylockeduptheirdaughterswhenthebigrigsrolledin. NowfromtheinsideIsawthattheyhadmanyqualitiesIhadmissedbadlyonmy wayupthecoast,andthemostsurprisingwassensitivity.TheboorishnessthatI hadbeguntoacceptasinevitablewasabsent,andinitsplacewasadelicacyof touchthatseemedlittleshortofamazing.Yet,thinkingitover,itwasnatural. Theywerealllongdistancedrivers,notshorthaulcowboys.Anyonewhospends longhoursalonewithhimselfontheroadhastohavemoreinhisheadthana stockofsterileprejudices. Clive'ssonmaderegularrunstothetruckformorebeer. 'Areyoutruckingbeer?'IaskedClive. 'No,I'vegotgeneralgroceries.He'sgoticecream,'hesaid,pointingatthefifth man. 'McCarthy'sgotprimeVictoriarump,andFerret'sgoingempty.'

Wetalkedandtoldstories.IlearnedabouttheroadsintheinteriorandwhatI heardconvincedmethatImustgiveupmyideaofcrossingtheNorthintherainy season.TheonlywayoutofCairnswouldbethewayIhadcome.Iheardchilling talesofrecklessdrivingovertheroadsofHelltogettothepubintimeoftruckie prideandtheawfulfallsthatfollowed.Thentheboybroughtthebadnews.The beerhadrunout. CarswerestillcominginoverLotusCreek,sowithouthesitationMcCarthywent outtohisbigtruck,wheeleditroundandroaredoffacrossthebridge. Somewhereouttherewasapub,andaslongastherewasapubopenin Australia,theywouldhavebeeratLotusCreekthatnight.Thesunwasfading, blackcloudsloweredallaround.Therewereflashesoflightningofftothenorth east.Thejournalistcameoutlookingworried,andwalkedoverwithan expressionthattriedtolookthreateningbutwasjustabitsilly. 'Haveyouseenmydaughter?'hesaid.WealllookedatMcCarthy'semptyseat andsmiledatanicethought,thoughnoneofusbelievedit.Thejournalistsatin McCarthy'sseatandgazedatthesky. 'She'llbefillinguptonight,'hesaid.'It'srainingoverthecatchmentarea.Wewon't beoutofheretomorrow.'Hewasveryauthoritative,soIhadnowayofknowing whetherheknewwhathewastalkingabout.NordidIreallycare. Andyswitchedonthelightsinthegroundsandthebulbunderthecanopycreated apleasingintimacyinthewarmtropicalevening.Iheardthefrogshonkingdown bytheriver.Lotuswasbeginningtorisenow.Twotourbusescameinandsome cars.McCarthywaslastoverthebridge,withacrateofCastlemain'sXXXX,the beertheyallagreedwasbest,andwithmuchrelieftheysettodrinkingagain. Theplacewasfillingupfastnow,andlookinglikearefugeecamp.The holidaymakersweresleepingintheirbuses,andmadeabigcrushwiththeirvisits tothebathrooms.ThecartravellershadfilledallAndy'sannexedrooms,and otherswerecampedinthefield,butallthisactivityswirledroundthecanopied islandofyellowlightwherethetruckiessatdrinkingandmurmuringwithalowkey energythatseemedinexhaustible.HourslaterIleftthemandsleptthrougha heavyrainstorm. Iwokeuptothesoundofanoldfashionedhurdygurdyplayingoutsidemytent. Themelodyhadbeencodedinasecretcipher,butallthenoteswerethere, creakingandsqueakingrustilytogether.Ilookedoutatwhatlookedlikeaveryfat magpie,waddlingaboutandmakingthischeerfulbutextraordinarymusic. IsawFerretapproachingacrossthefieldwitha'Stubbie'inhishand,hisfeet scarcelybendingthebladesofgrass,hisfacerosyasthedawn. 'Whatisthisamazingbird?'Iasked.Inasteady,sobervoice,hesaiditwas calledaButcherBird,andIaddeditimmediatelytomylistoftopcreatures. 'Comeandhavesomebreakfast,'hesaid.'We'redoingsteak.' ConnorsRiverhadriseninthenighttoequalallpreviousrecordsatthirteenfeet abovethebridge,andMcCarthywascelebratingbybreakingintoafiftypound cartonofrumpsteak. Iwanderedovertoseeaheapoftimberblazinginthebigbarbecuestandand Clivecuttingtherumpintoslicesaninchthick.Therewasnoindicationthatany ofthemhadbeentosleeporwouldeversleepagain.Therefugeesfromthe buseshadcomeoutafteracrampednightintheirseatsandwerehuddledata safedistancegazinginaweandenvyattheterribletruckies.Iwasgivenhalfa

squarefootofthemostdelicioussteakIhadeverhad,orwouldeverhave,anda bottleofbeertostartthedayright. Thetruckieswereascontemptuousofthetouristsasarmymenareofcivilians, andtookprideintheirfearsomereputation,butasmentheyweretookind heartedtoignorethedistressallaroundthem.InAustralia,meateatingisa religion.P.J.andFerretcalledovertothemtocomeandgetitiftheywantedit. Mostofthemshrankbackinhorrorasthoughtheyhadbeenofferedacupof cyanide,butafewboldspiritsriskedcominginforanip,likejackalsrounda campsite. Andycameoutfromhishousestampinghisbootshardinangerashewalked. 'IfIseeyoutakingmoneyforthatmeat,'heshoutedatFerret,'there'llbetrouble. I'mnothavingpeopledoingbusinessonmyproperty.' Hewassofaroutoflineitwasridiculous.Thetruckieslaughedandsworeathim, andhestompedbacktohisovercrowdedrestaurant. 'He'sbetterthantheblokeuptheroad,'saidP.J.philosophically.'Theywere sellingwaterattwentycentsaglasslastflood.' 'Whopaysforthismeat?'Iasked. 'Noworries,'saidClive.'Inasituationlikethis,theyexpectustobreakintothe load.They'rehappyenoughiftherefrigerationequipmentkeepsgoingwhile we'restandinghere. 'Thereshouldbeseveraltonsofstrawberryicecreamrunningovertheroadby nightfall,'headded,jerkingathumbatthefifthman.'Hiscooler'spackedin.' Itwastrue.Themagnitudeofthispotentialdisasterfascinatedme,andmymind waslinkedbytelepathytotheseslowlyliquefyingtonsoffrozengoofortherestof theday,hopingtobetherewhenthefirstpinkdribbleappearedunderthedoors. Wehadsteakforlunchandfortea,andthenwehadsteakforsupper.Itriedto talktosomeofthebuscrowd.Therewasacouplewithasmallboywhoseemed nice,ontheirwaytotheirhomeinTownsville.Theyaskedmetocomeandstay onmywaythrough.Wehadn'tbeentalkinglongbeforetheywantedtotellme aboutthe'Abos'.IhadhadonlyoneencounterwithAboriginesuptothen,ata smalltownonthecoastsouthofBrisbane.Ihadseenacouplestanding barefootedintheshallowwaterofalagoon,fishingwithalinebutnorod.They wereshortdumpyfigures,hewithhistrousersrolledup,sheinacottonfrock.I hadtakenapictureofthemfromthejettyandhehadseenme.Hisreactionwas fierceandbitter. 'I'llfuckin'tossyerinthere,'hescreamed,pointingatthewater.Ithoughtitasad storyandhopedthesepeoplewouldunderstand. 'Youdon'twanttohaveanythingtodowiththem,'thewomansaidfirmly.'Don't youevertrustone.Never.They'llliftanythingoffyou.GoodastheArabs,they are.' 'YouknowPalmIsland?'saidtheman.Ishookmyhead.'It'sanAboreserveoff thecoastuphere.Well,youknowthoseflagonsofcheapwinethatcostadollar fifty?Takeoneoverthereandyoucanflogitforfortyfivedollars.Theygocrazy overgrog.' 'They'renothumanbeingsreallythey'reanotherspeciesofanimal,'saidthe woman.'Theylivewithanimals,don'tthey?Andit'samedicalfactthateverygirl overthreehasbeenmolested.' 'Ifyouhitthemonthehead,'saidtheman,'youcanonlyinjureyourself.But they'retheonlypeoplewithanymoneyinAustralia.'

Itmademesicktolistentoit.Andtheywerereallynicepeople.Severaltimes comingupthecoastIhadheardtheseoutpouringsoffilththatseemedto proceedfromsomedeephurt,likepusfromawound.Iregisteredthefactthatin allthehourswehadspenttogether,notoneofthetruckieshadeveruttereda singlewordofprejudice,andIwasgladtogetbackamongthemassoonasI could. Thejournalist'sdaughtercameandstoodbymeforawhile.Shescreechedalot butshedidn'thaveanythingtosay.Thefrillybodiceofheryellowcottondress heldherbreastsupformyinspection,andthenshedisappearedagain.Ithought shewasadisasterwaitingtohappen. DuringtheafternoonConnorsstarteddropping.Byeveningitlookedpromising.I wasadvisedtobereadytocross,sinceitcouldeasilystarttoriseagain.Ipacked upallmystuffandsleptinthebackofFerret'semptytruck.P.J.spentthenightin thecabwiththelastbottleofbeer.WhenhehadfinisheditIbelievehiseyes closedbriefly.Iwoketofindhimstudyingthecentrespreadofamagazinecalled Overdrive,gazinglustfullyatabigandlusciouscolourpictureofanewMack Truck. SoonafterwardsthefirstcarcamethroughfromMackayandweallgotreadyto go.Thepinkicecreamwassafeafterall.IsaidgoodbyeandrodeofftoConnors. Therewerestillafewinchesofwateroverthebridge,butIwentacrossalright. Furtheralongtheroad,Ferret'sbigtruckstartedhootingatmefrombehind.I slowedandheswungitdeftlyontothevergeinfrontofme. 'SeeyouatthehotelinSarina,Ted,'hesaid.P.J.grinned,andIsaidokay.Ididn't feellikehurrying,andwhenIarrivedtheywerealreadyatthebar.Ferretwas finishingoneofhisshorterstories: Sothisfellowsaid,'WhodidyouseedownthereinSydney,Dave?' 'Well,IwasinthesameroomasBishopLennox.' 'Who'sthatthen?' 'He'sonlytheforemostCatholicinAustralia.He'ssoholyhe'smostprobablygot holywaterinhistoilet.''What'satoilet,Dave?' 'HowshouldIknow.I'mnotabloodyCatholic' Weweredrinkingoutofdaintysevenounceglassesatthecounterinsteadof thosestubbybottles.Itdidn'tseemright,butthefumeswerestrongerinthe enclosedspaceandFerretandP.J.seemedtothriveintheatmosphereas thoughitwerepureoxygen.Oneday,Ithought,theywouldbeleaningagainsta barlikethisandtheywouldjustfadeanddissolveintotheatmosphere.Ihadgot tolikethembothverymuch. IsaidIhadtogo,becauseIdidnotdaredrinkanymore. Ferretlookedhardatmewiththatsadlittlesmileonhisface. 'You'realovelyperson,'hesaid.Tknewstraightaway.Mostpeopledon'tdo anythingforme.TheycanbeniceknowwhatImean?Icanbenicetoo.Butit doesn'tmeananything.' Iknewexactlywhathemeant. 'You'llberight,'saidP.J.cheerfully. Ioftenthoughtaboutthemafterwardsbutwhen,weekslaterbyamilliontoone chance,ImetCliveinapubinVictoria,Ididn'tknowhimatfirst. 'YouknowwhathappenedtoFerret?'hesaidgrinningthewayAustraliansdo whenthere'sbadnews.'HeturnedhistruckoveroutsideSarinathatday.' 'Ishealright?'Iaskedanxiously.

'Oh,yeah,hegotawaywithit.Beersoftenedthefall.' AmanIhadmetinNairobitwoyearsbeforehadgivenmefourelephanthair braceletstodelivertohissister.Thehairwaspulledfromtheelephant'stail,and wassupposedtoconfervirilityonmenandfertilityonwomen.Hissister'shome wasinasmalltownnearCairns,andthisromanticlittlemissiongavemyjourney to'FarNorthQueensland'anicehumanfocus,butbythetimeIarrivedthesister hadlongsinceabandonedherhusbandandtakenherchildrenofftoEngland. Thehusbandwasverykindandsaidthatitwouldprobablynothavemadeany differenceifIhadgotthebraceletstheresooner.Hegavemetwoofthemto keep,buttheyneverdidmuchformeeither. Ilearnedthatitwasstillpossibletogoabitfurthernorth,withthepromiseofa uniquerainforesttoseeatCapeTribulationahundredmilesaway.Thefirst seventymilesweretar.ThencameaferryacrosstheDaintreeRiver,andafter that,dirt.TherealproblemwasCooper'sCreek,whichcrossedthedirtroad.If thecreekwasup,'noway'.Ifthecreekwasdown'noworries'.Wetriedtoget Charlietheferrymanonthephone,buttherewasnoreply.SoIwentanyway. IfoundCharlieleaning,againsttheferryrail,waitingforcustom.Hewasasnub nosed,fairhairedyoungfellowwithawispybeardandasaucylook.Hewas leaningbackataneasyanglebutveryalert,anditwasamomentbeforeI noticedthatoneofhislegswasmissing. Heeyedthemudspatteredbikewithamusement,followingtherouteIhad paintedononeoftheboxes.'How'sCooper's?'Iasked. 'Noidea,'hesaid,offhand.'Haven'thadanyonethroughfromthatside.Shouldbe okay.' AsIrodeofftheothersidehecalled,'Seeyalater.'Heonlysoldreturntickets,he knewIhadtocomebackthatway. Irodeonoverredrocksandmud,lacedwithrivulets,slipperyattimes,butmostly steadygoinginthirdgear.Ifeltavaguethrillofapprehensionthinkingabout Cooper's,andalltheriversIhadalreadycrossed.TheworsthadbeeninBolivia, onthealtiplanobetweenPotosiandLaPaz.Thereweretworiversthere,andI fellinoneofthem,andstoppeddeadinthemiddleoftheother.Itwasvery uncomfortableandmadeaterriblemessofmyarrangements. NowIfordedafewminorcreeksandthencameCooper's.Itwasabouttwenty feetacrosswithabedofpebblesandboulders,andIgotoffthebiketohavea goodlook.Togostraightthroughwasoutofthequestiontherewasatleastthree feetofwaterinthemiddle.Alittlefurtherdownstreamthecreekwidenedand becamemoreshallow.Therightcoursetofollowwasawidehorseshoeshape, swingingdownstreamandthenupagaintheotherside.Thelastbitwouldbethe worst,withtheexhaustpipessubmerged,tryingtofindthepowertoclamberup thebank. Ontheotherhandtherecouldbenorealdisaster,becausesomecampersfrom CairnsturnedupinasmalltrucktogiveahandifImadeamuckofit.They crossedfirstandIwatchedtheirwheelstogaugethedepth.TheninIwent, managingalrightuntilthelastlegwhenIturnedabittoosharplyagainstthe current.Theenginefalteredandstopped,butIhadbothbootsplantedfirmlyon theriverbed.Thecamperswerealreadyintheriver,swimming,andwehauled thebikeashoretogether.Ipouredthewaterfrommyboots,unboltedthepipesto emptythemtoo,andthentookmyturnforaswim.

AtNoah'sCreektherewasaclearingbytheriver,withgardensandthick grasses,andasquaretinroofedhouse.Extravagantbluebutterfliesflickered amongthetrees.Attwilightinsectschantedasthoughthroughamplifiers concealedinthebushes.Aparaffinlampwasset,hissing,ontheveranda,and suddenly,intothiscircleofyellowlightstumbledadangerousanddesperate figure.Hisshirtwassplitfromcollartowaistandtherightsleevewasintatters. Hehadfourdays'worthofdenseblackstubbleonhissweatyface,andacrazy glintinhiseye.Inhisrighthandheswungamachete. Itwastheproprietor,backfromhisdailychores.Hehadbeenhackinghisway, painfully,alongahighridgeatthelimitofhisproperty,lookingfortheblazesthat weremadetomarkhisboundariesin1896.Theforestisacoveredmazeof toweringtreetrunksandtwentyfootferns,knittogetherbymassivetrailinglianas andparasiticgrowthsofallkinds.Amongthepicturesqueobstaclestoprogress throughthisundergrowthwerethe'Waitawhile',withitslongtendrilscarrying fishhookthornsatcloseintervalsinsetsoffour,andtheStingingBush,which hasafuroffineneedlesontheundersideofitsbroadleavesthatbreakoffinthe skinandhurtforamonth. ThatnighttheraindrummedonthetinrooflouderthanIhadeverhearditbefore. InthemorningIvolunteeredtogotoCapeTribulationforsomeprovisions.Itwas alongwalkthroughtheforestalongatrack,with glimpseshereandthereofthegreenocean.Foraysintotheundergrowth producedafruitlikeacobaltblueegg,andanotherpurpleonewithredfleshand threestones.TheCapewasasmall,easygoingcommunitywithalavishly stockedgeneralstorerunbyamiddleagedcoupleandtheirchildrenwhohad 'emigrated'fromSydney.Theyspokeofitasofadifferentcountryanditwastrue thatAustraliadidnotseemtoreachupthisfar.Ihadtheimpressionofitbeing huddleddowntheresomewhereinthesoutheastcornerofthecontinent.The familywerenotonlyhappytobethere,theylookedit.Theywentabouthelping eachotherandbeingopenlywarmandaffectionate.UntilIsawit,Ihadnot realizedhowcrampedandundemonstrativeotherfamilieshadbeen.Thefather waskneadingdoughforthebreadoven.HetoldmethatIremindedhimofa copperontheDrugSquadatCairns.'DrugSquad?'Iasked,takenaback. 'Ohyes,'hesaid.'They'reveryactive.Packetsofheroinarealwaysfloating ashorehere.I'vefoundsomemyself.' LaterIhelpedtoloadasmalloutboarddinghyontothetruckatNoah'sCreek andwenttothecoasttofind,notheroin,butmycrabs.Wefloatedoverthick brownwaterattheedgeofamangroveswampandputdowntwowiretraps. Withinminuteswehadahugeblackcrabwithclawsthatcantakeoffafinger. ThemeatofthemudcrabwasmoredeliciousthananyIhadeatensince childhood.ObviouslyAustraliancoastsandriversofferedanabundanceofgood food,andIstartedtothinkitwastimeIboughtarodandtookupfishing. ThentherainfellheavilyallnightandbymorningitwasclearthatifIwantedto getoutacrossCooper'sforaweekorso,Ihadbetterleavesoon. Ifellonce,gently,inapuddleofredclayonthewayback,butatCooper'sI learnedmylessonandgotthroughwithonlymybootsfull. Charliewasstillleaningagainstthesideofhisferry,hisonelegthrustforward justasI'dlefthim.ThistimewegottalkingandIaskediftherewereany crocodile. 'Sureare,'hesaid.'Usedtobemelivin'.'

Aoneleggedcrocodilehunter?Washeretiredbyonecrocodiletoomany? 'Notabitofit,'hesaid.'Iftheymadeitlegalagain,I'dbeoffinthemorningand noworries.'Course,theywererighttocloseitdown.There'splentyofFreshiesto buildupthepopulationnowthey'reprotected,buttherearen'tenoughSaltiesleft tokeepamaninwages.' FreshandSalt,hesaid,referredtothewatertheycamein. 'Youmightget$20foraFreshie,doubleforaSaltie.IgotoneSaltiethatwas sixteenfoot.Itbrought$240fortheskin,butI'dnevergoafteroneofthoseagain. Itwastoobigtolandintheboat.Wehadtodragitintoshallowwaterandskinit there.Thebloodbroughtshoalsofsmallsharkin,andtheylaceratedourlegs. 'Therewerethreeofusthatusedtoshoottogether.Boththeothersaredead. Onewasmywife'sbrother.Hediedofsepticaemia.Theotheroneturnedoutto beaconvictedrapistwho'dkilledaman.Weonlyfoundoutafterhe'dkilled anothermanandwasshotdeadhimself. 'HappenedoverinBurketown.Beenthere?Favouriteplaceofmine.Therewasa pubandverylittleelse.Thewallsandthefloorwereallatananglefrombeinghit bystorms.Whenitfloodedtheclientshadtorowthemselvestothethunderbox atthebottomoftheyard. 'ThehostwasaYank.Hewasabit"tropo".Hehadperiodsofsanity,thenhe'd becomeviolentinaWildWestway.Usedtopunchhiscustomersacrossthebar andcomedownthestairswithgunsblazing.Theyputhimawayintheend.Then thepubwashitbyawhirlywhirly.' Iaskedhimhowhehadlosthisleg. 'Cancer,'hesaid.'Butitgotmashedupprettybadlyfirst,'headdedlaconically. 'Crocshootingisn'tthatdangerousthough.Theshotistheimportantthing. You'vegotasixinchtarget,quitecloseto.Ifyouknowyourjobyouwon'toften havetoswimforthecorpse.Youdon'tgetricheither.Yougetwagesandahalf. Butyou'redoingwhatyoulikebest.' ThreeweekslaterIrodeintoMelbourneontheDandenongroad,andturnedleft intoSt.Kilda,thenagainleftintoRobertsonStreetandstoppedoutsideNumber One.Dandenongisabigandbusyhighway,andthenextroadwaslikea neighbourhoodhighstreetandRobertsonStreetwasaquietlittlebackwaterof terracedhouses,soitwaslikecomingintoharbour. ThehousewasrentedbyGrahamandCheryl,anAustraliancoupleIhadknown inLondon,andtheyshareditwithDaveandLaurelandasmalldogofuncertain temper.Itookupresidenceinthemeditationroom. Theywereallwithinafewyearsofthirty,andverymodestintheirdemandson life.Theyhardlyeveratemeat,foronething,andtheydrankverylittlealcohol. Theywereallslimandlightanddidnottrytoconceal theiranxietiesundera moundofmuscleintheusualAustralianway. Thegirlssometimesworeanklelengthpeasantskirtsandblouseswithoutbras. GrahamandCherylhadtravelledintheEast,andthemeditationroomhada mandalaandaBuddhaandwasscentedwithjosssticks.Theyactuallyuseditfor meditating.Theirgreatambitionwastobuyfarmlandandtheyhadalreadysaved enoughtostartlookingforgoodoffers.Weusedtositatthekitchentablewith mugsOfteaandhearaboutthemouthwateringacresbeingadvertisedthatweek. Ifoundtheir situationexcitingandenviable,andtheyshedanewandmorehopefullighton Australiaforme.

EveryweekdaymorningfortwoweeksIwenttowork.ItookthetramforSt.Kilda toFlindersRoad,whereIchangedontotheCoburgtramtoSydneyStreet.Iloved MelbourneandIloveditsgreensingledecktrams.GenerallyIavoidedtherush hourssinceIwasmasterofmyowntime,andIsatateaseinthetram,cruising downthecentreofthebroadavenuethatsweepspasttheparkandthebigboys' schoolandtheartgallery,andovertherailwaybridgetoFlindersStreet. FlindersStreetStationwasbuiltintheprewarimageofaLondonterminus,even downtotheframedspacesforadvertisements,andthenewsboysshoutingthe titlesoftheeveningpapersonthecorner.Allaboutwasabustleoftrafficand commerce,withcrowdsofofficeworkers,shoppersandtravellersfromoutof townweavingtheirwayacrosstheintersectingtramlinesunderthepompous facadesofVictorianbankchambersandoffices.ItwasLondonagaininan earlier,lessselfconscioustime,whenbusinessstillmadeitspresencefeltinthe streetandhadnotyetwithdrawnbehindtheplateglassdoorsandanonymous concreteofthemodernEuropeanofficeblock. Theprosperousandthederelictrubbedshouldersonthepavements.Youcould seethattherewerefortunestobemadeandlost,andthepursuitofprofitwas freeofshame.TherewasarichmixtureofcitylifeonthestreetsandIlingered betweentramstoabsorbit.Forallthatitwasbusy,Ineverfeltitwasfrantic exuberant,rather,andnotalittleruthless,whichgaveitaslightwhiffof Dickensiandays.Thescaleofthehousesandstreetsstillallowedhumanbeings theirnaturalplace.AndIwasalwaysconsciousofthegreat,lazyexpanseof Australiabeyondthecity,reminiscentperhapsoftheempirethatoncelaybeyond theCityofLondon. TheCoburgtramtookmeupElizabethStreetandeventuallybroughtmeoutof therectangularheartofMelbournetopassthroughopenparklandforawhile.It skirtedtheuniversityandfinallyplungedintonarrow,noisySydneyRoad,along ribbonofsmallbusinessesthatwoundonandontowardstheprison.OnceIwent outtoseetheprison,andstaredwithmorbidfascinationatitshighwallsandold fashionedAlcatrazlook.ItseemedveryrelevantsomehowtoAustralianlife, whichhasmoreofasnakesandladdersfeelingaboutitthandoeslifeinEng land.Ioftenheardtalkaboutcriminals.Theywerementionedasafactoflife, ratherthanintonesofdismayormoraloutrage.Theywerethere.Iftheygotyou, thenyouwentdown.Iftheyweregot,thentheywentdown. Onweekdaymorningsthough,IjumpedoffatthesecondstopdownSydney Road,orifpossibleatthelightsbeforethat.ThisiswhereFrankMussethashis motorcyclebusiness.Ononesideoftheroadistheshop,wherehepresidesover thestockwithhismournfulwhitefaceandbrownoveralls,unlesshecanescape intohisownlittleworkshophiddenroundtheback.Ontheothersideistherepair shopwheremyTriumphstoodstrippeddownonastand.Iwasoverhaulingit, slowly,atmyleisure.Thebarrelwasbeingrebored.Someoversizepistonswere comingfromEngland.Therewerenewexhaustvalvestogrindwiththecylinder head.Iwasimprovingthesupportingsystemformytankpanniers,rebuildingthe rearwheel,repairingtheoilsealsintheforksanddoingalotofotherlittlethings thatIhadthoughtof. Iwashavingamarvelloustimeinthatshop.Perhapsitisnotsurprisingthatafter allthemovingaboutIshouldrelishspendingafortnightinasteady,unvarying routine,buttherewasmuchmoretoitthanthat.

Itwasnotaprettyshopmaybe,butitwasbigandcool,andtherewasalmost everythingIneeded.Butwhatgaveitthecharacterthatstampeditselfonmeso thatIwouldneverforgetit,wasatransistorradiotunedintoacommercialstation calledTHREEXY.IntwoweeksIbecamehopelesslyaddictedtothisradio station,somethingthathadneverhappenedtomebefore.Theprogrammecould hardlyhavebeenmorerudimentary.Itconsistedofthesametensongsplayed overandoveragain,interspersedbyadvertisements.ThreeyearslaterIhave completelyforgottentheads,butthesongsareclearinmymemory. Atenorscreamed'Whoisthatladyallalone',endingonafalsenote.BobDylan sangabouthiswifeinaPortuguesewar.DavidEssexdid'Holdmetight,don'tlet mego.'TheQueensang'Mama,I'vekilledaman...'RodStewartwasdoing somethingsurrealonMainStreet.Therewasahorriblymawkishsongabout beingmusicandmakingthegirlscry,andtherewerefourorfiveothers. Thecompanywascongenial,Ihadagoodmechanicworkingnearbywho showedmealotofdoggedenthusiasmandhelpedmeoverdifficulties.Butitwas thesongsthatgotme.Theydruggedme.TheradiowasneverswitchedoffandI waslikeacowbeinglulledatmilkingtime.OnceIgotintothatshedinthe morningmydaywascompleteitwasoverbeforeitbeganbecauseIknew nothingcouldbreakthatmoodorchangeit,andIhad'noworries',astheyareso fondofsaying.Obviouslythetreatmentwasrelievingmeofsomekindofburden. IguesseditwasthatIhadsimplyspenttoolongonmyown,thinking.Fortwo weeksIhadmybrainanaesthetized,andIrevelledinit. AtmiddayIwentoutintotheblindingsunshineandwalkedtothepubfora 'counterlunch'.IlearnedtotreatlunchtimebeerwithgreatcautioninAustralia.It wasdrawnbytheounceindeceptivelydaintyglassesatatemperaturethat numbedthethroatanddelayedtheaction. SometimeafterfourintheafternoonIdippedmyhandsinthesoaptin andgotreadytoleavethegreatgreasycanyonforhome.TheQueenfollowed meintothestreetwithalastpoignantwailfromthetransistor'...putmygunup tohishead,pulledthetriggernowhe'sdead,Mama,I'mleavingnow...Itookmy lifeandthrewitallaway...' Backonthetram,hotsun,hotupholstery,watchingthegirlsinthestreet, dreaming,takingthesongoverinmyheadwheretheradioleftoff.Aprimlooking womansitsoppositeme.Byaccident,asIcrossmylegs,myfoottouchesherleg justbelowtheknee.I'msurprisedtoseeanenormousdustyfootprintonher stocking,asthoughamanhadclimbedupunderherskirt.Imurmuranapology butshedrawsherselfupindisdainandpretendsnottohavenoticed.Shecan't seeitandofcourseI'mnotgoingtotellhernow. 'Sillycow,'Ithought,'She'llwalkaroundlikethatfortherestoftheday.Typical.' EverythinginAustraliaseemedtypical.Dejavu.Dreamlike.Couldn'tworkitout. NotatalllikeWhiteSouthAfrica,orRhodesia.NothinglikeAmerica.Igaveup andsettledbackintothedream. OftenatSt.Kilda,onmywayhome,Iwenttotheofflicenceatthebackofa smallpubandboughthalfagallonofAngove'swhitewine,thecheapestofthe nicerones,foraknockdownprice.IwasabadinfluenceatNumberOne RobertsonStreet.Ibroughtalcoholandmeatintothehouseinunprecedented quantities.Icouldnothelpit.Iwasunderaspellandthemagicwasmostintense inthehouseitself.

UntilveryrecentlyallAustralianbuildingsweremade,asfaraspossible,inthe imageoftheirBritishcounterpart.NumberOneRobertsonStreetwastheepitome ofthetrend,justlikeanysuburbansemidetachedvillainLondon,exceptthatit hadonlyonefloorratherthantwo.Theroofwaspitchedandgabledinthesame way,theproportionswereallfamiliar,thewainscotingandpicturerailswere mouldedinthesamepatternandcoveredwiththesamenumberoflayersofthe samethickpaintinthesamecolours.Thesamelinoleumcoveredthesame boards,andinthekitchenthedoorsofthebuiltincupboardswereevenfastened bythesamepiecesofpaintencrustedmetal. Alowbrickwalldividedthepavementfromthelittlefrontgardenwherevarious shrubsstruggledagainsteachother,thoughsomeofthebusheswereabitflorid byconservativeEnglishstandards.Atthebackwasakitchenporchandapotting shed. Atleast,thatishowIsawitin1976,andatleastonceadayIusedtolookatall thisandwonderwhether,somewhereonmywayacrossthePacificOcean,Ihad unwittinglypassedthroughalookingglass. NaturallyIhadexpectedAustraliatobeinfluencedbyEnglishforms.Whatgaveit thepowerofanenchantment,though,wasthefeelingofperiod.ThiswasLondon Suburbiaofthethirtiesnotoftheseventies.ThissamehouseinNewEltham, say,wouldsincehavebeenchangedoutofallrecognitionwithwalltowall carpets,designer'scolours,formicakitchenunits,bathroomimprovementsandall theappurtenancesofMr.andMrs.1970.InRobertsonStreetIhadthevivid impressionofhavingreturnedtoNewElthaminthethirties,andsinceitwasin justsuchahouseinNewElthamthatIdid,infact,spendthefirstfiveyearsofmy life,theeffectonmewashypnotic. Andtomakeanyresistanceimpossible,therewasthesun.AgainstallreasonI remembermychildhoodashavingconducteditselfexclusivelyinhotsunshine.In thethirtiestherewerenowinters.Regardlessofthemeteorologicalrecordsthe sunshoneonNewElthamconstantly,andthoughitmaynothavebeenthe happiestoftimes,inthatrespectitwasaGoldenAge.Picturethenmy astonishment,afterdecadesofdisillusion,atfindingmyselfbackintheimagined worldofmychildhood,bathedinthatsameeternalsun,butwithmetheimportant andtantalizingdifferencethatthistimeitwasMEincharge. Justlikemyfatherinthethirties,Iwalkedoutofthehouseeveryweekday morningthroughtheswinggate,turnedleftdowntheroadandwentofftowork. Onlywherehetookthe8.15toLondonBridge,ItooktheFlindersStreettram fromSt.Kilda. Ifeltagreaturgetospendtherestofmylifethere,lostinthisfantasycometrue. Isankdeeperanddeeperintotheluxuryoftheillusion,whichwaslikeabalmto ancienthurts.Allthepainsofgrowingandbecomingwhichlingeredinmelikethe rheumatictwingesofoldwoundsseemedtobesoothedawayinhotnostalgia.To hellwithalltheagoniesoftheWesternconscience,thegropingsforawareness, thesoulwrenchingeffortstorootoutunworthyprejudices.Tohellwiththe nuclearholocaustandthecomingecologicalcataclysmandsolidaritywiththe victimsoftotalitarianoppression. IwasinAustralia,theLuckyCountry,anditsunofficialmottowas'NoWorries'.A largeinfantilepartofmegraspedatthisheavensentchancetowipethetapes andstartagain.IresentedbitterlyeveryreminderthatIwasnotheretostay,that therewereplanstomake.

Therewereenoughsensitive,intelligentpeopleinMelbournetomakethe prospectofstayingacceptabletomyconsciousadultself.Wehadpleasant eveningsandweekendluncheswhereIpaidlipservicetoproblemsof conscience,buttherewasnoobligationtotakeanenlightenedviewofanything.It wasperfectlyrespectableinAustraliansocietytosay:DownwiththeAbos,Up withtheUranium,OutwiththeBlacks,InwiththeBeer,andsoon.Witwas appreciated,butthemaximumofVulgaritywoulddoaswellandqualifiedas 'Okker',whichisAustralia'srevolutionaryresponsetothetyrannyofthe intelligentsia.SinceAustraliansareequal,bydefinition,apointmaybemadeby quoting Virgilorbypissingonthecarpet.Themaindifferenceisinthecleaningbill. TheenigmathathadbotheredmeinSydneywasbeginningtoresolveitself.If Australiansallowedthemselvestoberepresentedworldwideasanationofbeer soddenboorsandhystericalAmazons,itmustbethroughsheerlackof imagination.Likemostpeopleeverywheretheyspentmostoftheirlivesjust gettingby,buttherewasnocollectivedreamormythologythattoldthemwhatit wastheyweresupposedtobedoing.Inthatrespecttheywerefarbehindthe Aboriginestheyhaddecimatedanddespised. Yetmanysignsindicatedthatthetimemightnotbetoofaraway,when Australianswouldagreeonabetterreasonforlivingthantoeatapoundofbeefa day.Whenthatdaycame,Ithoughtthiswouldbecomeoneoftheworld'sbest placestobe. Thefacesoftheoldmentoldmetherehadbeensomethingoncethatwaslost andcouldbefoundagain. Onahot,quietpavementinAdelaideIsawanoldsundriedgentwearingloose, tobaccobrownclothes,soaccustomedtothebrightnessthathehadtakenonthe colourofhisownshadow,bentandgnarledandresilientasatreeinthedesert andpassinginfrontofhimasmallboy,veryconsciousofhisgrownuplittleboy's trousers,whiletheoldvoicesteepedinlossandyearning,said:'G'daymate.' Thegreetingwasaimedatthelittleboy(whoappearednottohearit),butit seemedtoencompasstheuniverseanditcrackedmyheart. ThereisasillysentimentaldreamaliveinAustralia,apotbelliedhouseholder's dreamofsecurityandSundaylunch,butitisrootedinsomethingelsemucholder andsadderandmorepowerful.Sometimestheoldmenseemedtoknowwhatit was. IrodethecoastroadfromMelbournethroughGeelongtowardsAdelaide.Atone pointIwentinlandtowardsHamiltonandspentafewdaysonasheepstation visitingtheparentsoftheAustralianIhadmetinEcuador.Ididalittleworkand boughtafishingrod,andintheGlenelgriverIcaughtmyfirstfish:someredfin andasalmontroutthatfilledmewithpride. Theforemantookmetotheshearingshedandshowedmehowtokilland slaughterasheep,impressingmewithhisspeedandprecision.Allthose thousandsofacresweremaintainedbyfourpeople,father,mother,sonand foreman,butteamsofmencameinatcrucialtimestodotheshearing,drenching, dippingandagruesomeoperationcalledmulesingwhichinvolvedpeelingthe skinawayunderthetailsoflambs. Intheshed,whereeveryinchofwoodhadbeenpolishedbycontactwithhands andsheep,itwaseasytoimagineallthatfuriouslabouramidstariverofwool, butmostofthetimethebroadpaddocksandtheirgreatshadygumtrees

slumberedpeacefully,andtheonlysoundsweremadebyflocksofparrots scoldingeachotherinthetrees. Goingwestitwasgettingdrier.InVictoriaState,fourteeninchesofrainayear,in SouthAustraliasevenorless.Sheepgavewaytograin.Biggumstosmaller ones.AroundAdelaide,highgroundandawesternfacingcoasttrappedmore moistureandtherewasabriefgreening,perfectforthegrapesofMaclarenVale andtheBarossaValley,butbeyondAdelaidetheariditygrippedhard,dryingout thenostrils,grittingupmychain,burningeverythingthecolouroftobacco. Allthewaythecoastwasspectacular,empty,endlesslyinviting.Idawdledalong fromPortAugustatocatchwhitingatLuckyBayandTommyRuffsatPortNeill, togococklinginacoveatCoffinBay,andmeetthepelicansatVenusBay.The landdriedfurtheron,thesettlementsthinnedandbythetimeIgottoCedunaI couldguessatthethousandmilesofwaterlesswastethatlaybeyond:the NullarborPlainwhichdividedtheWestfromtheEast. TheCrossingoftheNullarborwasalegendthatdiedhard.Peoplehadbeen tryingtofrightenmewithitformonths. 'Watchoutforthebulldust,mate!' 'Thewhat?' 'Thebulldust.It'safinepowderthatfillsthepotholes.Youcan'tseethemuntil you'reinthem. 'Andthe'roos.Theycomeleapingacrosstheroadindroves.Youdon'twanttohit akangaroo,mate.They'realotbiggerthanyou.' IthoughtoftheaggressiveyoungsalesmanwhohadentertainedmeinAdelaide inoneofthosebig,hermeticallysealedlunchclubsthatbusinessmenpatronize there.Thewallswerelinedwithfruitmachines,andmenstoodwiththeirbacksto theroomplayingtwomachinesatoncetosavetime.Myhostwascrammedinto afashionablesuitwithyardsofsuperfluousmaterialatthecuffsandlapels,and despitetheairconditioningheglistenedwiththesweatofgoodliving.Helistened tomyplans,anddeclaredwithominousfinality: 'YoucanperishinAustralia.' Australiansincitieslovetoshudderatthemercilesshostilityoftheircontinent.I wonderedwhetheritwasasortofapologyforbetrayingthenationalideal,an excusefornotbeingouttheredigging. Truthtotell,theNullarbormayhavebeenroughonce,butnowtheroadissealed andtarredallthewayfromMelbournetoPerth.Iwasprivilegedtoridethelast twohundredmilesofdirtbeforethenewsectionwasopened,andtheywereno morethanordinarilyawful. ButtheNullarboritselfisabeautiful,mysteriousland.Aspryoldgentcalled Gurneyshowedmeoneofitssecrets.Helivedhalfwayalongthe dirtstretchinaramshacklebungalow,withawife,apetrolpump,someemus,a wombatandothermorefamiliaranimals.Hesaidheownedelevenhundred squaremilesofSouthAustralia,butitdidhimnogoodbecausetheonlydrinkable wateronthewholepropertycameoutofacaveamilefromhishouse. ItwasthecaveIwantedtosee,andhedidn'tusuallyallowvisitors'notsince thosethreeblokeswithguns.Theyweresittingdowntherefiringriflesattheroof. Maddrunkorsomething.' TheNullarborisextremelyflat,soyougetintothecavebyclamberingdowna crater.Miraculously,atthebottomofthecrateramongrocksandboulders, Burneyhadanorchard,theonlyplacewherefruittreescouldsurvivetheheat.

Thecaveisaseriesofgreatcaverns,andanimportantexperienceforitsuggests thatthewholeplainmustbelargelyhollow.Indeedthere'satheoryorfancy thattheSouthernOceanflowsbysubterraneanpassagestotheinteriorof Australia.Atanyrate,thehollownessseemedmostsignificantthere,because youcanfeeltheearthreverberatewhenyoustamponit,becauseemuscallto eachotherbyinflatingbladdersundertheircroupsandmakinganoiselikethe undergroundechoofasteeldrum,andbecausehollownessisasignofgreat age.Sointhenight,halfasleepontheground,listeningtotheemusdrumming andtheclankofdistantgoatbellsandnotknowingwhattheywere,IthoughtI washearingthesoundofagreattribalcelebrationdriftingacrosstheplain. IftheNullarborwasnotanordeal,itwasperhapsalaststraw.Bouncingoverit wastoomuchforthespokesoftherearwheelafteralltheyhadbeenthroughin twoandahalfyears.Ihadbeenwarned.InMelbourneandagaininAdelaideI hadreplacedbrokenspokes,andeverytimeIstoppedforthedayIchecked them. AtEucla,wherethedirtendedandthehighwaybegan,theywerestillinorder. Thesmoothtarenticedmetogreaterspeed.Afterfivehundredmiles,justbefore Norseman,Inoticedagrowingvibrationthroughthesteeringhead.Istoppedin theabsolutenickoftime.Onlyfourofthetwentyspokesononesideofthewheel wereleft,andtherimwasaterribletwistedshape.Afewsecondsmoreandit wouldcertainlyhavecollapsed.Ishudderedtothinkofthemangledmessthat wouldhaveleft. Asitwas,Ispentoneofthenastiesthoursofthejourneyrebuildingthewheelina twilightplaguedbysquadronsofviciousmosquitoes. ThefollowingnightIwaswithinreachofPerthandsawthewholewesternskylit uplikemoltenlava,withwhitelightningandblackraintracingfantasticpatterns overit.IarrivedinAustralia'sWindyCityonthefirstdayofthewinterrains,and fourdayslaterwhenIsailedforSingapore,itwasstillpouringandblowingas thoughitwouldneverstop. ThemostnaturalwaytoleaveAustraliawouldhavebeenfromDarwin,inashort hopacrosstheTimorSeaandthenuptheislandsofIndonesiatoBali.Myhopes weredashedinMelbourne. Timorwasatwar.Darwinwasstillinruinsfromthecyclonethatdestroyeditin '77.TherewasnoknownshippingoutofDarwinatall.Togothatfarontheoff chanceseemedoutofthequestion. EvenfromPerththeonlyescapewasbycruiseshiptoSingapore.Itwas outrageouslyexpensiveaswellasbeingheavilybooked.Itwouldhavebeen cheapertoshipthebikeandflymyself,butIwouldnotletthebiketravel unaccompanied.Andthebookingsmadeitimpossibletodelaythedecision. Iravedandcursed.Indonesiahadtantalizedmeforsolong.Thethoughtof payingsomuchmoneytosailrightpastitrankledinme.Thewholethingwas cockeyed.Icouldnotridmyselfofthefeelingthatsomethinghadgoneseriously wrong,butintheendIhadtoacceptit andputdownmyfourhundredAmericandollars.Sailingdatewas15April. IhadcomemostofthewaythroughAustraliawithmydreamofCaliforniaintact, thinkingofCarolandtheranch,anticipatingthelifeIwouldbeginwhenthe journeywasover.AsIsailedforSingaporeIfeltthatdreamslippingaway.Time passed.Distanceincreased.Thepressureofeverydayexperiencespiledup

relentlessly,andIfoundmyconcentrationonpastandfutureeventswas interferingwiththepresent. IbegantoseemycommitmenttoCaliforniaasanobstacletoTheJourney,andI realizedIwouldhavetofreemyselfofit,justasIhadhadtofreemyselfofmy earliercommitmenttoEurope.TheJourneywasoncemoremakingitsravenous demandsonme.IfeltasthoughIhadenteredapriesthood. Thesethoughtswerealwaysmostintensewhenmymoralewaslow,andthe voyagetoSingaporedidnothelp.Itwasadisaster.TheshipwascalledtheKota Bali,butitwasnotgoingtoBaliandtheotherhalfofthenameremindedmeof sanitarytowels.IfoundmyselfwithashiploadofAustralianprimitivesgoadedby afussy,waspishWelshcaptainandministeredtobyanunctuousChinesecrew. Thewomenchangedtheirfrocksfourtimesaday,whilethemenpouredtheir holidayfundsintothefruitmachinesandoverthebarcounter.Haditnotbeenfor thebeerfumesthickeningintheairandlendingsomesupport,theywouldhave allfallendown.Therewasbettercompanyonthelowerdeckwhereseveral hundredsheepwereherdedinpens,boundforMoslemslaughterhouses. TodramatizemydisappointmentImanagedtocatchavirusandarrivedin Singaporeinfeverishcoldsweats.Istruggledthroughtheformalitiesatthedocks andtheshippingofficefeelingworseandworse,anditwasperhapsnowonder thatIformedapoorimpressionofSingapore.Itstruckmeasacrowded metropolisentirelydevotedtobusinessandmoneyandwithnoheartatall. Thestreetswerefillednightanddaywithatorrentoftrafficandonlythemost expensivehotelscouldputtheirguestsoutofearshotofthenoise.OnBencoolen Street,whereIstayed,thepavementswerefactoryspaceforallthecarpenters, mechanics,andotherassortedartisanswhospilledoutoftheirlockupshops. Theriverswerecloggedwithfilth,andthehugestormdrainsthatranintothem downeachsideofthestreetwerealivewithrats. Yet,eventhroughmyfever,Ifoundallthestartlingvarietyanddetailveryexciting afterthebarrennessofAustralianlife,andknewthatwhenthecultureshockhad subsidedIwouldenjoyit. Meanwhile,inmydeliriumIdecidedthatIwascarryingtoomuchstuffonthebike andplannedtosendaparcelhome.AmongthethingsIthoughtIwouldnever usewasasparestatorforthealternator,aheavyluxuryinspareparts.Imadeup mypackage,wrappedandtiedandsealedasthelawdemanded,andsentitoff toEnglandbeforesettingoffuptheMalaysianPeninsula. ItwasfromRingitintheCameronHighlandsthatIwrotetoCaroltotellherthat TheJourneywastakingmeoverandthatIwouldnotbeabletokeepallmy promises. Itwastenmilesfurtheralongtheroadthatthebikestopped.Ittookonlyalittle timetodiscoverthatthestatorcoilshadburnedout.Iroaredwithhysterical laughter,butthoughtitfarfromfunny.Itfeltfartoomuchlikeswiftretributionto beajoke. ThemaptoldmeIwasonlyonehundredandeightymilesfromPenang,whereI plannedtostayawhileanyhow.Thefirstthirtymilesofthatwereanonstop descenttothemainhighwayfromKualaLumpur.Theycouldbedone,if necessary,withoutrunningtheengineatall.Ifiguredthatanovernightchargein thebatterywouldgetmetoPenang,andasIwasstillluckyenoughtohavecome toastopjustoutsideavillage,Ifoundasmallrepairshopwithabatterycharger.

Thenightwasnotwasted.IspentitminglingwiththecrowdataChinesefuneral ceremony,attractedtoitbythesoundofdrumsandgongs.Isawacoffin, massivelyconstructedfrombeautifulwoods,supportedinsidearoomsothatit soaredintotheairliketheprowofavessel.Beneathitprofessionalmourners chantedandplayedstrangemusiconevenstrangerinstruments.Filial delegationsmaderitualobeisances.Someworesackclothhatsboundwithstraw rope.Othershadwhiteheadbands,redtabssewntotheirsleevesandcarried bamboobranchestrailingpaperstreamers. Thenoiseontheverandaofthehousewascontinuousand,asIlearned,was deliberatelyencouragedsothatthedeceasedancestorwouldknowhehadgood company.Peopleateanddrank,playedcardsandmahjong,shoutedand laughedandbangedhappilyondrumsputthereforthepurpose.Irolledoffa flourishmyself,tohelpthemalong,fortheyplannedtokeepitgoingnonstopfor fourdaysandnights. MyplantogettoPenangworkedwell.TheLucascompany,whichhasbranches everywhereintheworld,arrangedforthestatortobeflownfromEngland,and thoughmyearswereburningandIstillfeltshakyinside,Isettleddowntomake thebestofabadjob... WhatIhadalreadyseenofMalaysiaappealedtome.Ilikedthegraciouswooden housessetbackfromtheroadsingrassyclearingswithdecoratedshutters, windowframes,verandarailsandeaves.Thestaircasesthatwidenedtowards thelowerstepsseemedtowelcomevisitorswithanembrace.Alwaystherewere tallgreentreestoprovideshelterfromthesun. ThevarietyoffruitsrivalledBrazil.ManyIknew,manyIdidnot.Mangostinand durianbothtookmebysurprise.Thedurianwasaspecialchallenge,withits pungentodour.ItishighlyprizedinMalaysia,butithasalsobeencomparedwith 'Frenchcustardpassedthroughdrains'.Therewasfruittosuitanytaste. Inthestreets,foodstallssoldfoodofallkinds.Theycarriedpineapplessculpted intowonderfulspiralshapes,slicesofmango,ginger,papayaonsliversof bamboo,shinymanglestocrushthejuicefromsugarcane,andmobileChinese kitchenswithcompactandversatilecharcoalstoves,wherewizardsofthewok conjureduplimitlessarraysofrice,noodleandsoupdisheswhichwentstreaming outtopurchasersupanddownthestreet. Itwasamanualcivilization,everythingguaranteedtouchedbyhand,buthighly sophisticatedandapowerfulantidotetoWesternhygiene. Penangisapolyglotplace,butthemainingredientsareMalay,Chineseand Indian.InthecitymostoftheMalaysIsawwerepedallingtrishawsandusually sawmefirst,shouting,'HeyJohnny,youwantsmack?'meaningheroin,not punishment.TheIndianstoowerealsooftenpedalling,butonancientbicycles withlargeglasscasesmountedbehindthesaddlecontainingbreadandbuns. Sometimesafleetofthemwouldpassatonetime,allringingbellsortapping piecesofmetal. ButforallthatthereisnodoubtthatthelifeofPenangisChinese,perhapseven moretraditionallyChinesethanChinaitself. Iwaswellplacedtostudyit.FrommyroomonthesecondflooroftheChoong TheanHotel,inRopeWalk,Ilookeddownonashopwherefivegenerationsof thesamefamilyhadbeenengagedinthemanagementofChinesefuneralsand celebrations.Everyeveningalmost,onscootersandbicycles,theywereoffto somepartofthetowntoerecttheirstagesandscreens,toplaytheirinstruments,

performtheirswordswallowingandfirebreathingacts,tochantandwailintheir blackgowns.Duringthedaytheymanufacturedorsubcontractedallthe ephemerathatwassold. Nextdoortothehotelwasashopwherepalatialmansionswerebuiltofpaper andsplitbamboo,resplendentwiththegoodlife.Theyhadterraces,balconies, elaborateporchesingiltandscarlet,televisioninthesittingroom,acarinthe garage,everythinganancestormightneedtotakehiscorrectplaceinthe hereafter,andalltobeconsumedbyflamesothatitmightfollowhisspiritacross thewater. Inanothershopincensesticksweremade,someofthemthreeorfourfeethigh andthickasaman'sthigh,entwinedwithdragons.Attheotherendofthisshort streetwasahallwhere,oncertainnights,KungFuwastaughtorthe'Liondance' rehearsed. Theshopsthemselveswereimpenetrabletotheeye,socrammedweretheywith diversobjects,socrowdedwithpeopleandfurnitureandsomysteriouslylitby shrinesandcandles.Atnightbedscameoutonthepavementinfrontoftheshop andthosewhodidn'tfitinsidesleptout.Atmealtimes,aspacewasclearedonthe counterorworktable,aclothwasspreadandtheshopwasturnedintoa restaurant.Generationslived,ate,workedandsleptintheseconfinedspaces, absorbedbythemicroscopicdetailoftheirworlds.Theirenergyanddedication appearedtometobephenomenalandmoreforeignthananythingIhadyet seen.Thereweretimes,whenIsawthemflickingriceintotheirmouthswiththat peculiarlyfrenziedmotionofthechopsticks,thatIthoughtIdetectedakindof madness.Whychoosetheslowestwayofeating,andthenbecomeso painstakinglyproficientatdoingitquickly? AttheTempleofHeavenlyMercyIwatchedthemparktheirmotorcyclesand rush,withtheircandycolouredmetalflakehelmetsstillontheirheads,tothe countersinsidethetemplewheretheincensesticksandbundlesofpapermoney weresold.Thetemplewasfullofacridsmokefromtheburningpaper,andthey racedthroughtheirceremonies,eyesstreaming,desperatetogetoutsideagain withtheirsmoulderingofferingsandflingthemintothebigironincineratorsthat stoodwaitingonthepavement.Iftherewasasinglethoughtofanancestorinany ofthem,itwasinscrutablyhiddenbehindexpressionsofirritationandimpatience. Iwasstillnotfunctioningwellphysically.Thedayswerehotandhumid.Iwas drinkingtoomuchcoldfizzystuff,andcouldnotgetmyselfreallyexcitedabout doinganything.Iworkedatoddjobsonthebike,andoneday,withthebattery charged,ItookitroundtheislandthinkingIwouldgofishing. Ithadrainedheavily,theskywasclearerandtheairdrierthanusual.Itwas wonderfultoberidingforpleasureagain,onanunloadedbike.Ipassedover smallmountains,forestedandpopulatedbymonkeysandbrilliantbirds.The villageswerequietandunspoiledandnobodytriedtosellmeheroin.Iwatched whatlookedlikeaChinesepantomime.Onlythestagewascovered.The audience,childrenandadults,wasspreadaroundasmallareaofgrass,andI wasabletoseeitfromthecoffeehouseacrosstheroad.Anextraordinary womanappearedonthestagedressedlikeaVictorianhuntressinbloomersand carryingabow.Sheshotanarrowintheair.Itwentaboutayardandfelltothe boards,andaclothgoosecametumblingdownfromtheceiling.Everybodywas delighted,myselfincluded.

InlateafternoonIfoundaquietspotontheshore,beyondafishingvillagewhere somemenwereburningthepaintofftheirboatwithbundlesofflaminggrass.I caughtnothing,butbecameimpatientforsuccess.Thateveningintown,well afterdark,IrememberedthatpeopleusuallywentfishingofftheEsplanadeat nightandItookmyrodtherewithmyhighlycorruptprawnbait. Itwasstillverycrowdedalongthepromenadefacingthepark.Brightlylitstalls sellingfruit,soup,noodlesanddrinksmadeanalmostuninterruptedlinealong thekerb,andChinesecouplessatshouldertoshoulderalongtheseawallsipping dayglodrinksfromplasticbags.InMalaysiatechnologyseemstoboildownto threethingsplasticbags,fluorescenttubesandtwostrokemotorcycles.Thesea bedaroundPenangisalreadylinedwithplastic,andformyfirsttwocatchesI broughtintwobagsfullofseawater. Shortlybeforemidnightthecrowdsthinnedout,thestallswerewheeledoff,and onlydedicatedfishermenwereleftoneithersideofme.Iwasveryinexperienced andhadnorealhopeofcatchinganything,butforamomentwhenIfeltthetug onthelineIdidthinkIhadabigfish.ThenIsawitwasabranchofapalm.My linewasaverystrongone,boughtinAustraliaforaquitedifferentpurpose,andI wasabletodragthebranchintothestripofsixfeetbelowmeundertheseawall. ThenIhadthesillyideathatIcouldhoistitupanddisentanglemyline.Ihada leadsinkerontheline,mylastone,andIwantedtosaveit.Ileanedoverthe wall,strainingwithallmymight,andsomethinghitmevery,veryhardintheright eye. Iclappedmyhandovermyeyeandgavesometokengasps,waitingforthepain toengulfme.Nosuchthinghappened.Firsttherewasastunningshock.Thena waveofnauseaasIrealizedwhatIhaddone.Thehookhadbrokenaway, obviously,andthesinker,catapultedbyathirtypoundlineunderbreakingstrain hadscoredadirecthitonmyeyeball.Likeabulletinagrape,Ithought.Even whileshudderingwiththehorrorofit,Iwasawarethatthefishermanalongside mewasquiteunperturbed.Idancedaboutabittodramatizemyinjury,tono effect.Idaredtoexplorewithmyfinger,dreadingwhatImightfeel,butthe eyeballdidatleastseemtobeaball.ExperimentallyIopenedmyeyelid.Pitch blacknessassailedme.Itjustseemedimpossiblethataneyecouldsurvivesuch aninjury.IgavesomethoughttothekindofeyepatchIwouldwear,andto whetheritwaspossibletorideamotorcyclesuccessfullywithoneeye. Isaidtothefisherman:Thavebeenhitintheeye.' 'Youwantmetogatheryourthingsah?'hereplied,unmoved. Bewilderedbyhispriorities,Ideclinedtheoffer,gotmyownthingstogetherwith onehand(Icouldnot,forsomereason,takemyhandawayfrommyeye)andleft himmybait.ThenIwanderedoffdowntheesplanade,anditcametomethatI shouldreallydosomethingaboutit.Allthetimealittlevoicewastellingme:'You areblindinoneeye',andIfeltabitunsteady. TwopolicemenstoodbytheTownHall. Ihavehadanaccident,'Isaid.'Isthereahospital?' Theydidn'tspeakmuchEnglish. 'Gotobigpolicestationsaidone,pointingacrosstheparkintothedarkness. 'No.No.HospitalIsaid.BynowIknewthat'swhatIhadtodo. 'Nocarsaidone,'butHa!heretrishaw.' ThetrishawstoppedandIsaid:'Tothehospitalhowmuch?' 'Threedollar,okay,'hesaid.

'Dollarfiftyokay,'Isaid,andoffwewent. ThehistoryofPenangisallboundupwithBritishnavalhistory.Isatinthelittle woodencabbetweenthetwofrontwheelswhilethetrishawdriverpedalled behindme,andintheprowofoursmallcraft,withmyhandovermyeye,I imaginedmyselftobeNelsonaswesailedthroughthenight.Abrilliantly uniformedpolicemanonaflashingMotoguzzitriedtogetustomakewayforthe PrimeMinisterofKedahStatewhowasleavinganornatemansioninhis limousine,butIpointedaheadimperiouslyandcried:'Hospital!'Hefellback demoralized,andwesweptpast,rakinghimwithabroadside. Atthehospitaltheyputmeinfunnywhitepyjamas,tapedgauzepadsoverboth myeyes,andtoldmetohopeforthebestandaboveallnottomoveamuscle. Ispentaweekintotaldarkness,beingmanipulatedformyowngoodandhating it,discoveringcupsofcoldteaonmylockerhoursaftertheyhadbeenputthere, andlearningabouttheotherproblemsblindpeoplehavewiththerestofus.I spentmuchtimecontemplatingthepaththathadledmetothatbed.Icouldnot avoidthefeelingthatIwastherebecauseIhadlostmygriponmysituationand purposethatIwasadrifthereinPenangasIhadbeeneversinceIhadallowed thejourneytochangefocusinCalifornia. Thedegenerationfollowed,itseemed,whenIgaveawaycontrol,believingthe seductiveCaliforniannotionthatonlygoodthingshappenwhenyouletitallhang out.Maybetherewasanothertriptobemadethatway,butminewasnotopen endedlikethat.Ithadtobeconceivedandexecutedandcompleted.The instructionshadtobeuncompromisinglyclearandtheyhadtoberegeneratedat everystep,otherwisewhatcouldIexpectbutadrifttowardsdecayandchaos. ThebikeitselfwasamodelfortheideaIwasstrivingtowards.Onlyacontinual desiretoimproveitsperformance,tomakethesystemsmoreandmoreefficient andtroublefree,wouldkeepitgoingtotheend.Therewasnosteadystate.As soonasIlostinterest,becametiredofit,thebikebegantofallapart.Iwouldstart losingthings,awrench,apairofgoggles,ausefulpieceofrope.Orsomething wouldcomeunscrewedandfalloffbeforeIhadnoticedit,andIwouldhavetodo somemakeshiftrepair.Then,torealizethatmypocketuniversewasrunning downandfraying attheedgesbecauseofmyownlaziness,madeithardertofindtheextraenergy andenthusiasmtopullitalltogetheragain.Alazymistakesapsconfidenceand leadstothenextmistake.IwasinhospitalinPenangbecauseIhadmisjudged mystrengthinCalifornia,orsoitseemedtomethen. Thechainofcauseandeffecthadnotyetrunitscourse.Afewdayslater someonecameintothiswardfullofsightlesspeopleandstolemywalletfrommy bedsidelocker.WhenIknewithadhappened,itwasasthoughthelastsupport hadbeenkickedoutfrom underme.Thetwopassports,thepapers,thewallet itselfwereprecious.Thebulkofthemoney,thankheavens,wasintraveller's cheques.Buttheaddressbooks...Ifeltasthoughthewholejourneyhadbeen stolenfrommeandIwasindespair. Icameoutafterninedayswithmysightonlyslightlyimpairedandacrazydwarf swingingalanterninthecornerofmyrighteye.Iwasgratefultohaveaneyeat all.IspentalotoftimeatthecoffeehouseoppositetheKungFuHall,dredging mymemoryforthenamesandaddressesIhadlost.Thosewerethebitterest moments.Icouldhaveforgiventhethiefeverythingbutthat.

Abeautifulgirllivedandworkedthere.ShehadthemostdeliciousChinese rosebudmouth.Inthemorning,whenIwentthereforasteamedcake,shecame downinapinknightgownwiththesleepstillinheralmondeyes.Iwantedto believeshewastheproprietor'ssister,butshewasprobablyhiswife.Inany eventshehadnointerestinme,andIhadtosatisfymyselfwithlookingather whenIcould. Iwasresignedtotwoweeksofoutpatienttreatmentbeforeitwassafeformeto travelon,andIsadlyabandonedmyplanstocrossovertoSumatra.Therewould betimeforashortexcursionintoThailand,andnomore. TheBritishEmbassyinKualaLumpurrefusedtosendmeanewpassport,even thoughtherewasaconsulinPenangwhohadcheckedmeout.Theyinsisted thatIdrivethefivehundredmilestoKualaLumpurandback,adirtyand expensiverideonthemainhighway,buttheydidnotevenlookatmewhenIgot there.ItwasthekindoftreatmentIalwaysheardtouristscomplainabout.Iwas unusedtoit,anditemphasizedmysenseofhavinglostmystatus.Alloverthe worldtouristshadtheirpassportsrippedoff.Ineverybankthereweretourists claimingrefundsonstolentraveller'scheques.Itwasnevergoingtohappento mebutnowIwasjustanothertouristafterall.Ihadlostmyimmunity,andithurt. WhenthestatorarrivedfromEnglandwithanewrearwheelaswell,myspirits liftedalittle.Thechequeswerereplacedwithoutdifficulty.Ihadanothercholera shotandasmallpoxscratchtogetthenecessarycertificate.Iboughtsome leatherandsewedanewwallettoreplacetheoldone. TheowneroftheChoongTheanhotelspokenoEnglish,butwasverykindand showedrealconcernformeandforthesafetyofmythingswhileIwasinthe hospital.WhenIreturnedhemadesureIhadthesameroom,andheoftenasked me,bygestures,tocomeandeatwithhimandhisstaffintheback. Hewasnotanoldmanbuthisfacewasbatteredandimpressive.Itwasdifficult forhimtoexpresshisfeelingswithit.Hewalkedaroundalldayinpyjama trousers,sometimeswithasinglet,sometimeswithout,andscarcelyeverleftthe hotel.Therewasmuchtokeepaneyeonthere.SeveralIndianprostitutes workedinhisfrontroomlookingoutonthestreet,comfortablematronlyladies withgoldteeth,mostofthem.Theydidnothavetosolicit,fortheyhadregular Hindugentlemenwhocalled,atalltimesofday,usuallywithbriefcasesunder theirarms.Aroomwassetasideforthemattheback,andtheypaidadollar twentypercustomertothehouse.Thentherewasthenightlymahjonggamein thekitchenbelowthehotelstairs.Thisappearedtobehiredoutonafranchiseto amanwhoalsoatewithus.Hebusiedhimselfpreparingthetablewithitsthick padofcleanwhitepapersheets,andwastheretotearoffthetopsheetafter eachgame.Itisanoisygame,playedveryfastandforahighstake.Theclatter ofthetilesandshoutsofPongandKongwentonintotheearlyhoursandIwas gladmyroomwasalongwayaway. TherewasanoldmanworkingfortheownerwhospokeEnglish,thoughhewas literallytonguetied.Hetoldmethathecouldhavebeenapoliceinspectorifhe hadhadanoperation'tocutthestring,'buthewastoofrightened.Whenhewas notdozinginhischair,heaskedmequestionsabouttravellingandhowmuch thingscostinFrance.Althoughhewasalmostdestitute,hebegantoformthe ideathathisluckwouldchangeandhewouldbeabletotraveltheworldandvisit meinFrance.

'ButIwouldnotbeabletogoasyou.Whenyouaregoingthroughthejungleand meetingdangerousanimalsIwillnotbeabletorunaway,soitwillcostmefifty thousanddollarstogoaroundtheworld.'Notnearly,orabout,fiftythousand dollars,buttheprecisesum,andhewouldofcourseputitallstraightinto 'travellingcheques'. INDIA Indiareceivedmewell.Isattheresmilingbackatmyowngoodfortune.AtbestI hadhopedtobereceivedbyfriendsoffriends,buthereIhadthefriendhimself. QuitebychanceIhadcomeduringthetwoweeksthathewasvisitinghisfather, andsoIhadbeenabletoarriveoutofthecrushandconfusionoftheMadras Dockstoaquietplaceamongfriends. Isatonabenchinthegardenclosetothedoorofthehouse.Therewasanarea ofcrazypavingand,risingfromthemiddleofit,abigmaturetreewithfineleaves calledtheNeemtree.Myfriend'sfather,aretiredcolonel,toldmeitwassacred andIdidnotdoubthim.Initlivedsmallsquirrels,chocolatebrownwithlight yellowstripesalongtheirbackswhere,itwassaid,thefingersofBrahmahad caressedthem.Oneofthemcamedowntothepavinginfrontofmetoseewhat elsethehandofGodmighthaveprovided. Nearthetreewasastonepedestalandonitstoodapotwithasacredplant directlyfacingthedoor.Ontheflagstoneoutsidethedoorwaschalkedadesign whichwasalsosacred.Itwasrenewedeverymorningbythehousekeeper,and therewereseveralpatternsshecouldchoosefrom.Theywerequitecomplexand weredrawninacontinuouslineroundrowsofdotswithswiftconfidence.Inside thefrontdoorwasasmallreceptionareaandonthewall,lookingouttothe sacredplant,wereportraitsofSaiBaba,fortheColonelwasadevoteeofSai Baba,theholyman.Betweentheplantandthepicturesthedailypujasor serviceswereperformed,andthesefewyardsweretheaxisofthespirituallifeof theColonel'shousehold. IsatinthisshadedpooloffaithundertheNeem,lookingalongthepathtothe gardengateandattwowomenwhowerestandingthereandtalkingaboutthe arrangementsforawedding.Theyworesarisofcourse.Iwastryingtodecide whatitwasaboutthisgarden,thislight,thesewomen,thatmadethesarilookso. natural. Thewomenwerethemotherandthesisterofthebridetobe.Theyoungwoman woreapinkbodiceunderhersari,buttheolderwomanjustdrapedtheloose foldsofcottonoverherbreast.Thetemperaturewassuchthatallclotheswere meredecoration. Nothingchanged.Timepassed.Thesquirrelnibbled,ranupthetree,camedown again.Thewomentalked,andIheardtherapidsyllablesofTamilspurtingout, eachspurtendingonatantalizingdrawnoutvowelsound.Behindtheleavesof theNeemthesunbrokeintoathousandglitteringfragmentsandmovedslowly towardsevening. TheColonel'shousewashumble.Oncethefamilyhadlivedinabighouseand ownedasizeablepieceofMadras,buttimeshadchangedandanywaythe Colonelhadfoundsatisfactioninsimplicity.Thehousewasabungalowwithaflat roof.AtoneendwastheColonel'sbedroom.Attheotherendwasanofficecum

spareroomwhereInowslept.Betweenthetwowerethelittlehallwayandthe kitchen. Thekitchenwasmysteriousanddark,withlittlefurnitureandastonefloor.The housekeeper,atubbydeterminedwoman,satonthefloortochopfoodona boardandgrindthespicesinamortar.Atnightshesleptonthefloorbehindthe frontdoor.Shewasaveryreligiouswomanandsometimeswentintoatrance, singinganddancingandtwirlingratherdangerously,andthenittookthestrength ofseveralmentorestrainher. Therewereseveralsmallerbuildingsaroundthegarden.Myfriendwashousedin one.Attheotherendofthegardennearthegateandbeyondthewomenwho werestilltalking,wasanotherabodeattachedtoagarage.Thatwaswherethe fatherofthebridetobelived.HewasaBrahmincalledRajaram,whohad appearedbychanceintheColonel's lifesomeyearsbeforeandhadstayedtobecometheresidentspiritualadviser. Hewascomingtowardsmenow,pastthewomenandtheNeemtree,asmallthin figure,perfectlyerect,withastrikingheadandprominentfeatures.Hiseyeswere largeandluminous,andhismouthwaspoisedalwaysonthebrinkofmirth,for theworldwastohimasourceofconstantamusement. Heworeanopenshirtrevealingastringofbrownbeadsandtheknottedcordof hiscaste.Roundhiswaistwastiedtheusualcottonskirtcalledalungi.Hischest wasnutbrown,hairless,veryspareandscarcelywrinkledatall,thoughhewas certainlyoverseventyyearsold.Therewasalittlewispywhitehaironhishead, andrathermoreinhisears.Hewasalmostdeaf,andIgottheimpressionthathe wasquitegladtobesparedfromhearingsomuchnonsense.Itcertainlysaved himfromalotofthefusstodowiththewedding,andhejokedaboutthecostofit andtheceremonyattachedtoit. Theguestlisthadgrowntooverahundredandeveryonehadtobefed,with manydishesservedonbananaleaves. 'Therearefourthousandpeoplecoming,'hesaid,splutteringwithlaughter.'Each oneisgettingatamarindleafwithonegrainofrice.' Hiswifescoldedhimfornottakingitseriously,butfortunatelyhecouldnothear her.Hecameuptomenowandgreetedmegravely.Thenpointingtothe motorcyclestandingnearhisroom,heheldhishandsoutinfrontofhimas thoughgraspingthecontrolsandpretendedtoroaroffintothesky,grinninglikea child. 'Youareflyingthroughtheworld,'hesaid.'Youmustbegoingattwohundred milesanhour.' Ilaughedtoseehisenchantment.Itwaswonderfulthatthistinyoldmancould imaginehimselfrushingthroughthestratosphere,bowleggedandbeadsflying, astrideagreatmachine.Thebikewassofamiliartome,initscapacitiesand limitations,thatIwassurprisedwhenotherssawitasasymbolofgreatspeed andpower. TheColonelcameoutofthehousecarryingasilverplatter.Duringthedayhe woreEnglishclothes.Whengoingtotownheputonhispolishedbrownshoes andhissolartopeeandcarriedacane.Nowhewaswearingalungialso,andthe Indianshirt.Hecametomeandshowedmethegreypowderontheplate. 'Thisisvibuti,'hesaid.'Itisholyash.Itisthecustomtoputthisonourforeheads whenweworshipGod.'Heputhisfingerintheashanddrewalineovermynose, likeanexclamationmark.Ishudderedslightlytothetouch,andthenfeltcalmed

byit.Thereisgreatpowerinsuchdeliberatetouchingofanotherhumanbeing, andIhadbeenexperimentingwithit,tryingtorecognizetheforcethatlayinmy hands. RajaramwentthroughtheritualofthepujainfrontofmewiththeColonel standingsolemnlyby.Theplantandthetreewerepartofit,andthen,still chanting,theBrahminwalkedtothepicturesinthehouseandchantedinfrontof themtoo,'Hare,Hare,Krishna,Krishna,'andsoon,theColonelfollowingand standingby.Itwasbusinesslikebutnotatallperfunctory,assomuchChristian ritualseems,andastheChinesehadseemedintheirtemples.Myfriendstood by,ratherdetachedwithhisarmsfolded,lookingasEnglishhereinIndia,ashe hadlookedIndianinEngland. Withnoreligionofmyown,Ihadalwaysbeenembarrassedwhenotherstriedto drawmeintotheirreligiousexercises,saying'grace'forexampleatLusaka,even makingacircleofhandsattheranch,theleastofstatements.Yethere,Ialready feltthatIwaslivingasmuchinatempleasinahousemerelybybeinghereI wasengagedinsomekindofworship,anditdidnotoffendmeatall.WhatI objectedto,whathadalwaysseemedawkwardandartificial,wastheseparation ofGodfromtheworld.'Andnow,abriefwordtoourSponsor...',thatkindof thing.Iftherewasagodatall,thenwhereverhewaswouldhavetobein everythingallthetime,especiallyinme.AfteronlytwentyfourhoursinIndiaI couldalreadyfeelthatpresence,inthetree,theplant,theanimals,inRajaram.It wasthelivingbeliefofothersthatconjuredupthisfeelinginme.Iwasexcited andcurioustoseehowitwouldaffectmeinthelongrun.Asfaith,or superstition? 'SaiBabaisquitearemarkableman,'saidtheColonel.Icouldseehisproblem. HowdoyoutalkaboutsuchthingstoanEnglishman?Theword'remarkable'has aniceunderstatedhonestyaboutit.Mightdothetrick?Helookedatmethrough hisdarkbrowneyes,tryingtogaugewhetheritwasworthgoingon.TheColonel wasaverystraightforwardman,withoutguile.Itriedtobeencouraging. 'Hedoescertainthingswhichcanonlybedescribedasmiracles.Forinstancethis holyasfhnow,yousee,thisvibuti.Hecanproduceitfromhishand.Hewillwalk amonghisdevoteesanddistributethevibuti.Inconsiderablequantities.Imyself haveseenitliterallypouringout.' Thisistheturningpoint,Ithought.Hehascommittedhimselfnow,bythe evidenceofhisowneyes.Inoddedenthusiastically. 'ThatisthesortofthingIhavebeenlookingforallalong,'Isaid.'InBrazilIheard aboutsomethingsimilar...'Istopped.TheColonelwaslisteningpolitely,butI couldseethathedidnotwanttohearaboutBrazil. 'Ofcourse,manyholymencanproducevibutihesaid.'Thatisnothingspecial. NowSaiBabadoesotherthingsmuchmoreremarkable.Hecanproduceobjects suchasjewellery,andpreciousstones.Therearerecordedinstancesofhim takingabrokenwatchfromadevoteeand returningitinperfectorderafterholdingitinhishand.Iwillgiveyouabookto read.Therearemanyexamples. 'SaiBabahasencouragedmetodomyownworkhere.Ihadtheideaofbuilding asmalltempledevotedtohim,andahallwherepeoplemaycometohearabout differentreligions.Yousee,thereisonlyoneGod.Christ,Buddha,Brahma, Mohammad,itisallthesame.

TaskedSaiBaba,andhegavemehisblessing.Everyyearheproducesalingam fromhismouth.ItisanimportanteventatWhitelands,wherehehashis headquarters.Itisquiteextraordinary.Thelingamisverybig.Itisimpossibleto seehowitcanpassthroughhisthroat. 'ThereisalwaysagreatthrongofdevoteesandSaiBabapassesamongus, talkingtosome,steppingoverbodiestogetpast.Atonepointhesteppedonmy backtopassacrossandyouknow,aquiteremarkablething,hewasweightless. Hehadhisfootonmybackbuttherewasabsolutelynoweightatall.' Wewalkedthroughthegateandalongthepavement,andthenturnedback behindthegardenwalltowherethetemplewas,asimplesquarebuildingwitha woodenfloor,andatthebackashrinewithtwoportraitsofSaiBaba.Inonehe wasgarlandedandsmiling,andthepicturewasratherfadedwithbrownmarksat thebottomedge.Intheotherhewasstandingatthetopofaflightofstonesteps inavividcrimsonrobe.Hewasasmalldarkskinnedmanwitharoundface appearingatthecentreofamassoffuzzyblackhair.Theportraitswereinsilver frames.Beneathonewasasilverbowlandbeneaththeotherwasatray. 'NowIhavebroughtyouheretoseethis,'saidtheColonel,'becauseitisproof. Fromthisportrait,yousee,ashfallsintothetray.Thevibutiyouhaveonyour foreheadcameoutofthispicture.Everymorningthereismoreashonthetray. Andfromtheotherpicturehoneyrunsintothebowl.Itisquiteamazing.' Therewasashinthetray,butthebowlwasempty. 'Duringthelastfewdays,thehoneyhasstopped,Ithinkitisasignthat somethingisnotright.Therearecertainproblems.IamplanningtoaskSai Baba'sadvice.' Justsuppose,Isaidtomyself,thatIcreptouthereatmidnight,andhid.WouldI belikelytoseeoldRajaramslipthroughthewindowwithasyringeandinject honeyintothatphotograph?OrwouldtheColonelappearfurtivelyinhis nightgownandshakeashintothetray?Itwaspreposterous.Iimaginedmyself devotingalifetimetoexperimentswithcarbondatingandisotopetagging,infra redcamerasandlaserbeamstoprovethattheColonelandtheBrahminwere trueorfalse.AndneverwouldIknowanybetterthanIknewalreadyafteronly twentyfourhours,thatitcouldnotbeinthemtodeceivemeinthatway.Oreven ifIshowedthemfalsetoday,whatistostopthembeingtruetomorrow? Lettheashpour,andthehoneydrip.Whatdotheyproveafterall?Thattheworld isfullofmarvelswhichIdon'tunderstand?Ihaveknownthatforalongtime. Therearesubtletiesheretobepenetrated,butnotbyscientificexperimentson thecompositionofhoneyandtheoriginsofash. Still,Ithought,IshallgoandseethisSaiBaba.Itwouldbesomethingtobe presentatamiracle. MyfriendintroducedmetothemoremundaneaspectsoflifeinMadras.Itasted againthestrangepleasuretobehadinvisitinginstitutionscreatedbytheBritish inanotherera,andmaintainedbytheIndiansintheiroriginalformfortheirown use.TherewassquashandgingerbeerattheMadrasCricketClub,forexample, andtherewasstillafaintbutoriginalodourofmemsahibdriftingintheairof Spencer'sstore.Allofit,though,wastransformedformebythecalmofthe Colonel'sgardenandtheauraofRajaram.Iwaseasywiththeclimate,hotasit was,andhappywiththefood.AfterfourdaysIfeltrestedandsecure,andthe woundsofPenangseemedtohavefinallyclosed.IwasreadytosetoffintoIndia, likeashipwellriggedandprovisioned,witharestedcrew,agoodwindand

nothingbutfairweatherahead.Theblowfellthatmorning.Atelegramarrivedto tellmethatmystepfatherhaddiedsuddenlyandunexpectedly. Iwrestledwiththeproblemforhours.ManytimesIhadaskedmyselfwhatI woulddoifmymotherweretodiewhileIwasaway.Theanswerwasalways: keepgoing.Iwasobsessedbytheideathattobreakthejourneymightsomehow destroyit.ButithadneveroccurredtomethatitmightbeBill,somuchyounger, whowoulddiefirst.TheveryfactthatIshouldhavegotthenewsinMadras, whereeverydayplanestookoffthatcouldgetmetoEngland,seemed significant.WhatifithadhappenedwhileIwasonthealtiplano?InmyheartI knewIcouldnotleavemymotheraloneatsuchatime. IaskedRajaram,writingmyquestiondownonascrapofpaper: YESTERDAYMYSTEPFATHERDIED.WHATSHOULDIDOFORMYMOTHER? andherepliedinwritingtoo: 18or15yourprofitincomeyoumayhelpher.Itisboundendutyofhumanbeing ifshehelpless. MONEYISNOTTHEPROBLEM.IWANTTOCOMFORTHER. Thereisadoctoralreadytolookafterher. BUTWHICHWAYSHALLIGO? (Wearegiftedacompassinourheart)yourprayerwillguideyou,rightdirection foryourallsuccessinlife. Followingmycompass,ittookmethirteenhourstoflybacktotheplacethatIhad spentthreeyearstravellingawayfrom.Iwassuckedupbythesilvertubeand spilledoutonLondonAirport.WithinnotimeIwasstandingnexttomymotherat thecrematoriumchapel,astheremainsof herhusbandwereconsignedtotheflames.Iwassosickenedbythesoulless mechanics,thehideousinsensitivityofthewholeaffair,thathislossdidnotstrike hometomeuntilweeksafterwards.WiththefeelingofIndiastillstronginme,I feltIwouldratherbetossedoutonacharnelgroundforthevulturesthanbe disposedofbyremotecontrolbehindInyloncurtainsinagasoven,dispatched bytheroundedinsinceritiesofamassdestructionpriest. TheflightbacktoMadraswastedious.Policesearchedthe747atTelAvivand againatTeheran.ImissedtheconnectionatBombayandhadtospendanight thereinthemonsoon.Nextdaytheplanewasdelayedattakeoff.Engineers rootedaboutontheflightdeckwhileweroastedinthecabin. IsatnexttoaProfessoratMadrasUniversityreturningfromaspellinGermany. Hewasgoodcompany,buttheremarkItreasuredmostwasaboutthewaterin Frankfurt. 'Wealwaysboiledthetapwater,'hesaid.'Itispollutedandquiteunsafetodrink. FortunatelyinMadraswedon'thavethisproblem.Ourriverwaterisquitepure.' Bycoincidence,sometendayslatertheBombayMadrasplaneblewup,killing everyoneonboard. Madras,whenIgotbackthere,feltlikeadifferentplace.Iwasplaguedbyminor irritationsanddiscomfortsthatIhadnoteven noticedbefore,ifindeedtheyhad existed.Iwasbotheredbytheheat,thehumidityandthemosquitoes.Ifeltweak andjetlagged.Myfriendhadlongsinceleft,andIimaginedmyselflesswelcome thanIhadbeenbefore.Ifoundpeopleambiguousandinefficient,wagglingtheir headsintheabsurdwaytheydoasthoughthegesturealonewouldmake everythingturnoutfine.

Eatingwithmyfingerswasdisagreeable,andforcedmetowonderwhyIshould feelsovulnerablesittingattablewithsloppyfoodallovermyrighthand.Ifelta cravingformeat,thinkingitmightrestoremymorale,andIboughtachickenand askedthehousekeepertocookit. Itwasabadmistake.TheColonellikedmeat,havingbeenraisedinanEnglish tradition,buthewasnowconvincedthatitwaswrongtodoso.Rajaramwould nevertouchit,thoughhesweetlyignoredthosewhodid.Thehousekeeperwas thoroughlydisapprovingandIcouldseeIhadmadetheColonelfeelveryguilty. Whatwasworse,whenthechickenappearedonthetableinasmallbowl,there seemedtobenothingleftofitbutthebeak,neck,clawsandribs.Inaturally assumedthatthethriftyhousekeeperwasplanningtostretchitoverseveral meals,andinallinnocenceIaskedinwhatwaysheplannedtopreparethemeat. IthoughtKali,theGoddessofDestruction,wasgoingtoleapatmefromhereyes whentheColoneltranslatedthemessage. 'ShesaysthechickenisalltheresaidtheColonel.Iwaswiseenoughtokeep quiet,butIthoughtIhadbetterleavetheirhousesoonbeforeIblunderedinto evendeepertrouble.Itwasaclassicexampleofthedangerofflyingbetween differentworldsandcultures. ObviouslyitwasIwhohadchanged,andnotIndia,andIlongedtofeelthe satisfactionandcalmIhadknownbefore.Perhaps,Ithought,Iwillfinditinthe templesasIridesouthtoSriLanka.Therewasoneonlyfiftymilesawayat Kanchipuram.IsaidgoodbyetotheColonel,feelingverygratefultohimand miserableathavingevendoubtedhishospitality.IfeastedmyeyesonRajaram onelasttimeand,receivinghistranquilfarewell,IrodeintoIndia. RidingtheTempleTrailislikeridingintoaBlackHole.Everythingrushesin, squeezing,condensing,moreofeverythingthanyoueverthoughtpossible.You haveonlytopronouncethenamestoknow: EkamboreswaratempleatKanchipuram,Mahishisuramordhinicaveat Mahabalipuram,ArunachalatempleatTiruvanamalai,Tiruchchirapalliand BrihadeeswarertempleatThanjavur,moresyllablesperwordthantheWestern tonguecanrollround,morepeoplepertouristthantheeyecansee,more distancepermile,moresurprisesperminute,morecarvingspersquareyard. Everythinginprofusionandsuperfluity,andsomewhereinthemiddleofthis crush,theysay,iscalm.Sofindit! Noteasy.Asignpointsdownanarrowstreetofshopsandstalls,amilling confusionofpeople,animals,bicycles.Thebazaar.Abovetheseethingmass, appearingtoriserightoutofit,atoweringwedgeofmasonrycompletely obliteratedbycarvedfigures,asthoughsqueezedupandpetrifiedbythe pressureofthebazaaritself.Thetemple.Whatcausesthesepeopletocompress themselveslikethis?Iusedtothink,inmyairyWesternway,thatitwasbecause thereweresomanyofthem.EveryquestionaboutIndiawassoeasilyanswered by'overpopulation'.NowIremembertheinsaneknotsofpeopleroundthe counterofanotherwiseemptyshoporpostoffice,thesteadypressureoftheman behindmeinthequeue,forcinghisbodyagainstmine,drawnbyamindless magnetism.Icallitinsanebecausemysanityflourisheswithspaceanddistance. Indiaseemslikeagiantcondenser,everybodystreamingtowardsthecentreto fuse.

IstopthebiketoconsiderwhetherIcanreallyhopetopenetratethebazaar.A ringofbodiesformsinstantly,andbeginstothicken.Thecrowdiscrystallizing aroundme.Ihavetoholdtightforasecond,butthereisnodanger.Iwaswell trainedinSouthAmerica,andthecrowdhereisjustadegreeortwomore concentrated.Iseethatitisonlypartlycuriositythatdrawsthem,becausemuch ofthetimetheyarenotevenlookingatme.It'smorethatImightmeanan opportunity,aluckychance.Theinstinctistogetclosetotheaction,that'sall. I'mbusymakingcontact,makingsuretheyknowIamahumanbeing.Itakeoff myhelmetandtalk,lookingoutovertheseaoffaceswiththeconfidenceofa superstar.Thereareeasilyahundredpeoplegatheredroundme,buttheyare shortandIcanlookdownonthem. Whereisthetemple?CanIgothroughthisway?Amanintheforeground answers. 'Yes,youcango.Youarecomingfrom?Yournativeplaceis?' Astreamofquestions,andasIanswerIamtryingtocultivatehumility,becauseit wouldbesoeasytothinkIcouldplaygameswiththesepeople.Itrytoremember thatfromtheirpointofview,aswellasbeingfascinatingImightalsoseem exceptionallyfoolish. Ikicktheengineoverandthecrowdopensbeforeme.AtawalkingpaceIride throughtotheoutergateofthetemple.Itisnotagoodwaytoarrive.Thereisno logicalplacetoparkabike,anditlooksveryvulnerable.Iamhotandabsurdly overdressedinbootsandjeans,andIhavetocarrythejacketandhelmet, becausethereisnowheretoleavethem.Ontopofthat,acameraandalong lens. Ifeellikeatarget,notaperson.Andherecomethekids. 'HelloSir,whatisyourname?Whereyouarecomingfrom?Youaregoing?Iam collectingcoins.Youarehavingcoinsfromyourcountry?Iamalsocollecting stamps.Youarehaving?Givemeonerupee.' Andthenthemanwiththesandalsandthepostcards,andthebeads,asIwalk towardstheinnergate.Ontherightofthegateisasanctuarylikeacave,andin thedoorwaystandsanextraordinaryfigureofamanwithstreaksofcoloured paintoverhisforeheadandanexpressionofsuchsolemnitythatIwanttolaugh. Heismakingweirdgestureswithhisarms,andallIcanthinkisthathelookslike afake,likeCharltonHestonactingacrazyBrahminforCecilB.deMille.Heis beckoningtomeanysecondIexpecttohear: 'Hey,sport!Overhere!Listen!Yoursoul'sslipping,feller.Don'tmissSiva's lingam,sport.Maybeyourlastchancethislifetime.Seethegreasygheepour downoverthesupremeprick.Hurry!TheWisdomoftheOrientawaitsyou.' Thekidsarestillonmytrail,andIhavebeenjoinedbyayoungmanwhosimply walksalongsidemewithanineffablysweetsmile,sosweetandsadthatIam surehehasbeenpractisingitforyears.Heasksfornothing,butasthecollectors ofcoins,stamps,ballpensandrupeeslaunchyetanotherassault,hesays'Ah, thoseboys,'againandagain. Insidethegatetheunofficialsolicitingslackensoff,theWistfulSmilerkeepshis distance(whatdoeshewant?)andIwanderaboutlookingforinspiration.Under anenormousslabofstonesupportedbyhundredsofcarvedpillars,asmallfamily iscookinginabrasspotoverafire.Abeardedmanapproaches,making semaphoremovementswithhisarms.Hestareshotlyintothemiddleofmyskull, andthenturnsawayasifhe'sgotthemessage.Ihavenotgotthemessage.My

eyesaregrabbingateverything,butIstilldon'tknowwhatI'mdoinghere.Either thiswholegiganticaffairisafraud,orsomeonewillhavetocomeandtellmethe truth. Lookingfortheheartofthetemple,Ifindacashdeskwithamansittingbehind bars.There'saboardupwithvariousprices:30paise,75paise,1rupee25,2 rupees50,buttheexplanationisprintedinTamil.EventuallyIdiscoverthatthis doesnotapplytome.AsanonHinduIamaprohibitedpersonbutayoungman takesmyarmandsays'Come.Iwillshowyou.'AsIhesitate,hesays:Tamnota guide.Iamapriest.' Hedrawsmeroundalabyrinthofcolonnadedpassages,rattlingaway.WhenI listencloselyIrealizeheisspeakingEnglish,butthesyllablesarecollidingand leapfroggingovereachother.ThenwecometotheMango Tree.Partitionshavebeenbuilttoshielditfromanycasualeye,andIamled insidewherealoquaciousoldgentlemantakesover. TheMangoTree,hesays,isprobablythreethousandyearsoldandhasfour branches.Eachbranchbearsadifferentqualityoffruit:bitterandsweet,sourand savoury.Hewalksmeroundthetreeatafairtrot. 'Andnow,'hesaysgrandly,armsoutstretched,'Youcanoffersomethingtobe sharedamongthesefriends.' Thefriends,Isee,includethePriestandtheWistfulSmiler. 'Tenrupeesistheleastyoucanoffer.' Igivetwo,withbadgrace,andhurryoff.AsIemergefromthetemple,thePriest, whohasbeenkeepingupwithme,saysIalsocollectingcoins...' Butthebikeisuntouched,andthoughthekidsgreetmeinevengreaternumbers, Iamabletokeepmytemperwiththemandevenclownabit,andallIloseismy ballpen.TheWistfulSmilersmilesonmeagain,inthebazaar,andIhave learnedtodoitdifferentlynexttime.Anyway,thetruthiswaitingformenextday ontheroadatChingleput. OnthemainroadatChingleputisapetrolanddieselstation,andontheopposite sideoftheroad,awoodenteahouse.Trucks,busesandcarsstophere,anditis abusyarea.Onemanhasputhimselfinchargeofit.Howhehasdoneso,Idon't know,butthereisnodoubt,asIwatchhimoveracupofmilktea,thatheisin command. Heisahandsome,powerfullybuiltmaninmiddleagewithirongreyhairclose croppedonastronghead.Hisfaceisparticularlystrikingithastheintelligence andflairofastatesmanorasoldier,linesdeeplyetchedandshowinggreatforce andpassion,even,Iwouldsay,genius. Bothhislegsarecutoffhalfwayalongthethigh,andhesitsonthestumpsona littlewoodentrolley,acoupleofinchesofftheground.Hehasleatherpadsonhis handstopushhimselfalong.Itseemstomethathehasalltheenergyand convictionittakestorunacountryorcommandanarmy,andhehasputitinto beingacrippledbeggar.Heskatesbackandforthacrossthetarmacwith immenseskill,shoutinghisdemands,roaringwithlaughterwhenheisrefused, slappinghisstumpswithmirthanddefyingfatewitheverygesture.Thereisnota dropofpathosorselfpityinhimanywhere.Heisablazeofvitality.Whenhe holdsouthishandtome,andIhesitate,hegruntswithimpatience,laughs,and scootsofftothenextarrival.Thereisnoquestionthatitwasmyloss,nothis. Thereisnooneinsightwhocouldevenbegintochallengehisauthority,andhe isthebestexampleIhaveeverseenofthepowerofthehumanspirittoimpose

itselfoverfate.Isitpurecoincidence,then,thatIshouldsee,thenextday, anothermanwhoachievedasmuchandinaquitedifferentway? Fromadistanceheisnomorethanablacksmudgeonthepavementoutsidethe ContinentalHotelinPondicherry.Whenitbecomesapparentthatthisblobhasa humanheadonit,myinclinationistohurryby,buttwosmallboyspreventme, andreluctantlyIamdrawntowardsit. Theheadisabouteighteeninchesabovethepavement,andisnotnearlyas handsomeastheChurchillofChingleput's,butatleastitisacompletehead,and itsitsonshoulders.Oneshoulderisbetterdevelopedthantheother,andfromita singlestrongarmreachesuppasttheheadtograspastick.Belowtheshoulders andunderhisshirtIcanseetheoutlineofanunderdevelopedchest,which seemstoberestingdirectlyonthepavement.Whateverelseisthereis concealedbytheshirt,butthereisnoroomforanythingmuch.Itisutterly improbablethatthispersoncouldexistatall.Itseemstolackroomforthemost basicorgans,justahead,shouldersandlungshanginglikeavineonastick.But Imuststopthiscallousclinicalnamingofparts,becausehesays:'Good afternoon'. Icrouchdownonthepavement,andwehaveaconversationinEnglish.His Englishislimitedbutintelligible,andhespeaksgently,withpatience.Heisforty yearsold.ThisaloneIfindincredible.Withhiswitheredarmhebringsoutsome papersfrombeneathhisshirt.Amongthemisanaddressbook.Hehasfriends everywhere.HecorrespondswithEuropeandAmerica.Forsomemonthshe livedwithsomeGermansintheirrentedroomsuntiltheirvisasexpired.Thereis anexchangeoflettersalsowithawheelchairfirminCalcutta,andaschemefor sponsoringtheconstructionofaspecialdevicetowheelhimaround. FromthisalmostnonexistentbeingonapavementinPondicherry,afieldof consciousnessreachesoutaroundtheglobe.AsfarasIknowheisnotagreat painterorpoetormusician,thoughitwouldbewonderfulifhewere,buthis accomplishmentismuchgreaterthanthat.Againstalltheodds,hehasrefusedto disappear. I'mridingawkwardlythroughathicketofexperience,stillshakyfromtheflightto Europe.AfterthreeyearsonthemoveIcan'tmendmyfencessofast.Ihover betweenconfidenceandasenseofgreatloss,tryingtounderstandthemeaning ofwhathashappened.MyfirstdaysinMadrasshouldhavebeenthebeginning ofafinalandmarvellouschapterinIndia,fullofdiscovery,significanceand spiritualsatisfaction.ThatishowIwouldhavewrittenit,butIhavelostthe strengthtosustaintheillusionandrealityhastrippedmeup. HadIreallybeenonalongflightfromreality,tryingtogivemeaningtosomething thatwasmeaningless?WasitalljustanescapethatIhadbeentryingtoturninto alegend?Iwasteeteringonaknifeedgebetweenfaithanddespair.Wasthe purposeofthatreturntoEuropejusttoshowmethattherewasnopurpose?I arrivedtherefullofwisdom,butnothingIhadseenordoneorthoughtseemedto berelevant.Ipassedthrough pubs,offices,restaurants,supermarkets,stifledbytheboredomofit,butwith nothingusefultosaytoanyone.Ifeltthefailurewasmine,thatifIhadproperly understoodmyexperienceinAfrica,America,Asia,Ishouldbeabletoapplyitto peopleintroublewiththecostoflivingorcareerbottlenecksorsheerboredom. Someofthemevenaskedme,thinkingIshouldknow,butmyanswersseemedto

offernosolution.Myadvicealwaysboileddowntothesamething.Don'tsolvethe problem,justgiveitup. TheyalwaysassumedIwasadvisingthemtomovetosometropicalparadise.I sawthedisillusiongrowingintheireyes. 'Well,franklyoldboywe'dlovetobut,withtheboysjustinschoolandthe propertymarketbeingwhatitis...' InPondicherryIspendadaydrinkinghotteaandsweating,togetridofafever. ThensomedaysatAuroville,acityofthefuturethatexistsinthedreamsofa scatteredbandofpeople,mostlyEuropeansandAmericans,livingonagreat sandysitenearthecoast.Whereelseintheworldcouldtherebesomuchclarity amidstconfusion,somuchloveamidsthostility,somuchbeautyinsqualor,so muchfaithagainstalltheevidence?ThepioneersofAurovilleareatwarwith theirgoverningashraminPondicherry.Amongthemselvestheyholdwildly differentviewsabouthowthedreamoftheirguidingspirit,MotherAurobindo, shouldbecarriedout.TherearesomeFrenchpeoplelivingasthoughonaluxury holidayinSt.Tropez,Australiansfarminglikeaboriginalsinloinclothsonadietof fermentedfingermillet,aMexicanrunningamarketgardenonthelinesofa JesuitMissioninLatinAmerica,otherslivingmoreorlessorthodoxlivesinother cornersofthisvastestate.YetIfeelthecohesioninallthisdiversity,anditis symbolizedbyahuge,raw,ferroconcreteskeleton,unfinishedandhungryfor labour,handbuiltonthescaleofamodernconstructionproject,whichoneday, Godwilling,willbecomeashimmeringsixtyfootglobeenshriningtheaspirations ofthemall.Meanwhileitisademandingandpracticallyuselessburdenwithout which,Ifeel,thewholeplacewillfallapart. Iammoreathomeinthetemplesnow,lessencumbered,andatThanjavurIfind theonethatsendsmyspiritsoaring.Ithasaperfectform,asclassicalasthe PiazzaSanMarcoinVenice,andshouldbecalledtheDrawingRoomofIndia. MyselfappointedguideiscalledRavi.Heisfourteenandverysharp.Heclaims thatbeingaguideishishobby,andplaysaneattrickonmebynottaking anything,andsokeepingmysuspicionsaliveallafternoon. LateraliteraturestudentcalledGopalcatchesme,likeafish,inaquiet backwaterofThanjavurwhereI'meatingacurry.Bythrashingthewaterall aroundme,hemanagestoguidemetohishomewherehisfriendscome,one afteranother,toseewhathehasbrought. Heisinafeverofexcitementabouthavinghookedawriter,andisdetermined thatImustatleastbeSolzhenitsyn,ifnotShakespeare.Whentheexpected fountainofwisdomfailstospurtfrommylips,hisdisappointmentismanifest. 'Doesitnotbotheryouthatyouhavenotmadeyourname?'heasksina hectoringmanner. 'WouldyouknowifIhad?'Iask,sincehedoesnotyetknowmyname. Twouldcertainlyknowifyouwereanimportantjournalistorwriter,forIam readingalwaysanythingIcangetmyhandson.WhataboutIreland?Arethe BritishbeingfairtoIrishCatholics?WhatabouttheIsraelihijack?Whatabout thisinflation?' Sittingonabareironbedframeinacelllikeroomfacingmyinquisitor,IfindI havenotasingleusefulopinioninmyhead.Ihavereadnoneofthebookshe mentions,knownexttonothingabouttheauthorsheconsidersgreat.Itisvery dispiriting.Hedoesnotseemtowanttotalkaboutthings,onlytonamenames

andlistsubjectsandtitles.EventuallyIcounterattackwithashortlectureon empiricism.Itisextremelyfeeble,buthiswaspishnessmeltsunderasinglehot breath.Nowhewantsmeforagodfather.Iamtointroducehisworktopublishers inLondon,offercriticismandenlightenment,fosterhiscareer.Withgreatdifficulty Imanagetodisentanglemyselfwithoutactuallytellingalie. HowcouldIresentsuchopportunism,though.Inthistideofhumanity,wherean economicsdegreemightjustgetyouajobonabus,it'snotgoodenoughtoopen thedoortoopportunity.Youmustlassoitonthedoormat. OntoTeruchchirapalli,Dundigal,MaduraiandRameswaram.Thehumidityisso greatthateverytimeIputmyhandinmypocketIpulltheliningoutwithit.The soilisarid,andturnstosand.Goatsnibbleeverystrugglingbladeofgrass.Under aclearskyIhearashowerofrainandlookbehindme,butitisthepatternofgoat hoovesonasphalt.Strange.RemindsmeofthetimewhenIwascampedbythe roadsideinBrazilandthoughtIheardcartwheelsapproachingoverthetravel.I turnedtoseeabushfireadvancingtoconsumeme. Thefeverhasreturned,mildbutbothersome,usuallyintheafternoon.Ithasthe effectofshakingmymindloosefrommybody,sothatthemeaningofthingsis outoffocus.Ihopeitwillgoawayofitsownaccord. TheferrytoSriLankacrossesfromRameswaramtoTalimannar.Thedistanceis twentyfivemiles.Iboarditatteninthemorningandgetoffjustaftermidnight.It maybetheworld'sslowestboat.Thesamepeoplekeepturninguponthistrail south,andtheyareontheferry.Thefour HariKrishnadisciplesareonmyleft,andoneofthemisdinginghistinycymbals inmyear.AwildandnervousAustralian'bushie'isheretoo.Iamreadingand havemyhelmetonthechairnexttome.I'mreadingbecauseIfeelstickyand sick,andIamdesperatelyanxioustoputmymindsomewhereelsejustnow,but theAustralianisdesperatetotalk. 'Areyoutiredofansweringthesamequestions?'heasked. 'Yes,'Isay,firmly,withoutlookingup. Heperchesonthebenchoppositeme,andstaresfixedlytosea.Iknowhe's uncomfortable,andsoamI.AtlastImovemyhelmetandhesitsbesideme.He's tryingnottotalk,buthe'slikeakettleontheboil,andhecan'thelpit. 'WouldyouliketohearsomeCommunism?'hesays. ThesoundofcymbalsinoneearandCommunismintheotheristoomuch.That isprobablywhatstartedthebackache,agitatingamuscleatthebottomofmy spinethatgoesberserkonceortwiceayear,atinconvenientmoments.Riding thebikeIhardlyfeelit,butwhenIgetoffthebikeithurtslikehell. At8.30wetouchagainstajetty,inthedarkness,butunaccountablytheboatsails offagain.Attenwereturn,onlytosailawayagainandreturnontheotherside. ForthistwentyfivemileferryrideIhavetoundergoalltheformalitiesofanocean crossing:abilloflading,ahandlingcharge,aportcharge,andasixrupeecharge tomaintainthefloatingwharfunderthewearandtearofmymotorcycle.The paperworkisvoluminousandinfuriatingateachend,andIamnotdealingwithit well.Ishouldconsidermyselffortunatetogetawayatmidnight.Thehordesof Indianpassengers,Ilaterhear,don'tgetashoreuntil4a.m. FortendaysIridearoundtheisland,appreciatingthecalmofit.Thepressureis offherethepeopledon'tswarminthesameway.It'slikeadroppedoutversion ofIndia.Ihavecomeasarainmaker.Fortwoyearstheyhavehaddrought.The greatreservoirstheycall'tanks'arenearlydry.Theyneedwaterverybadly,and

onmyfirstdaytherethemonsoonbegins.Icanfinditinmyhearttobeveryglad forthem,butitcomplicatesmylife,becauseitkeepsmemovingwhenIwould ratherliestill.Imeetmanylovelypeople,seemanybeautifulthings,butall againstabackdropofacheandfever.Whilethebackacheimproves,thefever getsworse,andasitfluctuatesIgettwoquiteseparateimagesofthetropics.In themorning,clearsightedandwithacleanbrain,Iseeeverythinginbrightand rapturousgrowth.Thewetjunglesmellsfreshandexcitingthejunglebirdsleave notesofunbearablebeautyhangingontheairtheworldburstswithnewforms andcolours,andthepeopleseemwiselycontenttoacceptwhatnatureoffersand notworryaboutshortagesandbureaucracyandtheirpoliticalfuture.Later,asthe heataccumulates,andthehumiditythickens,asIgettiredandthefevercomesto dislocatemysenses,Iseetheothersideofthetropics.Iseesqualoranddecay, smellthestenchofcorruptioneverywhere,feeltheblindforceofthejungle reachingouttoswallowme,andthepeopleseemmorose,pathetic,sinkingever deeperintoaputrefyingslum. AtPuttalam,aTamiltownonthewestcoast,thisjaundicedviewoflifehitsrock bottom.AsIwalkalongtheshoreofthelagoon,everythingIseeseemsfraught withdegradation:apuppyhoveringroundafishstall,soeatenupbywormsthatit isnomorethanaskullonmatchsticksabeachstinkingwithrefusesomecrows scrappingformorsels.Oneofthecrowsisobviouslyfeeble,itsfeathersscraggy. Itcan'tgettothefood,andputsitsclawpleadinglyonthebackofanotherbird, twice.IwouldneverhavethoughtIcouldbreakmyheartoveracrow.The healthybirdsflyoff,leavingittostumblealongonitsown.ThenIsee,amongall thefilth,andplasticandshreddedtyres,adog,curledupandlickingsomething.It looksatmewithredmournfuleyes.Iseeitisabitchwithdistendedudders,and betweenitsfrontpawsisthebodyofadeadpuppylyingbackonthegarbageand oozingblood. Theseexamplesofmiseryanddeathdepressmeprofoundly.Everythingseemsa terriblemess.Thebuildingsaremildewedwrecks,humaneffortseemsfutilethe peoplejustasuccessionofemptyheadedbodieswrappedinsheetswithshirt tailsflapping,facilesmilessignifyingnothingifnotenvyandingratiation.Inotice onlythestupidity,theinefficiency.ThinkingoftheearlyEuropeanplanterswho weresopronetofeverishillness,Iamamazedatthemiserytheymusthave endured.TherearetimeswhenIwouldgivealmostanythingtofeelacoldwind blow. Ivaluetheseinsightsbuttheyareunderminingmeseriously,andImustgetridof thefever.AttheresthouseItryagainwithmassivedosesofhottea,andsweat enoughtobelieveImighthavebrokenit,butonthewaytoMannaritreturnsto hauntmeagain.TheresthousemanatMannarremembersmeandgivesmethe sameroomIhadonmyarrival.IlikedithereandIhavecomeearlytogive myselfanextradaybeforetheferryleaves.ThereisanoldPortuguesefortIwant tolookatandabridgewhereIwanttotryfishing.Igostraightoutwithmyrod, hopingtobeleftalone,butbetelchewingspectatorsgatherroundme.ThenIget abite.Itfeelsbig,andit'sthefirsttimeI'vefeltthatheavypullontheline.Asting ray.Fantastic.Idon'tcarewhetherit'sedibleornot,Ijustwanttolookatit.My audiencewarnsmetobecareful.Oneofthemshowsmehowtoremovethesting which,tomyamazement,isnotattheendofthetailatall,butclosetotheroot, likeaquill.

ProudlyIcarrymyprizebacktotheresthouse,andthecooksayshewillfryitfor me,but'asafishitisnotfamous.'ReturningtotheloungeI seetwomencomeinandmyheartsinks.Theywereonthebridgeearlierand annoyedmeunreasonablywiththeirquestions. 'Yournativeland,please?Areyouauniversitygraduate?Howmuchdoesthis rodcostinyourcountry?Andthisjacket?Andtheseshoes?'andonandon.Now Ihavetositandtaketeawiththem.Thereisnoescape.Oneisagovernment clerk,andtheotheristheMedicalOfficerofMannar.Theyhavesolittletosay, andunderstandevenlessofthelittleIhavetooffer,thatitisjustayawningritual. 'Whataretheprincipalillnesseshere?'IasktheM.O. Malaria,tuberculosis,typhoid... 'Whatarethesymptomsoftyphoid?' Afeverbuildingupslowlyoveranumberofdays,bodyaches,headache,nausea ... WhentheyhavefinallyleftItellmyselfitcan'tbetyphoidbecauseIdon'tfeel nauseous.AnhourlaterIamsick.Thefeverisinmeagaintoo.Thoroughly alarmed,ItelltheresthousemanagerthatImustgotoadoctor.Therainis comingdownwithgreatforce,butthereisacarparkedoutsideandtheowner saysitcantakemetothehospital. Ayoungdoctorreceivesmewithgreatamusement. 'Whatdoyouwant?'heasked,chuckling.'Doyouwantmedicineortobe admitted.' Twanttoknowwhat'swrongwithme,'Isay,stiffly,irritatedbyhisattitude.Why can'thestopgrinning.'You'vegotafever,'hesays. It'ssoridiculousIhavetosmiletoo,thoughIdon'twantto.'Why?'Iask. 'Theclimate,'hesays.'TakeaDispirinanditwillgo.''That'swhatI'vebeendoing forthreeweeks.' Hestillthinksit'sahugejoke,andasksseveralquestionsbutdoesn'tlistentothe answers.'Cough,'hesays.'What?''Cough.'Icough. 'Yousee,'hesays.'You'vegotacough.'Thatalonealmostcuresme. Backattheresthouse,convincedatleastthatIdon'thavetyphoid,Ibringoutthe antibioticsforthefirsttimetotreatmyself.Tetracyclinemightdoit.Itakethe dose,andgofishingagain. Thatnightatremendousstormblowsup,withsoundslikecannonfiring.There arepoolsofwateronthefloors,thegardenisalake,andthevarnishonallthe furnitureisasstickyastoffee.BetweennineandmidnightIrivalthestormby sweatingalakemyself.Notjustthesheetsbutthemattressalsoissoakedright through,andIhavetochangebeds.BymorningIknowthefeverhasbroken. IfirstthoughtofbecomingagodasIwasridingnorthfromMadurai.Thefever wasgone.Ifeltmorethanjusthealthy,Iwasburstingwithlifeandjoy,floatingas youdowhenyouhaveputdownaheavyload.Withoutexhaustionordiscomfort tobluntmysenses,withoutthedistortingeffectoffever,Isawmyselftobeina paradise. Firsttherewerethetrees.TheNeem,thePeepul,theTamarind,countless others,stoodatstatelyintervalsalongsidetheroadsandfieldslikegiant witnessesfromanotherage.Bytheirpresencetheytransformeverything,framing thelandscape,givingitdepth,varietyandfreshness,makinggreenglowing cavernsunderthesunandcastingpoolsofdappledshadewherepeopleand animalscanfeelatpeace.

Theox'screamyhideismadetoreflectthisflickeringlight.Underashadetreea pairofpaleoxenpassed,yokedtotheirrumblingcart.Theoxentossedtheir heads,brandishingtheirhighcrescenthornspaintedinredandbluebandsand tippedwithglitteringbrass.Theslack,velvetyhidebeneaththeirthroatsrippledin thesun,andtheimagewasprintedonmymemoryforlife.Onlyonmymemory? Sointensewastheimage,isstill,thatIcouldnotbelieveitwasmeantonlyfor me.Ifeltitburningintosomelargerconsciousnessthanmyown. Smallgroupsofwomenwalkedtheroadscarryingvastbutapparentlyweightless burdensoffodder,produce,potteryorhouseholdfurniture.Thebreezeswirled thehemsoftheirsarisintotheclassicmouldofnymphsandgoddesses. Wrappedinthosegauzylayersoflimegreenandrosered,theirbodieswereso poisedandsupplethatitwassometimesashocktoseecloseupthedeep wrinklesandgreyhairofage. FromtheroadIsawfieldsofgrainandpaddy.Womenworkedinlines,advancing acrossthemud,stoopingandrisingeasily,brilliantlycolouredagainstthegreen riceshoots.Themenworkedalmostnaked,withjustatriangleofclothbetween theirlongpowerfulthighs,blackskinnedandgleaming.Ateamofoxen harnessedtogetherandguidedbyonemanwaschurningupapaddyfield,flying roundatatremendousrate.Everywherepeoplemovedbrisklyandwith confidence.Theyandthelandwerepartofeachotherandhadshapedeach other.Theharmonywassocompletethatitseemedtopromiseuttertranquillity. AsIrodethroughitIfeltitreachingforme,asifIhadonlytostopandletmyself slideintoit,likeapebbleintoalake. IknewthoseIndiansweremostunlikelytosharemyvision.Howcouldthey, sincetheywereinit?Howcouldafishdescribewater?AndwhenIstoppedthe bikeandstoodidlebytheroadside,itfadedformetooundertheremorseless glareofsocalledreality.Iwouldhavetostripnaked,go hungry,livewiththemosquitoesandtheparasitesinthepaddysquelchandshed alargepartofwhatIlikedtocallmypersonality.Theverypartofmethatcould envisagesuchalifewouldpreventmefromlivingit.Didthatmakeitanillusion? Throughoutthejourney,asIrodethroughsomanylandscapes,passedthrough somanylives,formingimpressions,holdingthemanddevelopingthem,hadIjust beenwallowinginillusions?Itseemedveryextraordinarytomethat,riding throughSouthIndia,observingthislifearoundme,Icouldatthesametime summonupvividmentalimagesofAfricansworkingwithsisalandsugarcane,of Americansworkingamongcorn,cattle,bananasandoilpalms,ofThaisand Malaysworkingwithrice,sagoandpineapples.Icouldcreatelivingpicturesof peopleandplacesasremotefromtheseIndiansastheyhadoncebeenfromme. Ifmyheadcouldonlybewiredtoacolouredprintoutterminal,Icouldhave trailedablizzardofpicturepostcardsfromthefourcornersoftheearth. Justtobecarryingtheconsciousnessofsomuchatthesametimeseemedtome tobemiraculous,asthoughIwereobservingtheearthfromsomefaroffpoint, MountOlympus,perhaps,oraplanet.Ridingamotorcycleatthirtymilesanhour ontheroadtoDundigal,amongpeopledeeplyinvolvedinmanualskills,soclose totheearthandeachotherandsodifferentfromme,Icouldimaginemyselfasa mythicalbeing,agodindisguisethatmightpasstheirwayonlyonceinalifetime. MemoriesofMadras,ofashesandhoney,godsandtemples,werestronginme. InIndiaitisquiteplainthatthereismoretolifethanwhatthesensescan

perceive.IwasthinkingaboutmyplantomeetSaiBaba,theholyman, wonderinghowitcouldhappen. 'Thereisnocausetobother,'adevoteeadvisedme.'Hewillknow.Justgothere. Heknowseverything.Ifhewantstoseeyouitwillhappen.' ApparentlyhehadaheadquartersatabuildingcalledWhitelands,near Bangalore.Atcertaintimesofdayheappearedbeforehisfollowers.Iwouldgo there,butIwouldmakenootherattempttogetintouchwithhim.Ihadheardand readabouthismiracles,butIknewthatsuchthingscould,incertain circumstances,be'arranged'.Itseemedveryimportantnottogothereexpecting magic. Ifhe'knows'thenlethimcallmeout.Thatwillbemiracleenoughforme. Ismiledattheideaofithappening. Justimaginethathedoesknow,thatheknowsIamridingtowardshimnow,still severaldaysawaybutcomingcloserallthetime,untilfinallyIrideuptothis WhitelandsplaceandSaiBabafallstohiskneesbesidethemotorcycleandsays: 'MyGod.Youhavecomeatlast.' Thatwashowthenotionofbeingagodcametomeoriginally.Asajoke.Afterall, thereweresomanygodsinIndiaalready,insuchwildandwonderfulguises,why notagodonamotorcycle? Thesouthernhillswereagreatsurprise,risingtonearlyninethousandfeetand demolishingmynotionthatIndiasouthoftheHimalayaswasaflathottriangle.I rodeuptoKodaikanal,themoresoutherlyhillstationwherelogfiresroarinthe gratesatnightastheydidintheWhiteHighlandsofKenya,andthenoverthe CardamonHillstoCochintoenjoythesplendouroftheWestcoastandthegreen tidinessofKerala.ThenupagaintoOotacamund,whichtheBritishnicknamed 'Ooty'. AtthefootofthelastbigclimbtoOotyweregrovesofArecapalms,quite improbablygracefulandslenderfortheirgreatheight.Itseemedincrediblethat theycouldsupporttheweightofthemenwhoclamberedupthemtoreapthe betelcropfrombelowtheirfeatherycrowns,swingingfromonetoanotherlike monkeys.Thereweremonkeystoo,silverygreyoneswithlongfurrylimbs. Halfwayupthehill,Istoppedtocontemplatethem,myheadlightwiththought, recallingalltheothertimesIhadwatchedtheminAfrica,America,Malaysiaand mostrecentlyattheresthouseinMannar,whereIhadplayedwithoneforhours. Theyseemedsoclosetoenlightenment,asthoughatanymomenttheymight stumbleoveritandexplodeintoconsciousness.Theircuriosityisextreme.They experimentwithanyunfamiliarobject,acoin,ahat,apieceofpaper,justasa humanbabydoes,pullingit,rubbingit,stickingitintheirears,hittingitagainst otherthings.Andnothingcomesofit.Tobesoclose,yetnevertopiercetheveil! Ilookedatmyselfinthesamelight,asamonkeygivenmylifetoplaywith, proddingit,tryingtostretchitintodifferentshapes,droppingitandpickingitup again,suspectingalwaysthatitmusthavesomeuseandmeaning,tantalizedand frustratedbyit,butalwaysunabletomakesenseofit. IfIwereagod,thatishowIwouldviewmyself,Ithought.AttimesIfeltmyself comingveryclosetothatunderstanding,asthoughImightriseabovemyselfand see,atlast,whatitwasallabout.Thefeelingsthathadbeguntoforminthe Sudan,intheKarrooandtheZoGandatothertimesseemedtobecomingto fruitioninIndia.Alatentpowerofperceptionwasstirringinme.

Iwasastonishedbymyconfidencewithstrangers.OftenIwasabletotalkto themimmediately,asthoughwehadalwaysknowneachother.ForalongtimeI hadbeentrainingmyselftowantnothingfromotherstoacceptwhatwasoffered buttoavoidexpectation.Iwasfarfromproficient,buteventhebeginningsIhad madewererichlyrewarding.Icouldfeelthatpeopleappreciatedmypresence andevendrewsomestrengthfromit,andinturnthatfeelingstrengthenedme. TherewerethebeginningsofagrowthofpowerandIwasdeterminedtopursue it. Thejourneycontinued,asitalwayshad,withthiscloseinterweavingofaction andreflection.Iate,slept,cursed,smiled,rode,stoppedfor petrol,argued,bargained,wrote,andtookpictures.Imadefriendswithsome Germans,andsomeEnglish,andsomeIndians.Ilearnedaboutmushrooms, potatoes,cabbages,GoldenNematodes,Indianfarmersandelephants. ThethreadconnectingtheserandomeventswasTheJourney.Formeithada separatemeaningandexistence,itwasthewarponwhichtheexperiencesof eachsuccessivedaywerelaid.ForthreeyearsIhadbeenweavingonesingle tapestry.IcouldstillrecallwhereIhadbeenandsleptandwhatIhaddoneon everysingledayoftravellingsinceTheJourneybegan.Therewasanintensity andaluminosityaboutmylifeduringthoseyearswhichsometimesshockedme.I wonderedwhetheritmightbebeyondmycapacitytoholdsomuchexperiencein consciousawarenessatonetime,andIwasseriouslyafraidthatIwouldseethe fabricofthetapestrybegintorotbeforeIhadfinishedit.IthoughtImightbeguilty ofsomeoffenceagainstnatureforwhichIwouldbemadetopayaterribleprice. Wasitimproperforamerehumantoattempttocomprehendtheworldinthis way?Forthatwasmyintention.ThecircleIwasdescribingroundtheearthmight beerraticbutthefactremained,itwasarealcircle.Theendswouldmeetandit wouldenclosetheearth.Iwouldhavelaidmytracksroundthesurfaceofthis globeandattheenditwouldbelongtome,inawaythatitcouldneverbelongto anyoneelse.ItrembledabitatthefatesImightbetempting. Peoplewhothoughtofmyjourneyasaphysicalordealoranactofcourage,like singlehandedyachting,missedthepoint.Courageandphysicalendurancewere nomorethanusefulitemsofequipmentforme,likefacilitywithlanguagesor immunitytohepatitis.Thegoalwascomprehension,andtheonlywayto comprehendtheworldwasbymakingmyselfvulnerabletoitsothatitcould changeme.Thechallengewastolaymyselfopentoeverybodyandeverything thatcamemyway.Theprizewastochangeandgrowbigenoughtofeelonewith thewholeworld.Thedangerwasdeathbyexposure. InIndiaIwasonthelastandmostsignificantleg,andduringthelonghoursof solitaryridingmybrainshuttledbackandforth,delvingintothepastfornew connectionsandmeanings,synthesizing,analyzing,fantasizing,refiningand revisingmyideasandobservations.Thepatternonthetapestrystilleludedme, thoughitshimmeredsomewhereontheedgeofrecognition.WhatmustIdoto seeitclearly?MustI,likeIcarus,straponwaxwingsandflytothesun? Whateveritwas,Ifeltreadytotry,becauseIhadfinallytoadmitthatIwasin searchofimmortality. Thevitalinstrumentofchangeisdetachmentandtravellingalonewasan immenseadvantage.Atatimeofchangethetwoaspectsofapersonexist simultaneouslyaswithacaterpillarturningintoabutterfly,youhavetheimageof whatyouwereandtheimageofwhatyouareabouttobe,butthosewhoknow

youwell,seeyouonlyasyouwere.Theyareunwillingtorecognizechange.By theiractionstheytrytodrawyoubackintoyourfamiliarways. Itwouldbehopelesstotrytobecomeagodamongfriendsandrelations,any morethanamancanbecomeaherotohisownvalet.Itwaschillingtorealize thatthesentimentalqualitiesmostvaluedbetweenpeople,likeloyalty,constancy andaffection,aretheonesmostlikelytoimpedechange.Theyaresoobviously designedtocompensateformortality.Theoldgodsneverhadanytruckwith them. Kronos,theKingoftheancientGreekgods,beganhiscareerbycuttingoffhis father'speniswithasickleandtossingitintotheocean.Hewentontoswallow hisownchildrentomakesuretheydidnotunseathim.Zeus,thesonthatgot away,puthisfatherinchainsandhadhimguardedinexilebymonsters.There areendlesstalesofbetrayal,bloodyvengeanceandfearfuldismemberment. Zeus,whobecameJupiterinRomantimes,adopteddeceitfuldisguisesand committedrapeasacuckoo,aswanandabull,andhereignedoverOlympus morebycunningthanvirtue. TheIndiangodsseemedlittledifferentintheirownbehaviourbut,readingthe Mahabarata,IsawthatinIndianmythologytheybecamemorecloselyinvolved withmankindthandidtheGreekgods.Theyalliedthemselvestovariouswarring factionsandofferedadvice.ThebestknownexamplewaswhenLordKrishna becamethewarriorArjuna'scharioteer,drovehimtobattle,andencouragedhim inwordswhichhavebecomeknownastheBhagavadGita. Arjuna,ofcourse,wasfightingforgoodagainstevil,butmanygoodmenhad foundthemselvescompromisedandwereonthewrongside.ItsickenedArjuna tohavetokillhisownkithandkin,andhelostheart,thinkingthatitmustbe wrongtodoso.WhatKrishnatoldhimwasthathisprimarydutylayinbeingtrue towhathewas,awarrior,andnottobecrippledbysentimentalattachmentsto hisfamily.ThereisanelementalbrutalityaboutthisadvicewhichIfoundas thrillingasitseemedcruel.WhenIreadit,everylinestruckhome,andIrelived episodesofthejourneyvividly,recallingmyownfearsandconfusions. Heat,cold,pain,pleasure thesespringfromsensualcontact,Arjuna. Theybeginandtheyend. Theyexistforthetimebeing, youmustlearntoputupwiththem. Themanwhomthesecannotdistract, themanwhoissteadyinpainandpleasure, isthemanwhoachievesserenity. Theuntrueneveris, theTrueneverisn't. TheknowersofTruthknowthis. AndtheSelfthatpervadesallthingsisimperishable. Nothingcorruptsthisimperishableself. Luckyaresoldierswhostriveinajustwarforthemitisaneasyentranceinto heaven. Equatepainandpleasure,profitandloss,victoryanddefeat.Andfight. Thereisnoblamethisway. Thereisnowasteofhalfdoneworkinthis, noinconsistentresults.

Aniotaofthisremovesaworldoffear. Inthisthereisonlysinglemindedconsistency whiletheeffortsofconfusedpeople aremanybranchingandfullofcontradiction. Yourdutyistowork,nottoreapthefruitsofwork... Wantingthingsbreedsattachment, fromattachmentspringscovetousness, andcovetousnessbreedsanger. Angerleadstoconfusion andconfusionkillsthepowerofmemory. Withthedestructionofmemory,choiceisrenderedimpossible andwhenmoralchoicefails,manisdoomed. Themindistheapeofthewaywardsenses Theydestroydiscriminationasastormscattersboatsonalake. TheconceptoftheSelfseemedtoconnectwithmyownthoughtinSouthAfrica, ofbeingmadeofthestuffoftheuniverse,allpervadingandimperishable.The Truthwasinthestuffitself,revealedinthenaturalorderofthings.Youhaveonly tomergewiththeworldtoknowtheTruthandfindyourSelf. Thereareshapesandformswhichriseoutofthisnaturalorder.Trees,cavesand animalarchitectureleadnaturallytothatchedroofs,stonehousesandmudwalls. Ifyouknewthis,youwouldnotchoosetoputuparoofofcorrugatediron.Nor wouldyouthinkofthrowingaplasticbaginastream,notbecauseofwhatyou havebeentoldaboutpollution,butbecausetheideaofaplasticbaginastream isoffensiveinitself.Withoutthissenseofwhatisnaturallyfitting,youcanbe cleaninguptheworldwithonehandandspreadingpoisonwiththeother. ItsurprisedmetodiscoverthatthissenseofTightnessdoesnotappearnaturally inpeople,eventhoughtheyliveintheheartofnature.Inmyownvillagein Francethesamepeoplewhofishedthestreamsshovedeverypossiblekindof refuseandsewageintothem,evenwhenofferedconvenientalternatives.In Nepal,wherenotasingleengineorpowerlinedisturbsthemediaevalrusticityof theHimalayanvalleys,peopleshitintheirriverswithadogmaticpersistence ensuringthateveryvillageisinfectedbywhatthepeopleupstreamhavegot. TheTruthobviouslydoesnotrevealitselfunaidedtohumans.Ithastobe uncoveredbyaneffortofconsciousness.Or,morelikely,itonlyexistsinhuman consciousness.Withoutmanaroundtorecognizeit,thereisnoTruth,noGod. Yetisitnotconsciousnessthatgovernstheworld,norevenideology,not religiousprincipleornationaltemperament.Itiscustomthatrulestheroost.In Colombiaitwasthecustomtodomurderandviolence.Inaperiodoftenyears, sometwohundredthousandpeopleweresaidtohavebeenkilledbyactsofmore orlessprivateviolence.YetIfoundtheColombiansatleastashospitable, honourableandhumaneastheArgentinians,whosecustomismerelytocheat. Arabshavethecustomofshowingtheiremotionsandhidingtheirwomen. Australiansshowtheirwomenandhidetheiremotions.IntheSudanitis customarytobehonest.InThailanddishonestyisvirtuallyacustom,butsois givinggiftstostrangers. Everypossiblevariationofnudityandprudishnessisthecustomsomewhere,as witheatinghabits,toiletpractices,tospitornottospitandalmostallofthese customshavebecomeentirelyarbitraryandselfperpetuating.Aboveallitis customarytosuspectanddespisepeopleinthenextvalley,orstate,orcountry,

particularlyiftheircolourorreligionisdifferent.Andthereareplaceswhereitis customarytobeatwar,likeKurdistanorVietnam. Speakingofthemoreviciouscustoms,andofmenwhoshouldhaveknown better,St.FrancixXaviersaidalongtimeago:'Customistothemintheplaceof law,andwhattheyseedonebeforethemeverydaytheypersuadethemselves maybedonewithoutsin.Forcustomsbadinthemselvesseemtothesemento acquireauthorityandprescriptionfromthefactthattheyarecommonlypractised.' Customistheenemyofawareness,inindividualsasmuchasinsocieties.It regularizesthefearsandcravingsofeverydaylife.Iwantedtoshakethemoff.I wantedtousethisjourneytoseethingswholeandclear, forIwouldneverpassthiswayagain.Iwantedtoberidoftheconditioningof habitandcustom.Tobetheslaveofcustom,atanylevel,ismuchlikebeinga monkey,an'apeofthewaywardsenses'.Toriseaboveitisalreadysomething likebecomingagod. Withtheseelevatingthoughtsforminginmymind,Irodealongnarrowcountry roadsamongtreesinastateborderingonecstasy,andtheredidcomeamoment whenIwasactuallypreparedtotakeseriouslythepossibilityofsomesemidivine status.Atthatverymoment,whichIonlyrecognizedinretrospect,Iturneda cornerandcameuponasaddhu,atravellingholyman,hisforeheadsmeared withthecoloursofhisprofession,dragginghisbundlesontothenextshrine.He lookedupatmeasthoughhehadexpectedme,andhisfaceshowedpure distaste.ThenhespatvigorouslyinmypathasIpassedhimby. Thecommentcouldnothavebeenmoreappropriate.Ithadthesameelectric connectionwithmythoughtsthathadsoexcitedmeabouttheflyingfishonthe ZoG. Really,Itoldmyself,youcouldhardlyaskforamoreconvincingdemonstration, andItookthehint. Evenso,IdidgotoseeSaiBabaatWhitelands.Therewasawalledcompound thesizeofafootballpitch,witharainshelterinthemiddlethatcouldhousealot ofpeople.Theholymanapparentlylivedinanopulentvillaatoneendofthe garden,accessiblebyaflightofbroadstonesteps.Scatteredaroundnearthe villawereseveralkeenlynonchalantyoungmenofthekindyouseeworkingfor progressivecandidatesatAmericanconventions.Therewasanewbuildinggoing uptoo,handmadeintheAsiantraditionwithwomendoingmostofthework. Whenyouhaveseenwomenworkingacoalmineinsaris,nothinginthefieldof humanlabourseemsimprobable. IsatonthegroundamongamixedcrowdofIndiansandEuropeans,andoneof theguru'sstaffaskedmetotakeoffmyshoes.EventuallySaiBabacamedown thestepswithasmallgroupandinspectedthebuildingoperations.Laterhecame tolooktherestofusover.Helookedmuchashehadinthepictures,inhisankle lengthrobeofcrimson,andhisgreatheadoffrizzyblackhair,butheseemed anxiousandpreoccupied.Athinredlineofbeteljuicestainedhislips.Therewere nomiracles,andhedidnotevensmile.Helookedatusinthewayaworried farmermightexaminehiscropsforblight,andthenhedeparted.Ididnotformthe impressionthathewasGod,andheseemstohavebeenequallydisappointedin me. OnmywayupthecoastfromMangaloreIstoppedatKarwar,apoorfishingtown intheestuaryoftheKalinadiriver.Ifeltlikedrinkingabeer,butalcoholhadbeen

banishedtotheedgeoftown,inatumbledowneatinghousewhichIremembered afterwardsmainlyforapricelessfragmentofconversation.Thewaiterbrought fishandsaid: 'Yournativeplace?From?' London. 'Ah,Londonproper.Youaregoing?'I'mgoingtoGoa. 'Ah,Goagoing.Niceplace.MyfromisGoa.' Goaisquiteasbeautifulaseverybodysays,butIfounditchieflyinterestingfor whatIlearnedaboutpigs.ItistheexcellentcustominIndia,inthevillages,togo outinthemorningtowhicheverfieldhasbeenspeciallydesignated,andleave yourdailyshitwhereitismostneededtofertilizetheground.InGoaalsothis customisfollowed,butthereisaspecialproblem,becauseGoanese,unlikemost Indians,arecarnivorousandkeeppigs.Andpigs,asonemayormaynotknow, eatshit.AndthepigsofGoaareveryhungrypigs,sothatmanyanunwary personhasbeenknockedoffhistoesbyachargingporkerbeforethecompletion ofhisduties. Thiskindofinformation,whichmostpeoplearesadlyconditionedtothinkofas disgusting,formsabasicelementinthelifeofatraveller,justasitssubjectmatter isabasicelementinlifeitself.Theextraordinarytaboosthatwehaveraised roundthebusinessofshittingleadtofarmoredisgustingprejudicesbetween people,andalsotoquiteserioushealthproblems.Tobefreeofthatsenseof unreasoningdistasteIfoundtobeamajorliberation,onaparwithfreedomin sex. IdidnotrealizehowadvancedIwasuntilIreadastoryinanillustratedIndian magazineeditedbyKushwantSingh.Hehadalittleitem,headedTailpiece, aboutafamousIndianoperaticsopranowhohadjustdied.Herdebut,many yearsearlierbeforeaLondonaudience,hadfailedrathermiserably.Shehadnot beenabletobringanyconvictiontohersinging.Whenaskedafterwardswhat hadgonewrong,shesaidshehadnotbeenabletogetitoutofherhead,asshe lookedoutoverherdistinguishedaudienceintheWigmoreHall,thatallthese peoplesmearedtheirbottomswithpiecesofdrypaper. NotonlydidIthinkitveryfunny,butIcouldsympathizeentirelywithherpointof view.Anyonebroughtup,asIndiansare,tousewater,canseethattheWestern methodisquitebarbarouslyinefficient,whileonalongjourneythroughpoor countriesitbecomesuncomfortableandoffensive.Iwasoftenashamedofthe messthatthecivilizedeliteoftheWesternWorldleftbehindthemontheirtrail throughSouthAmericaandAsia,madealltheworsethroughbeingforcedto spendmostoftheirtimerunningforthelavatory. Iwasluckytohaveveryfewproblemswithitmyself.OnlyonceinIndiadidI explode,andthatwasaclearcutcaseoffoodpoisoninginarestaurantinBihar.I stoppedinseveralfieldsonmywaytoCalcutta,andcomposedapoemwhile contemplatingthelandscape. ThefoodinBiharisratherbizarre, OneshouldnotstrayfarafterlunchinBihar, Notevenasfarasthelocalbazaar, FornonecanoutrunthefoodinBihar. IwentonthroughBombayandnorthtoJaipurandDelhi,andfromthereIturned eastthroughKanpurtoGorakhpur,wherearouterunsnorthovertheHimalayan foothillstoPokharainNepal.

LuckilyIdidnothavetowastebreathorenergyonthingswhichoftengivevisitors toIndiasomuchtroubleandoffence.Iwasusedtopoverty,todifferentstandards ofhygiene,tothevisibleeffectsofdiseaseandmalnutrition.Iknewhowtoframe questionssothattheotherpersonwouldknowwhatanswerIexpected.Ididnot assumethatsomethingwaspossibleonlybecauseitseemedeasytome.I stoppedlookingforobjectivetruthandefficiency,andlearnedtovalueother thingsinstead.AndIlovedthefood. IbecamesaturatedwithIndianattitudes,butalwaysthereweremoresurprises. InBombayIsawanewlyreleasedAmericanfilm,fullofviolenceandshootings. InEuropeIwouldhaveshruggeditoff,butthereitmademesquirmandchoke withhorror.Whatmadetheaudienceshuddermost,though,wasahappyscene inwhichthecowboyheromarkshiscattlewithabrandingiron. Isawwomenmakingahighway,byhand,circulatinginvastnumberslikebeasts ofburdenwithbasketsofgranitechipsontheirheadsundertheindifferenteyeof amalesupervisor.Itseemeddehumanizing,butatleasttheyhadworkofsorts. Isaweverykindofloadcarried.Everykindofprocessioncamemyway.Every kindofanimaldreweverykindofcart,andeverykindofvehicleeitherpassedme orlayinruinsbytheroadside. InAhmedabad,twowomencametowardsmelikeyokedoxentowingaheavily loadedcart.Bothworethesamesarisandbodicesofredandyellow.Theirheads andfaceswerecompletelywrappedinsaffronmuslin.Theyweremovingwith extraordinaryvigour,andmadeanunforgettablesight.Itwasimpossibleto believe,becauseoftheirveryvitality,thattheyweresuffering. OnthewayfromGorakhpurtoNepal,onalong,silent,emptycountryroad,came asightIneverthoughttoseeinthishalfofthecentury:twowiry,barefootedmen inskyblueturbansandshawlsjoggingalongwithalitterontheirshoulders.I stopped,transfixed,astheywentpast.Theplushredcurtainsofthelitterwere drawnopen.Insideayoungmansatcrosslegged,idlyregardingthecountryside. HewasdressedinEnglishclothesandwaswearingablazerandanoldschool tie. ButIcouldnotacceptwhatIsawinBombay,whenIwastakenpastthe'cages'.I staredgoggleeyedatprostitutesapparentlyenslavedbehindgreatirongrillsset intothedoorways.Ifoundtheposturingwomen,theheavyironbars,the theatricallightinginsidetheseprisons,sogrotesquethatmymindwouldnot graspitasreality. InKanpur(orCawnporeastheBritishspelleditinthedaysoftheMutiny)Istayed attheoldOrientHotel.Itwasinadisgracefulstateofdilapidation.Myroomwas oneofanumberofcardboardboxesputupinsideaoncegrandballroom,andI couldheartheratsscamperingacrossthedancefloor.Thefacilitieswere abysmal,butonefeatureoftheolddayshadbeenkeptintact.Twobeautifully maintainedbilliardtablesgleamedunderbrilliantlightsinaroombehindthebar, andsometownswellswereplayingahighlyaffectedgame. Oneofthemlookedasthoughhebelongedinacigaretteadvertisementofthe twenties.Hisblackhairwasplastereddownflat.Heworealittle patternedbowtie.Hischecktweedjacketwassquareshoulderedandas immaculatelypressedasthoughitwereonashopwindowdummy.Heheld himselfabsolutelyrigidabovethewaist,andglidedbackandforthlikeatango dancer.

TheotherplayerworemoretraditionalIndianclothingalongwhiteshirt,baggy trousersbroughtintightabovetheknees,alongandluxuriouscamelhair waistcoat,allwornwithsuchstyleandarrogancethatIfeltlikeapplauding.In fascinationIwatchedastheyswaggeredandsported,sippingatbarely concealedillegaldrinks,theirfacesbusywiththenonstopritualofknowing glances.TheyspokeHindi,butamasterfulshotwasacclaimedinEnglishwith thequaintcryof'Well!'Theyseemedtobetrappedintheirowncreationofsome bygonesportingera,andIdidnotseehowtheywouldeverbeabletoescape. JustbeforemidnightIwentoutforawalk.Thebroadstreetwasblackandempty, thealleywaysimpenetrable.Ahugeadvertisementleereddownfromthefacade abovemyhead,showinganIndiancoupleinswimmingtrunksandbikini,and announcing: STOMACHGAS&SEXPROBLEMS.CONSULTDR.WHOSIT. Atrainofwagonswascomingtowardsme.Theyweredraysmovingsilentlyon rubbertyres,eachonedrawnbytwowaterbuffalo.Thedrayswerelongflat platformswithoutsides,andlitteredwithsacking.Therewereeightofthem, makingaverylongtrain,andeachonehadadriver,almostinvisibleundercotton wrapsandheadcloth.Onlythefirstdriverseemedtobetrulyawake,andhisstick madearegulardullthwackagainstthebuffalohide. Heavenknowshowfartheyhadcomeorhowfartheyweregoing.Amongthe sacksIsawotherpeasantssleeping,andIguessedtheywerereturningtotheir villagesafterdeliveringproduce.Thebuffaloeslookedmorethanusually mournfulinthenight,withtheirlongnecksstrainingoutinfrontofthem,heads lollinghopelessly,heavyblackbodiesploddinglowtotheground,makinghardly anysoundonthetar. Themovementwasasinexorableasitwasslow,andIstoodandwatcheduntil thelastofthelonglinehadvanishedintothecoldDecembernight.Theycame intomylifeandleftitlikeghostsfromthepastandIwasdeeplymoved. OnmywaybackIsawaman,patheticandshiveringinthreadbarecotton, prayingtoademonicredfigureofKaliinatinystonetemplenexttoagarage.A littlefurtheralongamanwithadistractedairinthintrousersandshirtattacked mewiththestoryofhismisery. 'Youhaveonerecourse,'hesaid,harshly.'Togivemesomethingforfood.I haven'teatenallday.'SomethinginwhatIhadexperiencedthateveningmadeit impossibleformetogiveanything.Hislastshoutedappeal'Forhumanity'ssake' andmydesperate,dismalresponse,'You'llhavetosortyourselvesout'stayed withmeliketwinechoesthroughthenight. ItwasimportanttometogiveonlywhenIfeltlikeit.Itriednevertoletasenseof guiltorconsciencedrivemetoit,forthenIwouldneverknowwhetherIwantedto ornot.HappilythereweresomeoccasionswhenIdidwanttogive,thoughnot verymany. Iwasabeggarmyself,ofcourse,inthesensethatImademyselfveryobviously availabletohospitality,anditwasgenerouslyoffered.Theprize,Isuppose,must havebeenthetwonightsIspentinthepalaceoftheMaharajahofBaroda.My friendsinMadrashadknowntheMaharajah(orstrictlyspeaking,theex Maharajah,sincethetitlewasofficiallyextinct)andsuggestedImentionhis name.Iarrivedfullofcuriosity,notknowingwhattoexpect,andwasdirectedfirst tothewrongpalacewhichwasfullofsoldiers.However,theysentmeintheright

direction,andIcametoanapparentlyendlessandtoweringrailingalongsidea road,andatlastagate. Itseemedoddthatthegateshouldbeopenedandunguarded,butIwentin, downapotholeddriveamongtreesandbushesuntilthepalacecameinsight.It wasquiteanoverwhelmingsight,notsimplybecauseitwasenormousand seemedtofillmyentirefieldofvisionwhenIcameuponit,butbecauseofthe breathtakingdetailthatfilledeverypartofthefacade.Thereweresomanywings, eventhewingshadwings,thatforagoodwhileIcouldseenowaytogetatit. OnlylaterdidIrealizethatIwaslookingatthebackofthepalaceandthatthe reallyimpressivefacadewasroundtheotherside. AsIrodeandwalkedupanddownthegravel,puzzledbythesilenceandthe apparentabsenceofadoorway,twofiguresappearedononeofahundred balconiesoverlookingthedrive.Theylookedraggedanddisreputable,andin everywayinappropriatetoallthemagnificencearoundthem.InfactIthoughtat firstIhadcaughttwohousebreakersatwork.Theywereprobablyhavingsimilar thoughtsaboutme.Oneofthemshouteddown:'Whatdoyouwant?'They obviouslywerekeentokeeptheirdistance. IwanttoseetheMaharajah,'Ishoutedback.Itfeltquiteridiculous.Theylooked likeacoupleofvillains.Iwasablackandgreasybikerafterthelongridefrom Bombay.Ishouldhavebeenatthebackofaslumtenementshouting'TellBert thecopsareontohim.' 'Nothere,'themanreplied.'HisHighnessnothere.' Iwentonatthetopofmyvoiceingreatdetailaboutmyconnectionsand ambitions,knowingthathedidnotunderstandmebuttryingtoenticehimdown. Eventuallyitworked.MyauthenticEnglishaccentmusthavedonethetrick. Isawtherewasnothingvillainousabouthimatall.HewastheIndian versionofafaithfuloldretainer,andhemanagedtoexplainthattheestatewas nowmanagedfromanofficeacrosstheroad,notfaraway.Hegavemeaglass ofwater,andanotescribbledinGujarati.Iwentofftofindtheoffice,andmetthe Maharajah'sbrotherandayoungengineercalledAshwinMehta.Wetalked pleasantlyforawhile,andIlearnedthattheMaharajah,whowasalsoanM.P., wasinNewDehli,andthatthepalacewashardlyusedthesedays. AshwinsaidtherewasmuchtobeseeninBarodaandthathewouldshowme around,andtheMaharajah'sbrothersaidIshouldstayatthepalacemeanwhileif Iliked.Ihadnodifficultyaccepting.InduecourseIwentbacktowashand change,andwentthroughthefrontentranceintoahallbigenoughtocontain mosthouses.Therewasnodoor,foritwasneverneeded.Itwasnevercold,and privacybeganalongwayawayattheboundariesoftheimmenseestate. Therewereseveralbearersinwhitecottonliverywithbarefeetandstylish cockadesintheirhats,althoughitwasaskeletoncrewcomparedwithwhatmust oncehavemannedthismonster.Theypaddedaheadwithmypeculiarbitsof luggagewhileIclumpedafterthemindirtybootsunderthedisapprovingstaresof variousancestors.Ihadtworooms,equallylarge.Onewasthebedroom,the otherthebathroom.TheyoverJlookedoneofseveralbeautifulcourtyards trappedwithinthefabricofthebuilding,crammedwithpalmsandfountains. Mybedwasafourposterinsidealittleroomofitsownmadeofgauzymosquito netting.Abearersleptontheflooroutsidemybedroomdooratnight.Itwouldbe pointlessandunnecessarytopretendthatIwasenjoyingthesameluxurythatthe princesonceofferedtoguestsattheheightoftheirpower.Tohavetriedto

recreateormaintainthattodaywouldbeabsurdandimpossible.WhatIsawthere inthatshortstay,theprofusionofmarble,bronzeandmosaic,theinfinite corridors,theechoinghalls,thehugeaudienceroomwithchairsforfivehundred people,andtheExecutioner'sswordhangingoverthemall,wasenough.My imaginationcouldsupplytherest. Isatthereonmysecondnight,amidstallthismagnificence,penningaletteron theMaharajah'sstationeryandthinkingthatitwasjustaswellthatIhadalso sleptinaprison.IthelpedmetofeelthatIdeservedit. BythetimeIcameoutofAssamintoWestBengalinFebruary1977,my memoriesofIndiaalonewerebeginningtooverwhelmme.ARoyalBengalTiger stalkingthelonggrassatsunset.Areligiousprocessionwindingdowna mountainside.Awildtribaldance.Meninloinclothshuntingwithbowsand arrows.TibetantraderswalkingthetrailsfromMustang.Awildcatoilrigdriving downintotherockontheBurmeseborder.ThesublimemusicofoneofIndia's greatestmusiciansplayingonlyfivefeetawayfrommeinaprivatecelebration.A nightlostinarhododendronforestateleventhousandfeet.Theastonishing opencastcoalmineatMargherita.Theperiodopulenceoftheteaestates.Anall nighttheatricalproductionbyatouringcompanyofIndianplayersinatent.On andontheywent,andwiththemthedailypressureofIndiaandthecrowdthat gatheredroundmeeverytimeIstopped.GraduallyIgotusedtoconsideringmy lifeaspublicproperty. 'ExcusemeSir?Yournativeplaceis?Londonproper,isit?MayIintrude?I.J. Krishnan,currentlycompletingBScatBHU.AndyourgoodnameSir?Youare married?Isee,youarebachelor?Yourageisplease?Whyareyounotmarried? Whereisyourfamily?Whatareyourqualifications?Howareyouabletoleave yourfamilyforsolong?Yourjourneymustbecostingalotofmoney.Areyouin governmentservice?Thenhowpleaseareyoupayingforallthis?' WhenitgottothemarriagequestionIwasoftentemptedtopleadimpotenceor homosexuality,butthejokewouldcertainlyhavefailed.Iletthewaveswashover me.Pointlesstowasteeffortintryingtobeatthemback.Butgraduallytheywore medownanyway. TheroadfromAssammeetstheGangesanddividesintwo.Oneforkcontinues downstreamtoCalcutta.TheotherrunsupstreamtowardsBenares.Thelogical routetotakewasupstreamtowardsthesplendidheartofIndia,butIresistedit.I wastiredandfeltthreatenedbyallthatexposure.TherewereEuropeanfriends passingthroughCalcuttaandIcravedtheircompany,wishingtoescapefrom Indiaforawhile. SoIfollowedmycravingtoCalcuttaandsomewherealongthewayFateseized meandsentmeoffontheotherroadtowardsBenares.Notuntilthelate afternoondidIrealizemymistake.Gracelesslyatfirst,IsurrenderedtoIndiaand themultitude.AsIadvancedintoBihar,oneofthepoorestandmostpopulous statesintheIndianunion,themultitudethickenedandtheweavesgrewstronger, butFatewasstillworkingitsmagictoo. HowelseshouldIhavebeenledtoahotelinPatnawhoseownerwasaglider pilotandwhoinsistedontakingmeupwithhim?ForbreathlessminutesIfound myescapefromIndiabywhirlingaboveitinthecompanyofthosebigbrown birds.AndwhyelseshouldIfindmyselfnowhavingmyfuturetoldtomeata Rajputwedding? 'YouareJupiter,'hesaid.

Ofallthegodsinthepantheon,JupiteristheoneIfancymost.Alovelyname, Jupiter,likecreamandhoneyinthemouth.Andasenseofgreatdistanceand closenessatthesametime. Hewasarainmaker,andIhavemademorethanmyshareofrain.Thenhewas famousforhisthunder,whichisappropriatetooforagodonamotorcycle,and(if it'sfairtomixhimupabitwithZeus)Iliketheideaof appearinginallthosedisguises.Ihavebeenchangingmyshapequiteoftenas well. Allinall,IwouldquiteliketobeJupiter,ifitisnottoolate... 'YouareJupiter,'hesaid,'butforsevenyearsyouhavebeenhavingconflictwith Mars.'Ofcourse.Itwasjustamisunderstanding.Hewastalkingabouttheplanet. 'Thistroublinginfluencewillgoonfortwomoreyears.'Hisgriponmyhand remainedfirmandconvincing,andIdidnotresist.Iwantedittobeimportant. 'Duringthesetwoyearsyouwillhavetwoaccidents.Theywillnotbemajor accidents,buttheywillnotbeminoreither.' Really,Ithought,that'sstretchingmycredulityabit.Ihardlyneedafortuneteller topredictaccidents,withtenthousandmilesstilltoride.Buthedidsaytwo.Not major?Notminor? 'Afterthisperiod,whenyouarenolongerinfluencedbyMars,allwillbewell.You willhavegreatsuccessandhappiness.' Iabsorbedthemessage.Twoyearsofstrifeandaccident,andthenprosperity andhappinesseverafter. 'Youoweeverythingtoyourmother,'hesaid.DidItellRajIwastheonlysonofa divorcedmother?Imusthavetoldsomeone. 'Youhaveaweakholdontheaffectionsofwomen.Sheistheonlyonewhowill giveyouwholeheartedsupport.' Igazedhardthenatthisgrave,composedmaninthebrownbusinesssuitsitting nexttomeinthefrontseaofhiscaroutsideaweddingtent,tryingtopenetrate hismeaning.Itsoundedwrong,absolutelywrong,likethereversesideofa familiarcoin.Yettherewassomethingveryrighthiddeninitsomewhere.Iwas impressedbyhim,Ifelthewasreallytrying,andafterallitwasnothingtohim. Noneofthemwouldeverseemeagain.Hewasjustabusinessmanaboutto leaveforhisofficeinPatna. Thereweremorepleasantremarksaboutmystrengthanddetermination.We exchangedsolemncomplimentsandhedroveoff. TenmilesbeyondGayaisBoddhgaya,theplacewhereBuddhapreachedhisfirst sermonunderatree.Atreestandsonthespotnow,thoughnot,Ithink,thesame tree.Aboveandaroundthetree,agreattempleandstupahasbeenbuilt. Somewherenearby,everyBuddhistnationisalsorepresentedbyatemple,and refugeforpilgrims.Therefugesareaustereandcheaptolivein.Theyoffer shelterandtranquillity,andinthedryhotspringofBihar,thatisalloneneeds. ThefirstoftheserefugesontheroadfromGayaistheBurmeseVihar,andithad beenrecommendedtome.TwomonksmademewelcomeandItookthebikein throughthebigwroughtirongate.Theoriginalbuildingonmyrightfaceda squaregardenofratherstragglyshrubsandvegetables,andalongeachside, betweenthegardenandthehighwallsthatenclosedtheVihar,rantworowsof smallbrickcubicles.Itwasverypopular,andtheplacewasfullofpeoplefrom

everycontinent,butaremarkableatmosphereofgoodnaturedcalmpervadedall ofit. Ihadoneofthecubiclestomyself,whichgavemeroomtoputdownmythings andcookformyself,andawideplanktosleepon.ItwasallIneeded.Inthearea roundthehousewasatableunderabigshadetree,andIsatthereandwrotean articlefortheapproachingelectionsinIndia.AThaimonkwasofferingcoursesin YogaandMeditation,andItookthosetoo.Therewastimeforeverything,and timetospare.ThosewerethelastperfectlypeacefuldaysIspentonthejourney andfarthemostpromisingofall. IarrivedinCalcuttaslightlyweakenedbyfoodpoisoning,andwenttogroundin SudderStreet,attheSalvationArmyhostel,wheresomanypoortravellersstay. Myhealthwaseasilyrestored,butIhadtoacknowledgethatmyenergywasnot replenishingitselfanymore.Thefeeling,liketheclimate,wasreminiscentof Panama,twoyearsearlierandthirtythousandmilesback,butIhadtorecognize thatthistimethelethargywasmoredeeplyestablished. Therewasnoeasyremedy,soItriedselfindulgence.InacornerofSudder Streetfacingthehostelstood,andnodoubtwillstandforever,atwostarbastion oftheRaj,theFairlawnHotel.Bymystandardsitwasfartooexpensive.EvenifI hadthoughtitworththepricetostaythereandconfirmthattheEmpirewaspast itsprime,Ididnotactuallyhavethemoney. However,Icouldaffordtositinthegardenanddrinkalemonsoda.Ibreached thebigwoodengatesandsatatanirontableunderasprayofblossom,alonein thegroundsandsoothinglyremotefromthecity'sbusiness. Ittookthebeareralongtimetofindmeamongallthetreesandtrellises,thoughI hadseeneyespeeringinmydirectionfromthereceptiondeskforsomewhile. WasIperhapsunsuitablydressedfortheFairlawn,Iwondered.Afterall,Ihad shaved,andthepatternofmyshirtwasstillrecognizablethroughthegrime.AndI mightbedownonmyluckbut,dammit,IwasstillanEnglishman. 'Bringmealemonjuiceandabottleofsoda,'Isaid,almostadding'andmakeit snappy!' Thebearerreturnedwithmyorder(whatelsecouldhedo?)andopenedthe bottleonthetable.Iwaitedforthecheerfulsparkle,thegayeffervescencethat wouldzestfullychallengeCalcutta'ssoggynoon. Nothinghappened.Onebubblestruggledwearilyupthroughtheliquidand lodgeditselfinthemeniscus,lackingthewilltoburst. Itwasanunimportantmatter,andIwouldhaveleftit,exceptthatitgavemean opportunityforconversationandIwascurious.Ihadalreadynoticedan elaboratelycoiffedheadofhairbobbingaboutbrisklyinthereceptionarea.I knewthehotelbelongedtoanoldIndianArmyman,andIthoughtthismustbe thememsahibherself.IthoughtshemightbeamusedbymystoryandI saunteredoverwiththebottledanglingfrommyfingertips. Shewasdressedandmadeupinamannerthatleftnodoubtabouthowshesaw herusefulnessinthisworld.Here,Itoldmyself,isawomanwholikestomaintain standards,andIresolvedtohelpher.Imentionedthepaucityofbubblesinmy sodawater,andsheflewintoarage. Iwasamazed.MyremarkhadbeenaslightanddebonairasIcouldmanageit, asiftosay'What'sinabubble?Afterall,we'reBritish.' Herragewasallthemoreviolentforbeingfearfullycontrolled.

'Therehasneverbeenanysicknessherefromwater,'shecried.Neveroncein livingmemory,notsincetheMutiny,notsinceJohnCompanyfirstsetfootonthis subcontinent,notonceeverhadanybodychallengedthewaterattheFairlawn. 'Andyouarenotevenstayingwithus!' UselesstoexplainthatthepurityofthewaterwasnotinquestionthatIwas merelyreportingaminormatterofbubbletrouble.Sheshookandwentlividand pucebyturns.Ibegantosuspectotherrootstoherdistress.Perhapsshehad detectedaworkingclassinflectioninoneofmyvowels.Shegatheredherselfup, finally,toadministertheblowthatwouldsendmereelingoffthepremises. 'Allourwater,I'llhaveyouknow,comesdirectlyfromTheSaturdayClub.'Iwas renderedspeechless,sinceIhadneverheardofit.Itwasthecoupdegrace,but shecouldnotleavewellalone. 'Andifthatisnotgoodenough,'shewenton,'youcanspeaktomyhusband.' 'Ah,'Isaid.'That'sagoodidea.WhereisTheColonel?''Upstairs,'shesaid grimly.Igotonefootonthefirststep,butherstaffsurroundedme. 'No,Sir.Please.No.ThiswaySir,pleasecome,'andwithafreshbottleofsoda theyenticedmebacktomytable. Itriedonanotherdaytodrinkabeerinthegarden,knowingthatothershad succeeded,butthebearerinformedmefrigidlythatitwasadrydayatthebar.I darednotapproachthedeskagain.AdogwitheyeslikecartwheelsIcanface, butaniratememsahib,never. IcouldnotgetagraspofCalcutta.Itseemedtoeludeme.OnlyafterwardsdidI wonderwhetherperhapsIhadbeenmisledbyitsreputationintoexpecting somethingelse.Ivisitedthatkindestofinstitutions,theHomefortheDestitute andDyingsetupbyMotherTheresa,butfarfromfindingitshocking,Ithoughtit wasagooddealmorepleasantandbetterorderedthananaverageIndian railwayplatform.IdraggedmyselfoutacrosstheawfulHowrahbridgeinto variouspoorareas,butsawnothingthatwasconspicuouslyworsethanwhatI wasalreadyaccustomedto. Iwasnotovercomebygrislysightsorintolerablesmells.Nobodyfelldeadatmy feet.WhenIcametoreadFreedomatMidnightandotherdramaticWestern accountsofIndianlife,withtheirconstantemphasisonreekandstenchand teemingmasses,death,diseaseandsubhumansqualor,Iwasoutragedbythe carelessassumptionthatonlytheWesternnoseandeyecanjudgewhatisfitfor humans. SeveraltimesonmywaythroughIndiaIhadaskedtobetakentotheworstslum, expectingtheworst.Eachtime,asIenteredamongthecolonyofmakeshift shacksIcouldseeonlyindividualfamiliesdoingwhattheycouldwithwhatthey had,andIbecameabsorbedinthedetailoftheirlives.Itwasashocktorecall that,thirtyyearsbefore,IhadvisitedfamiliesinLondoninaNorthKensington slumareawhosecircumstanceshadcertainlybeenmuchworse,fortheyhadto copeinadditionwithcoldwintersandlivinginundergroundbasements. Butatthetime,inCalcutta,myspiritsbeingsomewhatdeflated,Iassumedmy ownjudgementwasatfaultinnotappreciatingtheepicqualityofCalcutta's miseries,andIdecidedtogetout. TherouteIhadplannedtookmebackonemoretimetotheBayofBengalatPuri andatKonarak.Powerfulwindswereblowinginfromthebay,andathinveilof sandparticleshoveredoverthelongbeachestogivethelightanunearthly feeling.Throughthiseeriebrightness,Igazedatabandonedsummervillashalf

buriedindunes,turretedandcrenellated,pastelcolouredIndianGothicremains, seeminglyuntouchedfordecadesandinterminaldecay,exceptthatbeingin Indiaitwouldnothavesurprisedmetoseethefamilyresumeoccupancyatany time. Ifoughtbriefbattleswithenormouswaves,gazedatmildlyeroticcarvingsand sleptalot,gatheringstrengthforthelastcurlinmyspiralcoursethroughIndia.I wasdeeplyconsciousofthefactthatfromhereonIwouldbeheadingdirectly towardsEurope,butfirstIhadtocrosstoNagpur,atthegeographicalcentreof India.ThesefifteenhundredmilesfromPuritoDelhiworriedme.Alreadyonmy wayfromCalcuttaIhadfelttheheatintheair,greaterthanIhadimagined possibleforApril.IntheheartofIndia,ontheDeccanplain,itwouldbehotterstill, muchhotter. ShortlyafterIsetoutthechainbroke,auniqueeventinmyexperience.Itwas nothinglikethedisasterIhadalwaysanticipated.Nodamagewasdone.Anyway, ithadbrokenonthejoininglinkwhichwaseasilyreplaced,butitdrewmy attentionagaintothestateoftherearsprocket: Alltheteethwerebadlyblunted,worndown,asitwere,almosttothegums,and somewerebrokenoffaltogether.NowIhadsomethingtoworryabout. Sprocketlessness,likescurvy,soundsfunny,butitadvancedstagescanprove fatal.AsIrepairedthechainIrecalledthetwoaccidentsIhadbeenpromisedand addedthemtomyanxieties.Soonafter,theheatbecameunbearable.Itstruck measthoughfromablastfurnace,andforthefirsttimeIfoundthatthefasterI rode,thehotterIgot. Itookrefugeinaroadsideteahouse,andateportionsofcurriedpeasand spinachanddalfromchippedenamelplates,scoopingitupwithpuriandchapati. Itwasafterfourintheafternoonbeforetheheatwaveredanddipped.Ihadnever travelledbynightbefore.Ithadseemedpointlessanddangerous,butnowI realizedthattherewasnootherway,andIstartedwithveryrealmisgivings. Theunfamiliaritywasfrighteningatfirst.Ihadneverlikedtoputfaithinroad surfaces,andhereitwasunavoidable.Onecouldnothopetopickupeverypot holeinsuchpoorlight.Thereweremanybigtrucksmovingatnight,andthey wereasunpredictableatnightasbyday.Inadditiontheroadswereallunder reconstruction.Forhundredsofmilestheywereregularlyinterruptedbyculvert constructionstochannelfloodwater,andtemporarydiversionsdivedoffintothe sandandstoneofthesurroundingcountryside.Itseemedtomethatallthis, combinedwithanalmostbaldfronttyreandawornchainonatoothlesssprocket, mustconspiretoproduceanaccidentsomewhere. Perhapstheclairvoyantsavedme.IwasdamnedifIwasgoingtofulfilhis prophecysoquickly.AsthehourspassedIgrewmoreadeptatrecognizing hazards,andbegantofeelmoreconfident.IwassurprisedtofindIhadcovered morethanthreehundredmilesinthefirstleg,andthenightjourneydeveloped intoarelaxedandinterestingexperience. Lifeinthetownsandvillagescontinuedfarintothenight,andIcameoutofthe darkflatscrublandintobrilliantcitystreetsorbustlingvillagecorners. OnthefirstdayIfoundaroomintheInspectionBungalowatPithora.Theother roomwasoccupiedbyaCAREofficial.Hesaidhewasadoctorhelpingthe GovernmentofMaharashtratosetupanutritionprogramme,andwashimselfa sleeklyobeseadvertisementfornutrition. 'Youarefrom?'hesaid.

'Youmeannow,'Iasked,'ororiginally?' 'No,no,'hesaid,irritably.'Youarefrom?' Afterthatheseemedtoloseinterest.Iwenttothebacktocookbreakfastand foundthatacrowhadbrokenandeatenoneofmyeggs.Isleptthroughthe afternoon,andleftatdusk,makingadetourthroughBagbharatogetpetrol.At GhorariIstoppedatachaishopforteaandcurry. 'So,howdoyoulikemyIndia?'inquiredmyneighbour,aretiredtaxinspectorwith awizenedfaceandapatronizingmanner.Itriedtogivesomekindofanswerto hisquestion,butitwasneitherexpectednorwanted. 'Youwillnotbeabletounderstand,'hesaidwithsmugcertainty,'itwilltakeyou toolong. 'Inthecourseofmyduties,'hewenton,'Ialsohavebeentravelling.Ihavebeen toAustralia.Thereareminordifferencesofcustomnaturally,butotherwiseI wouldsaywearethesame.Yes,IndiansandAustraliansarethesame.' Itwasanastonishingsuggestion. 'YoumusthavebeeninAustraliaalongtimetohaveknownthemsowell,'Isaid, butofcoursehedidnothearme. AtthepanstallnextdoorItriedtobuycigarettes,buttherewasnobodytoserve me.IlingeredabitandthenaskedmynewfoundmentorwhetherImightleave themoneyandtakeapacket.Hethrewuphishands. 'Oh,no,goodgentleman,'hesaid.'ThisisIndia.' IrodeontoRaipurandfoundcigarettesatashopoutsideahotel.WhilethereI thoughtImightaswellusethelavatory.Thecubiclewasalreadyoccupiedbya manaimingajetofurineintothebowl.Hehadleftthedooropenandhelooked upasIapproached. Tammakingwater,'hetoldmesolemnly.'Youwishtodoso?' ThewholeofIndiasuddenlystruckmeaswildlyfunny,andIwentonlaughing mostofthewaytoNagpur. ThefollowingeveningatJabalpurImetanotherIndianwhohadbeentoAustralia. IhadnoideasomanyIndianshadgonethere.Hewasaprosperouslooking fellowridingascooterthewayamerchantbankermightsometimesbicycletothe City.WehadabeertogetherinanIndianhonkytonkbehindaWineStore.He wasverynostalgicaboutAustralia,andhadjustboughtafarm,'justasahobbyto remindme'. Tamgoingtotrainmonkeystoshooofftheneighbour'scattle,'hetoldme.'Well, whynot?Ifdogs,whynotmonkeys?' Mysurprisemusthaveshownonmyface. EventuallyIcametoAgrabywayofKhajurao.TheTajMahalwasentirelyworth visitingdespiteitsreputation,andevenmoreworthlisteningtoo.Thesighsofa millionspiritsdrifteddowninsidefromtheechoingdome. IwatchedyoungIndiancouplescomein,noisilyalive,wantingtomaketheirmark onthissacredcowofarchitecture.Iftheycouldhavecarvedtheirnamesintothe marble,theywouldhavehadthebuildinginshredsveryquickly.Insteadthey flungtheirvoicesattheceiling,youngmendrunkwithpower,youngwomen drunkwithhope,wantingthat momentofimmortalitywhentheTajwouldspeakwiththeirvoice.Butnosooner wasthevoicelaunched,thaneverythingthatwassharp,personalandassertive initwaslost,anditbecameamournfulghosttomingleforeverwiththegrey legionsabove.

Iwalkedaroundthegrounds,talkedtosomestonemasonsandwatchedtheirdeft workonthebigredslabsofstonetheyweredecorating.Inthearcadeoutside, afterthreeandahalfyearsofthinkingaboutit,IboughtapairofsandalsthatI couldactuallywear,andwalkedinthemtoseethefort. Butthefortwasclosedtothepublicandsurroundedbyarmy. 'Ahundredandtwentyministersfromforeigncountriesarevisiting,'anofficertold me.Iwalkedonlettingmyannoyancedissolveinthemeltingpotofthebazaar, amongoxcarts,horsecarts,cabs,handbarrows,cyclesandrickshaws.Knowing thatIwouldnotbeapartofthisconfusionformuchlonger,Isatonaboxinan openstorewithabottleoflemonadeandwatchedthestreet.Thebottlehada pinchedneckandaglassmarbleasavalve,abrilliantdevice,almostforgotten sincemychildhood.Indianlifeflowedpastme,afeastofcolouranddetail,won derfulinthesheerbreadthofthespectrumofhumancircumstancethatis paradedthere. Iwalkedonupthehillinthethrongofvehiclesandpedestrians.Aportionofnoise slightlylouderthantherestmademeturn,andIsawahorsecabcomingupthe rise. Thehorsewasapowerfulwhitebeast,fullofnervousenergy,thrashinginthe shaftsandtossingitshead.Thedriver,too,wasyoungandflushedwithenergy andexcitement,urgingtheanimalupthehill,ayoungMusliminrobeandturban, sleevessweptback,risingupandreachingforwardwithhiswhip,eyesglowing withpride.Thecabwasheavilyloadedwithpassengersandsacksofgrain,all Muslimsinturbanandrobe. Thecomponentsofthetragedycametogetherbeforemyeyes.Thecabwas goingtoofast,thehorsewastoowild.Isawthreetinygirls,scarcelykneehigh, thoughtheyweregradedone,two,three,afewinchesapart,perhapssisters separatedbyayear,allidenticallydressedasminiaturemothersinanglelength reddresses,voluminouslypleatedfromthewaistwithmachineembroidered bodices,cheapdressesfortheywereclearlypoorgirlsandbarefooted,but happilyclutchingeachotherandchatteringmadlytogetherastheydartedacross theroadamongthelegsofthecrowd,afewfeetfromwhereIhadstoodand turned.Thecrowdparted,swiftly,torevealthehorsetheyhadnotheardandthey fellinasinglebundle,asthoughtheirdresseswerestitchedtogether,one,two, three,andIwatchedthewheeloftheheavycabriseslowlyovertheirbodies. Themomentfroze.Thebigwoodenspoked,irontyredwheelboredown.Then timeflowedonandthewheelslippedbacktotheground.Menstartedforwardto rescuethegirls.Thedriverstumbledtothegroundandhorroroverwhelmedhim. Heclaspedhishandsandfelltohiskneesandraisedhisarmsandfacetothe skyshoutingformercy.Hispassengersslippedquietlyfromthecab,presseda fewcoinsonthedriveranddiscreetlydisappeared,noexpressionvisibleontheir faces. Twoofthegirls,miraculously,wereabletostand.Thethird,thesmallestofthem, layinashopkeeper'sarms.Brightbloodappearedatherlips.Hepassedthechild toaboyoffifteenorso,andgavehimsomeinstruction.Theboyjuststoodand grinnedawkwardlyasthoughembarrassed.Themanshoutedandpushedthe boy,andtheboyturnedreluctantlyandwalkedupthestreetcarryinghis unwantedbundle.

Hehadnotveryfartogo.Isawhimturnintoadoorwaymarked'DiptyXray Clinic'.Amancameoutagainafewmomentslater,carryingthegirl,andgot astridethepillionofascooter,whichanothermandroveaway. Theincidenthadaneffectonmefarbeyondthemerelyshocking.Therewasalso somethingveryfamiliaraboutthewheelcrushingthosesmallbodies,asthoughit wereaneverrecurringthemeoflife,anaccidentthatwasmadetohappen,that hadalreadyhappenedcountlesstimesovermanythousandsofyears.Ievenfelt asthoughIhadseenitmyselfoftenbefore. ForafewminutesIthoughtoffindingoutwheretheyhadgoneandfollowing themoflearningeverythingtherewastoknowaboutthosethreegirlsandtheir family.ThenIsighedattheimpossibilityofit,andwalkedon. AlthoughtheTriumphbehavedfaultlesslyallthewaytoDelhi,Iknewthatthere wasnoquestionofridingmuchfurtherwithoutanewsprocket.Ihadlongago writtentoEnglandaboutit,andexpectedtofindanewonewaitingformeatthe Lucasdepot.Itwasagreatdisappointmenttofindnothingthere. Foralltheircharmandhelpfulness,theLucaspeoplecouldnotconjureupa sprocketoutofthinair,andasIsatitout,waitingforpackagesthatdidnotarrive, sittingbytelephonesthatdidnotring,Ifoughtalosingbattlewithmyown exhaustion.IhadcountedheavilyonbeingabletogetoutofNewDelhiandon mywayinafewdays,beforetheheatcamedown,beforeIlostthemomentumI hadbuiltup. Thedaysstretchedintoweeks,andIbecameboggeddownindelaysandabsurd misunderstandings.Manygoodthingshappenedtome whileIwasthere,buteventuallytheywerealllostunderthecrushingweightof frustration.InthemuggyheatofaDelhisummerIbegantofeelIndiaclosingin onme,andIfoughtfuriouslytoescapefromitscloyingembrace.Indianfriends indulgedmyanticsasiftheywerethetantrumsofaspoiltchild. WhenthesprocketfinallyarrivedatNewDelhiairport,Ihadbeenwaitingfour weeks.NervouslyIsweatedmywaythroughthehoursofrigmaroleatcustoms, whereIwasalreadywellknown.Aftertheirownfashiontheywerekindtome. Thesprocketpassedintomyhandsthesameday,andIpaidneithertaxnorbribe norfee.WhenIgotit,Ihadonlyoneambition:tomakeaboltfortheborder,and home. MyfearofbeingtrappedinIndiawasnotentirelyfanciful.Therewasnewsof greatupheavalsinPakistanandwiththeoverthrowofBhutto'sgovernment, martiallawwasdeclared.Therewerecurfewsandriots,andIfearedthatthe bordermightbeclosedatanytime.AlloverlandroutestoEuropegoacross Pakistan. ButIhadotherdeeperfears,thoughIcouldnotdescribethem.Iwasinan advancedstateofrootlessnessanditwasbecomingplaintomethatthesewere notjustwords,butarealconditionthatthreatenedtobreakmedownunlessI foundsomestabilityandpeacesoon.Meanwhile,justbeingonthemovetowards Europealleviatedit. TheProphecyFulfilled On5May,with26,300milesontheclocksinceLA,IleftNewDelhi.Ishotupthe trunkroadtoAmritsarlikeanarrowfromabow,andhadthreenarrowescapes

withbusesbeforeIwasabletocooldownsufficientlytoridewithmyusual caution.Inretrospectthoseseemedlikethemostdangerousmilesofthejourney. Theurgetomovewestwardwasirresistible.Ihadtokeepgoing.Ihadseenand donemorethanenough. ThePakistanborderwasopen.IrodeinanormalconvoyofcarstoLahore.This greatandpopulouscitywasentirelydevoidofpeople,aquiteremarkablesight. Thecurfewwasalmostroundtheclock,andstringentlyenforced.Armedsoldiers patrolledeverystreetcorner.OtherwisetheonlylifeIsawwasaherdofdairy buffalomakingtheirownwaywithleisurelycondescensiondownthemiddleofthe broadandemptyavenue. Therewasnoreasontostay,forIwouldonlyhavebeenincarceratedinan expensivehotel,andIsetoffaloneforRawalpindi.InlessthantwohoursI arrivedattheJhelumRiver.OutsideLahoretheatmospherewasmuchlighter, andalreadyIwasexperiencingarelieffromIndia.Ihadstoppedbrieflytodrink sometea,andwasstruckimmediatelybythehumourofthepeoplearoundme. TheymadejokesthatIcouldlaughat.HowlongwasitsinceIhadheardajoke? TheJhelumBridgeisatollbridge.AsIstoppedattheboothavoicecalledtome. 'Sir.Sir.Please.Comeandrest.Haveacupoftea.' Isawamanattheroadsidelookingatmewithacheerfulsmile.Heworethepale greypyjamasuitofNorthernPakistan,longtunicwithtailsovertrousersthat a balloonedoutandcameinsharplyattheankles.Hisfacew sweatheredand creasedwithlinesofmischiefattheeyesandmouth. Hisfamilyhadpaidforthefranchiseonthetoolbridge.Theylivedinquarterson theriverbank,allmale,brotherandcousins,andwerePathansfromtheKohat regionnotfarfromtheKhyberPass. Hamidwastheeldestofthem,andthereforehonoured,thoughhewasotherwise theleastqualified.Hetoldmethathelikedtooffercomforttoforeigntravellers, andhesetaboutcomfortingmewithawill.Hegavemetea,heatedwaterformy bath,laidoutmybedandbedding,gavemesupperandtreatedmetoahundred courtesieswhich,inthecontextofmyjourney,weregreatluxuries.Allthewhile heentertainedmewithfragmentsofwitandwisdomgarneredfromallcornersof humanlife.HequotedFreudandEinsteinandShaw,andspokehimselfwith suchimpisheloquencethatIcouldclosemyeyesandimagineIwaswithan Irishman.Heevensaid'Sorr'. 'Nowtellme,Sorr,abouttheinertgases.Imeanwhatistheuseofthem.Dothey leadusanywhereatall?AndwherewouldyousayGodisinallthis?' IsaidIthoughtGodmaywellhavebeenanineteenthcenturychemist. 'Yes,Sorr,wellmaybenowheisapsychologist.ThatwouldbemychoiceifI werecapable.Itwasagreatmisfortuneforme,Sorr,thatinmychildhoodIwas hitmanytimesonthehead.Ithasdamagedmybrain.Iamunabletoremember thefirstfiveyearsofmylife.' HeproducedacopyofThePsychologistforMay1952,afadedtomatored pamphlet,andwrotehisname'HAMID,ABDUL,Kohati'onthecover,abovethe words:'TheWaytoGettotheRootofyourWorries'. 'Pleasekeepthis,Sorr,asaremembrance.Igetiteverymonth.Ialsostudy homeopathyandnaturalmedicine.Wouldyounotsay,Sorr,thatmodern medicinesareverydangerous?'

Heshowedmeplantsandherbsalongtheriverbank,includingthecastoroil seedwhichIhadnotnoticedbefore,andofferedtomassagemyarmsandlegs beforegoingtobed. Thebedsweresetoutonthehillside,charpoysandquilts.Ihadputmymosquito netup,buttheenemywasalreadywithin.BeforeIcouldgettosleep,mywaist wasamassoffieryblisters.Hamidwasequaltothesituation.Insteadofwasting timeonapologiesandmortification,hefetchedkerosenetosoothethebitesand deterthecreatures.Heinsistedonchangingbedsbecausehesaidhewas impervioustobedbugs,andIfetchedoutmyownsleepingbag.Hesailed throughthiscontretempswithanaplombthatisthehallmarkofultimate hospitalityinmyopinion.Nofuss,noembarrassment,aminorproblemsolved andforgotten.Helayunderthemosquitonet,afinegreennylonmeshmadein theUSA.BeforeIwenttosleepIheardhimask:'Wheredidyougetthismosquito net,Sorr?' ItoldhimitcamefromSanFrancisco,andwaitedforthenext,inevitable question. 'Itisverymarvellous,'hewhispered,almosttohimself.Thaveneverseenthe mooninsomanycolours.' Thedreadedquestion,theoneIhadbecomesoresignedtoforsolong,never came.Hedidnotaskmewhatitcost.Happily,Iclosedmyeyes.GoodbyeIndia. EverydayIclimbedhighertowardsthemountains,leavingthemultitudesofIndia behindme.Ihadtheimpressionofrisingaboveagreatbowlteemingwithlife,a vastandvaporousswampoffecundity.Uphereinthecolderairthecrowd thinnedandresolveditselfintoindividuals,alooffromeachother,cherishingtheir apartness. IhadnoideahowfarIhadadjustedmyselftothepressofpeopleinIndiaandthe absenceofprivacy.SuddenlyIfeltspaceopeningallaroundmeandIwasafraid ofexplodingintoavacuum,likeadiverindecompression.Thefeelingbecame evenmoreintenseasIrodeonthroughtheKhyberPassintoAfghanistan.In KabulIfeltIhadtostopforafewdaysuntilIhadregainedcontrolofmyself.I wasinasortofdizzyraptureandafraiditcouldleadtoanaccident. Ihungaroundthecurioshopsdickeringwithsamovarsalesmen,amazedattheir toughnessinbargaining.Mygreatestindulgencewastobuyaloafofrealbread, halfapoundofcoldimportedbutter,alargelumpofcheeseandabottleofItalian winemadeinAfghanistan.WiththeseIretiredtomyhotelroom,recentlyinfested withbedbugsnowlyingdeadontheirbacksallaroundthefloor,andconsumed allmypurchasesinanorgiasticfantasy. Onlysixthousandmilestohome. Theroadranonthroughathousandmilesofbarrenandseverewaste,Kandahar, Herat,andintoIran.Mythoughtsturnedinonthemselvesmoreandmore.Iwas soclosetotheendnow.WhathadItoshowforfouryearsofmylife?Whatwasit allabout? Asmymindscratchedrestlesslybackoverthejourney,mydismayturnedto panic.Ireallydidn'tseemtoknowanythinganymore. IrememberedasnatchofconversationfromthehotelatKassala,whenIcame outoftheAtbaradesertonthewaytoGondar.HowstrongIwasfeelingthen. Achemistryteacherhappenedtobesharingmydormitory.'Whatareyoudoing thislongjourneyfor?'theteacheraskedme.'Tofindout,'Ianswered,wearyof myusuallongwindedexplanations.

'Butwhatisityouwishtofindout?'hepersisted.'WhyIamdoingit.' Itwasafrivolousreply,butIwassofreeandeasyaboutitthen,withmostofit stillaheadofme. Now,runningforhomeacrossthisbleakland,Ihadtofacethesamequestion. DidIfindout,afterall,whyIwasdoingit? ItseemedtomethatthereweretimesduringthosefouryearswhenIdidknow, andthosewerethetimeswhenTheJourneyneedednojustification. ThenIneedednobetterreasonforthejourneythantobeexactlywhereIwas, knowingwhatIknew.ThosewerethetimeswhenIfeltfullofnaturalwisdom, scratchingatheaven'sverydoor. ThedaysofJupiter. Whathadbecomeofhimsince?Wherewasallthatwonderfulassuranceand enlightenmentnow?AsImovedmechanicallythroughthelandscape, undeviating,incurious,huggingmylastreservesofenergy,Ifeltbereftand ignorant,castdowntothedepths,nomorethan'apairofraggedclawsscuttling acrossthefloorsofsilentseas.' Scuttlingtowardshome.Icalledithome.Itoldmyself:'Justanotherfivethousand milestohome.Inonlythreeweeksyoucanbethere.' Iwasdrawn,asifbyamagnet,pastglitteringmosques,perfumedbazaars, mountaineyriesandtroglodyticretreats,alltheagesandsplendoursof civilization,hardlywillingeventoturnmyhead.Inmymind'seyethesamepicture flashedagainandagain.AMediterraneanavenue,andmyselfontheTriumph ridingupit,withthesunflickingbetweenthetrunksoftheplanetrees,towards myhome.Iplayeditoverandoverlikeaclipfromanoldblackandwhitefilm,'My Homecoming'. Itwasanillusion,andIknewit.Therewasahousetherestill,ofcourse,thatwas mine,butitwouldneveragainmeantomewhatitoncehad.HowmanytimesI hadrenounceditalready!OnlyayearbeforeIwassureIwouldreturnto CaliforniaandCarol.NowIwasbesottedbyanostalgicmemorymorethanfour yearsold.AllthefinefreedomIhadknownsincehadevaporated.Allthebrilliant andunrepeatableexperienceoffouryearswasaslifelessasashes.Iwasburned out,andIcouldthinkonlyofgettingtomylittlestonecastleandslammingthe door. Ragecouldstillkindleafireofsorts,asIaccusedmyselfofstupidity,betrayal, waste,weakness,everyfailingunderthesun. HowcouldIhaveletitgo?HowcouldIhaveletitshrivelawaylikethis?The wholethingwaspreposterousandfrightening.Imusthavesomethingtosayafter fouryearsandsixtythousandmiles,afterallIhadseenanddoneinforty countries. 'Excuseme,Mr.Simon,butcanyoutellmepleasewhatmessageyouwillbe carryingbacktoyourcountrywhenyoureturn?' Ididnothaveamessage,Iseemedtohavelostitontheway. 'Butsurely,Mr.Simon,youhavelearnedsomething.Whataboutdeath,for example?' Yes.True.Ididlearnsomethingafterall. ItwasattheendofmytwoweeksatBoddhgayathatIpackedasmallbag,hired arickshawtoGayaandtookatraintoBenares.Istayedthereonlyonefullday andtowardstheendofthatdayIsharedasmallboatwithaNewZealanderand

floatedontheGanges,aseveryonedoes,downtotheghatswherethebodies areburned. Asweapproachedtheghats,goingupstream,anunburnedcorpsedriftedslowly pastus.Ididnot,atfirst,recognizeitforwhatitwas.Itlaybackinthewateras thoughinaverydeep,softarmchair,withonlytheknees,toes,armsandhead abovewater.Acrowwasperchedonitsforehead,pecking. Nobodyinnormaltimescouldbeindifferenttothesightofadeadhumanbody.I certainlywasnot,andtoseeitbeingrippedintobyabirdwasevenmore shocking.Yettheshocklastedhardlyasecond.Ihadbeenpreparingforthis sightalongtime,andBenaresitselfgavemyconditioningalastpowerfulshove. Whatwastheretobeshockedby?Nothingcouldsuggestgreaterpeaceorpurity thantheGanges.Towatchthatbroadexpanseofshiningwater,somassiveand unruffledintheeveninglight,islikewatchinglifeitselfslidepast.NoIndiancould wishabetterfateonthepoorclayofhisbodythanthatitshouldfloatawayon thisriver.WasIgoingtobeshockedthenbyconsiderationsofhygiene?Hardly, knowingwhatispumpedregularly,ifinvisibly,intotheworld'srivers. Wasitthebirdthen?Butwhyshouldabirdbehardertocontemplatethana worm?SoitmusthavebeenthatIsimplydidn'tlikebeingremindedofdeath. Intime,thatbodyfloatingdowntheriverwastransformedformeintoanimageof greatbeautyandsimplicity.Itallowedmetothinkmorecalmlyabouttheprospect ofdeath.UnlessIcoulddothat,Ithought,howcouldIpossiblyhopeto appreciatewithoutfearthepleasuresofbeingalive. 'Thankyou,Mr.Simon,butwhataboutGod?Itisreportedthatatonetimeyou imaginedyourselftobeGod.Doyounotconsiderthattoberather blasphemous?' No.IdothinkitispossibletobeGodforbriefmoments.IamcertainlynotGod now. 'Butsurely,inyourcountry,mostpeoplebelievethereisonlyoneGod?' IthinkGodisthecompositecreationoflargenumbersofpeoplebeinggoodfora momentthewayfootballfanskeepasteadyglowgoinginastadiumbecause thereisalwayssomeonelightingamatch.Ifpeoplestoppedbeinggood altogether,Godwouldvanish. 'Thisisallratherairyfairy,isn'tit.Don'tyouhaveanythingmorespecifictotell people?' Icouldtellthemtorefusetobeafraid,andtotryalwaystodowhatisright.It comeswithpractice.Wearegiftedacompassinourheartswhichwillguideusto allsuccessinlife., 'Mr.Simon,afteryourmanyexperiencespeoplewillcertainlywantsomething moreconcreteandpertinenttotheworldwelivein.Whatcanyousuggest?' Theycanalwaysleaveatipforthestarvingmillionsontheirwayout. TheeasternborderofTurkeywasthehalfwaymark.Onlythreeandahalf thousandmilestogo.Sofarithadbeeneasy.TheworstIhadhadtofacehad beenanoilleakinAfghanistanandsomefilthyweatherbytheCaspianSea.I hadsteeredmywaysafelybetweenallthewreckedtankersandtruckslittering thesideofthehighwayand,sofar,hadsuccessfullyoutwittedthefate prophesiedforme. TheentrancetoTurkeywasayellowstuccogateway,builtpresumablyforhorse drawntraffic.InthiswastelandbetweenTurkeyandIran,itstoodasaromantic relicoftheOttomanEmpire,comprehensivelystuckinanageofboundledgers

enteredbyhandwithscratchynibs.Waitingtogopastwasamilelongqueueof fortytonTIRtrucks,parkedtwoabreastinthehotsun.Thedrivers,mostly Hungarians,Bulgarians,Yugoslavs,EnglishmenandScandinavians,wereout sunningthemselvesinsingletsandshorts,andplayinginterminablegamesof cards.Theyexpectedtobetherefortwodaysormore,butprivatetrafficpassed throughquitequicklyandeasily. WhenIaskedtravellersabouttheAsianroutetheyhadalwaysmadeasongand danceaboutthispartoftheworld.AustralianbikiesridingtheirexfactoryBMWs homefromBerlintoldmechillingtalesaboutthehighpassesinEasternTurkey: 'Andiftheydon'tfreezeyourballsoff,thenthelocalswillprobablyknock'emoff foryou,'theysaid,referringtothebelligerentandoppressedKurdswhohavea reputationforstonethrowing. Nowthecrowdsatthefrontier,andthefamiliaroldfashionedarchitecture,made Europeseemcomfortablyclose.Nobodythrewstones.Arestaurantinagarden atthenextsmalltownservedadeliciousandcivilizedmeal.Thesunwasshining. Idecidedtherestofthestorywasexaggeratedtoo. Foroncethetraveller'stalewasright,andIwaswrong.Astheroadroseupinto themountains,thecloudtookthesunawayandsentafinedrizzledownthrough thecoldair.Ihadexpectedtocrossoneortwohighpassesandthencomedown again,buttheroadstayeduponthisbrokenanduninhabitedplateauandturned todirtandrockslidesandmud,withsnowcappedpeaksallaround,untilIbegan torealizethatthiswasbecominganordeal.AstonishedthatIshouldrunintosuch extremeconditionssoclosetohome,Irodeononehundredandfiftymiles throughthefreezingdrizzlewithoutseeingsomuchasahouse,andwondering whetherIwouldeverknowthewelcomingwarmthofateashopagain. Thecoldstruckdeepintome,andmybodystiffened.Itriedeverytrick,singing, flexingmymuscles,thinkingwarm,notrealizinghowfargoneIactuallywas. WhenIdidreachthepetrolpumpbeforeHorasan,itwasjustintime. Hypothermiahappenseasilyonamotorcycle.Thebodytemperaturesinksbefore youknowit. Inthewoodframecafetherewasacokestoveburning,andIsatbyit,drinking glassesofhotteaoneafteranother,shakingandlaughingatmyownspectacle, butitwasstillhalfanhourbeforemyteethstoppedchattering.Ihadneverbeen socoldbefore,andthisinspiteofwearingawaxedandlinedBelstaffsuitovera paddedleatherjacket.Withoutthatsuit,whichIhadonlybeengivenayear before,Imightwellhaveforfeitedmyballs. IputonmoreunderclothesforthelastfiftymilestoErzerumandthenitwasall downhill.Thatmountainrangewasthelastmajorhazardofthejourney,thedog withthecartwheeleyes,anditcaughtmeunawares. IfIwasabletoenjoymyselfinTurkeythecreditwasdue,mainly,totwofellows andagirlwhoweregoingthesamewayontwobikes.Wemetinarestaurantin Sivas.PerhapstheycouldseehowcloseIwastotheendofmytether.They seemedtotreatmegentlyandboremealongwiththem,soinsteadoftakingthe shortestpossiblerouteIsawtheextraordinaryconicalrocksofCappadocia,likea petrifiedrallyoftheKuKluxKlan,andlingeredforafewdaysonthewarm MediterraneancoastbetweenMersinandAntalya. TherideupthroughthemiddleofTurkeytoIstanbultookthreedays.Oncewe campedout,andthesecondnightwestayedatasmallhotel.IntheteahousesI spokeGermanwithTurkishmen,admiringtheiropulentmoustaches,wondering

attheirbaggystripedshirtswithdetachablecollarsandtheirheavyoldstylesuits andflathatsthatremindedmeoftheDepressionYears.Turkeysurprisedmein manyways,byitssizeandbyaculturewhichinspiresaspecialqualityof nostalgiafortheperiodoneisjusttooyoungtoremember.ItwasonecountryI knewIwouldhavetocomebacktoandseeproperly.ThenIwasinIstanbul,and onlytwothousandmilesfromhome. MyfriendsandIpartedcompanyandatthispointIgaveupallpretenceofbeing onajourney.IstayedinIstanbuljustlongenoughtogivetheTriumphonelast, thoroughoverhaul,andthenIrodeasfastasIcouldforhome,inthegripofa kindofmadness.Itwasluckyforme,perhaps,thattheenginehadbegunto vibratebadly,andwastoopainfultorideoversixtymilesanhour. Theroadswereheavywithholidaytrafficandbigtrucks,adangerousmixture. MostofthecarswereGermanandImettheminanunendingstreamflowing souththroughYugoslaviatoGreece,untilIfeltImustbeinthenewGerman empire.Thereweresomeobsceneand terribleaccidentsontheYugoslavAutoput,whichmustbeaseriouscontenderas theworld'sworstroad.Ifeltfortunatetogetthroughunscathed. ForthreenightsIcampedbytheroadside,andthefourthnightIwasinMunich, stayingwithafriend.Aday'sridingtookmetoanotherfriend'shousein Switzerland.There,onlyaday'sridefrommyhouse,itfeltsafetobelievethatI wasreallygoingtomakeit. OnemorninginJune1977,IrodeovertheJuraMountainsintoFrance.The Triumphhadstoppedprotestingandwasrunningfreely.Allmyequipmentwasin workingorder.Isatinthesaddlewiththesameeasethatothersfindinan armchair,andcouldmaintainthatpositioncomfortablyfortwelvehoursormore.I wasverylight,somethirtypoundsbelowtheweightIsetoutatfouryearsearlier, butmybodyfunctionedbetterthaneverexceptinonerespect:myrighteyewas lessefficientaftertheaccidentinPenang.ToreadatelephonedirectlyintwilightI neededglasses.Istillsmokedcigarettes,andstillwishedIdidn't. IwascarryingricefromIran,raisinsanddriedmulberriesfromAfghanistan,tea fromAssam,curryspicesfromCalcutta,stockcubesfromGreece,halvafrom TurkeyandsomesoyasaucefromPenang. Inapolythenescrewtopbottle,boughtfromashopinKathmandu,wastherest ofthesesameseedoilIhadboughtinBoddhgaya.Thericeandraisinswerein plasticboxesfromGuatemala.MyteapotwasboughtatVictoriaFalls,andmy enamelplatesweremadeinChinaandinheritedfromBrunoatLaPlata.Asmall boxofhennaleavesfromtheSudan,avialofrosewaterfromPeshawarand somesilverornamentsfromOotacamundwerealltuckedintoaBurmese lacqueredbowl.ThisinturnsatinsideaRussiansamovarfromKabul. MyleathertankbagsandsaddlecoverweremadeinArgentina.Thetentand sleepingbagwereoriginalfromLondon,butthebaghadbeenrefilledwithdown inSanFrancisco.IhadablanketfromPeruandahammockfromBrazil.Iwas stillwearingLulu'ssilvernecklaceandanelephanthairbraceletfromKenya.The AustralianfishingrodwaswheretheswordfromCairohadoncesat,andan umbrellafromThailandreplacedtheoneIhadlostinArgentina. ByfarthemostvaluableofallmypossessionswasaKashmiricarpet,alovely thingsmotheredinbirdsandanimalstoaShirazdesign,butitwouldhavebeen hardtosaywhichofmypossessionswasthemostprecious.

IcamedownthroughLyonsandstayedoffthemotorway,crossingtheRhoneat St.EspritandheadingoffforNimes.Iwasstillplayingthatclipoffilminmyhead: theavenue,theplanetrees,thesunflickingbetweenthetrunksandleaves. Withinhours,evenwithinamodestnumberofminutes,thefilmwouldmergewith reality.Iwouldberidingupthatavenue,andbythatsingleactIwouldbesealing offforeverthefourmosteventfulyearsofmylife.Anyminutenow...TheEnd. Itshouldhavebeenintolerable.Ishouldhaveturnedandfledtheotherway.It wasafterallakindofdeath.TheonlyTedSimonIknewwastheonewhomoved on.TheHelloGoodbyeMan.Frompersontoperson,countrytocountry, continenttocontinent.Halfman,halfbike:ifnotJupiter,thenPegasus,perhaps, oratleastaCentaur. Butsoon,nomore.Iwouldtakemythingsoffthebikeandputthemawayin cupboards.Iwouldwearordinaryclothes.Andthisbike,whichhadbeen63,400 milesroundtheworld,Iwouldridetotheshops.Andmostofmydays,fromthen on,Iwouldspendtryingtoremember.Yes,itwouldbeabitlikedeath,butI welcomedit.IrodeonthroughthesunshineuntilIcametotheavenue,andthe sunflickeredthroughtheplanetreesexactlyasIhadremembered. Theendofthejourneywasevenmoreconfusingthanthebeginning.Infactit wasjustasarbitraryandmeaninglessasanyoftheothermilestonesalongthe way.DiditendinFrance,orinEngland?InmyownwayIhadevenendeditin Istanbul,whenIcrossedtheBosporusintoEurope. Myfriendswelcomedmeback.Icouldfeeltheirexcitement,andIenjoyedit.As longasIwasintheircompanyIcouldfeelsomesatisfactionthroughthem.Alone, though,Iwasingreattrouble,tossedonastormofconflictingemotions.Ifelt exactlyasthoughIwereatthemercyofgreatwaves,withoutthestrengthtohold ontoanythingfirm.Theonetaskwhichmighthavecentredmeonsomething steadyandreliablewasthebookIhadtowrite,butIfounditimpossible.The memoriesIhadreliedonrefusedtocometolife,andIknewthattotrytoforce themintotheopenmightcripplethem.Thesethingsoftheimaginationareso delicate,theycanbestrainedandfracturedjustaseasilyasthemusclesand bonesofone'sbody.Andtheycangrowoldandlifelesstoo.Iwasafraid. Duringthisbad,madtime,theweddingprophecycametomymindquiteoften.I hadneverbeforebeenspeciallysuperstitious,buttheexperiencesofthejourney hadchangedthewayIviewedthings.Inparticular,theincidentswiththeflying fishandthesaddhuhadaffectedmeprofoundly.Isawthatthingscouldhappen inotherwaysthanaccordingtothephysicallawsIhadbeentaught,andIfound theworldamuchricherandmoresatisfyingplacebecauseofthat. Allthesame,astrologyandfortunetellingdidnotfillmewithconfidence.They seemedfartoodeliberateandmuchtoovulnerabletoordinarywishfulthinkingto haveafirmplaceinmynewmythology.IfIthoughtabouttheprophecy,itwas mainlybecauseIhadlostcontrolovermyownfuturesocompletelythatthere wasavacuumwhichhadtobefilledwithsomething. Theprophecyhadpromisedmetwoyearsoftroubleandinternalconflict,andI wascertainlygettingafulldoseofthat.Ithadpromisedmetwoaccidents'not major,notminor',andIhadnothadeitherofthose.Ithadpromisedmegreat happinessandprosperityfrom1979,andthatwaswhatIwaslookingforwardto.I allowedmyselftobelievethat,howeverbadthingsfeltnow,happinessand prosperitywereontheirway.

AttheendofAugustIputallmybagsandboxesbackonthebike,reassembled mygear,androdeofftoLondontoappearattheMotorcycleShow.Onceagain, TheEnd.Finally,IrodethebikeuptheMlMotorwaytoMeridenandwasreceived bythefactoryworkforceassembledinsidethegates.Althoughithadbeen arrangedfortelevisionandnewspapers,thislastarrival,whichwasreallytheend oftheend,wastheonethatmovedmemost. WhileIhadbeenridingtheirbikeroundtheworld,mostofthesemenhadbeen fightingabitterbattletokeeptheirfactorygoing,andhadwoundupas proprietorsoftheirownbusiness.Triumphwasnowaworkers'cooperative,the firstinthemotorcycleindustry,andIwasveryproudtoberepresentingthem.I hadalwayshopedthattheywouldunderstandthat,anddrawsomevaluefrom thepublicityIwasgivingtheirmotorcycle.Whentheygavemethreeold fashionedbutrousingcheers,Ithoughttheymeantit,andthequestionsthey askedafterwardsseemedtoconfirmmyfeeling.Itwasadifficulttime.Thebike wouldbetheirsnow.Therewastalkofputtingitinamuseum.Iknewitwasthe sensiblethingtodo,butIwasimmenselyrelievedtofeelthatitmeantsomething tothemtoo. TheygavemeanalmostnewTriumph750initsplace.Cravengavemenew boxesandawindscreentofitonit.Itfeltverystrange,andIstruggledtogetused toit.Mostdifficultofallwastheswitchofgearleverandbrakepedaltoopposite sidesofthebike.FouryearsoflivingwiththeoldTriumphhadmademyreflexes instinctive,anditwashardtorelearnthem.Iputathousandmilesonthebike, beforetakingitbacktoFrance,andbythenIfeltmorecomfortablewithit,butI wasridingwithgreatcare.Ithadalwaysseemedtomethat,havingriddennearly sixtyfivethousandmileswithoutaseriousaccident,theperiodaftermyreturn wouldbethemostdangerousofall. InthesouthofFrancenearAvignon,Icametoacrossing.Therewerenotraffic lights,andIwasontheminorroad.Istoppedthebikecompletelyandlookedup anddownthemajorroad.Isawnotraffic,andsetouttocrossit.Icouldhardly havebeendoingfivemilesanhourwhenIsawmyselfwithinyardsofabigvan comingstraightformeveryfast.ItshouldhavehitmesideonandIwould undoubtedlyhavebeenkilledifithad,butIbrakedandthedriverdidn't,andso hisvanwasjustpastmyfrontwheelwhenIhitit.Thebikewastornawayfrom underneathme,andthefrontendwassmashedbeyondrepair.Ifellonthe tarmacwithallthebonesinmybodyshakenintheirsockets,butotherwise unharmed. TheworstwashavingtofacethefactthatIcouldlookdirectlyataspeedingvan andnotseeit.Myconfidencewasmoreshatteredeventhanthebike.Afterall thatIhaddone,withallthecareIwastaking,IcouldnotexplainhowIcouldride blindlyintosuchadisaster.Ifeveranaccidentqualifiedas'notmajorandnot minor',thatwasit. IfeltpositivelygladthatIwouldhavenobiketorideforawhile.Itwastimeto giveitarest.IborrowedalittleopenCitroenwithaplasticbodyandasoftcanvas top,anddrovearoundinthatduringthewinter. Itwasaveryhardwinter.EmotionallyIwasasdisturbedasever.Thehousestill didnotfeellikehome,thebookwouldnotcome,nothingwasright.Itookshelter withfriendsandhopedforanearlyspring.ThenCarolcametovisitme. Onedaywewenttoseemyhouse.Theweatherwasverybright,windswere tearingthecloudsacrossthebluesky.WhilewewerethereIdecidedtobringthe

Indianrugbackwithmetoprotectit.Wedrovebackupasteeproadonastony hillsidetorejointhemainroad.Istoppedthecaratthecrossing,tolookfortraffic. Agianthandpluckedthecarfromtheground,raiseditfourfeetupintheair, rolleditoverandthrewitdownthehillside. Theviolencewassogreat,soterrifyingandunexpected,thatIonlyknew afterwardswhathadhappened.AtthetimeIhadtheimpressionofwhirlinginhell andbeinghit.Itseemedtogoonforalongtime,andIwassureIwoulddie. Carolhadthesamerecollection.Iwasthrownfromthecarontomyhead,Carol fellintothebackofthecar.Fortunatelythecardidacompleterollintheair,forif ithadfallenupsidedownshewouldhavebeencrushed.Itfellwithitsfront wheelshookedoverabigbouldersometenfeetbelowtheroad.Theboulder held,otherwiseitmighthavebouncedandrolledalongwaydownthe mountainside.Carolescapedwithabruisedarm.Iwasdrenchedinbloodfroma scalpwound. Theonlypossibleexplanationwasthatagustofwindhadfilledthecarfrom behind,throughtheopenback,andwhiskeditawaylikeaparachute.The strengthofthewindthatwouldbecapableofliftingacarfourfeetintheairwas beyondmyabilitytocompute.Ithadanelementofthesupernaturalaboutit,of course. Therewasoneotherstrangecoincidence.TheIndianrugwasneverfound.Many peoplesearchedforit,butithaddisappeared. AweeklaterCarolflewbacktotheranch,andIwenttowork.Thingsimproved, gradually,andmyconfidencereturned.Thememoriesfloodedback,andthe bookwaswritten.Itisnowthewinterof1978.Theprospectsforprosperityin 1979seemquitegood.IhavealetterfromCarolsayingthatsheisthinkingof gettingmarried.Franziska,thepolicewomaninFortaleza,hasqualifiedasa lawyerandisworkinginBrasilia.BrunoisabuyerfortheFrenchtobacco monopoly,andtravelstotobaccoauctionsallovertheworld.Tan,theoldmanat theChoongTheanHotel,hassoughtrefugewithTheLittleSistersofthePoor. ThefamilyonthefarmnearLusakahavebeenviolentlyoverrun,afterall,byMr N'Komo'sFreedomFighters,anddrivenout.AndIhavereadthattheBlack MountainInninRhodesiaisnowaruinofbrokenbrickwallsandnakedrafters. ThereisnonewsoftheVandenBerghs. TheTriumph500c.c.modelT100P,serialnumberDH31414,alsoknownas XRW964M,isintheAlfredHerbertMuseuminCoventry,andremainsunwashed sinceIstanbul.SomedaysoonIplantovisitit. MeanwhileIdreamalot.OftenIdreamofridingoverthehardredfloorofagreat forest,beneathahighcanopyoftranslucentgreen,spreadingonandon.An enchantedforest,perhaps,wheremenmaystillsometimesplayatbeinggods.