Oyibo

Back here in the UK we have a mulit cultural society. We are conditioned to interact in a certain manner.We have, what we are told, is a ' Socially Evolved Society '. In Nigeria it is a Mono Cultural Society. Yes there are over 500 tribes and languages. With three main ones are, Ibo in the west, Hausa in the north and Yoruba in the east.And whilst there are two main religions, Islam and Christianity, culturally, they all sing off the same hymn sheet.( See what I did there.....comedy genius.)

I say all this,as what is ' normal ' here, isn't ' normal ' there. And visa versa.So I wanted to share some mentality differences and some of the incidents born of those differences.Remember, I am the only white man.

" Oyibo ".

All across the African continent I was shouted at, sometimes in a very friendly manner. Sometimes children flocked around me. Sometimes it was with utter contempt. The names I was called all had one thing in common.....they meant 'white man'.

In Nigeria, despite all the different tribal languages and English being spoken to varying degrees. From absolutely nothing to fluent. 'Oyibo' means ' white man '. And the mentality I constantly met was one of interest and intrigue. But also, one of ' you are white, you are rich and i want your money'. Political Correctness does not exist and so honesty flourishes.The people speak much more openly than we do in the UK.Can you imagine a black man shouting out " hey white man " ? And the response being " hi black man " . All said tongue and cheek. But for them, there is no reason to know my actually name, as I am the only white man. So, Oyibo is enough.

Nigeria, along with all of Africa is completely informal, by our standards. Complete strangers will speak to you, as if long lost relatives. People will speak to you briefly at a bar and then just join you at your table.And speak as if you've always known each other.( One of my biggest cultural shocks, has actually been coming back to the UK.And back to everyone ignoring each other.By comparison.) But with this is both good and bad. As in my experience, 90 % had an agenda. An agenda as I was ' Oyibo '. It was to a point that when someone befriended me and sat at my table, I was counting the seconds till he or she wanted something from me.All the pleasant and friendly chat was usually just a sales pitch at the end of the day. But once you know it's a game and don't let on that you do, you are empowered.

Cigarettes and normally Benson & Hedges, are 200 N a packet. ( 260 N to £1.) Your new ' friend' sits at your table and within 2 minutes he will have helped himself to a fag.( Americans reading this. No happy, happy men are involved in this moment.! ) .He then will order a Star beer, costing 300 N. Chat with you like you're his best mate.Tell you he would love to see the UK and when are you going to invite him over. When he gets told its not possible, he gets up and moves onto his next bar. It's cost you a beer, as it's a tab on your table and a couple of cigarettes. Fifteen minutes later, the next one comes over and befriends you......

....' you are white, you are rich and I want your money..'.......

Whilst these moments are both frequent, at almost conveyor belt speed.They don't actually cost too much, yes on principle its wrong. By our social standards. But i promise you, you will never change the African mentality, of how they view the white man.There is a view that we some how magically just have lots of money.Education and hard work are never part of the formula. Just that ' we ' have money.The end.

But I can also confirm, that I have also been invited to tables by complete strangers and treated like a celebrity or something. What ever drink I wanted and ....ahum....just point at which women you want.!!
Women in Africa are completely subservient to the man. Completely.Not only do they look after the home and the children.They make the food, Yam Yam for example, taking hours of pounding with a large pole.Into a tree trunk. To make it eatable.( Its a bit like potato and glue.) Then the women are expected to do ' any lifting in the bush '.You will see them walking with huge stacks of 10 ft long wooden logs on their heads, for miles, back to the mud huts. The men seem to all gather under large trees and stay in the shade.Often drinking Palm Wine.

I did say our cultures and society are very different. Almost to the point of being opposite. Yet, in Africa, it works just fine.

As ' Oyibo ', i did have more than one incident involving guys ramming their elbows into my back, whilst in a club near my hotel.I put up with it twice and then told them what I thought.Which seemed to surprise them.It's a fine line between standing up for decency and being perceived as an arrogant ' Oyibo'.But in my experience, you do it right, other Nigerians come to your aid.

Whilst in the same club, I was invited over to table. The guy who invited me kept getting up to have his picture taken, mainly with girls. Turned out he was from Ethiopia, spoke fantastic English and had just won Big Brother Africa.The man next to him sent a message over to me, apparently he was a famous DJ in Calabar. And when he found out my motorbike story, wanted to interview me.

That night as I walked the 200 m back to my hotel.At the bottom of the road I was staying on, lay some logs. ( Which means illegal road block.) Knife in my right boot, but with alcohol in my body....out jumped two men with huge machetes!!! Machetes raised and shouting. I lowered my head slightly, turned my empty hands towards them and just said " Oyibo". " How's it going, are you security "  ? ( Local Vigilantes. ) They said ' yes '. Accepted I wasn't a threat and walked me to my hotel. Me talking all the way.....and no, I have no idea what i was saying. I just wanted to keep them on side. One of them scrapped his machete along the railings of the metal Hotel fence and shouted the security inside.Certainly could have been a different moment, but it all worked out in the end.It helps if you know how they think. Or at least try to.

Next blog is about how I sold my little motorbike in Nigeria and the final bribes I paid to get out of the country.

I've put myself through al ot and cost myself my home, all possessions and now my savings.I'm not claiming the dole and am living off my Overdraft. Daily I risked my life all across Africa. I did it to raise awareness and donations for wounded servicemen.They sit in wheel chairs....without legs. Help me to help them stand, stand with dignity. Please click the Help for Heroes logo top right. Make a donation please.

Will

Nigeria. A land of contrast.

Nigeria I'm told, is the 8th wealthiest country on the planet.You will need to check that. I am not the Discovery Channel. Yet,I guess, in my own way, I am. Of a fashion :)

Abuja is only twenty odd years old. Purpose built to be Nigerias new capital. It's new found wealth,born of huge oil reserves. A capital city to reflect and represent that.

The roads are good, the water is always available, as is electricity. When it does fail,lots of diesel generators kick in. All privately owned by the given business. There are western type food chains. Small, but modern shopping centres, bars and all you'd expect say in Europe. Most are high end. The prices being at the least, the same as Europe. At the least. Bottle of beer...? Upto £5 !! Small Pizza and Fanta ?? £10 .All are crawling with security. Scanners and metal detectors at the entrances. And the Army and Police are never far away. :)

Outside of the bad. Which I'm coming to. Almost all the Nigerians have been very respectful. Very. Always calling me ' Sir ' or even ' Master '. Upon arriving anywhere, I receive,  ' Sir you are welcome '. All the time. Did you expect that ? I didn't.

Nigeria, on that front, it has been a absolute pleasure. I hope to return to Abuja. They always like a white man to front a business. It gives them more credibility. So you never know. I'm interested.

But it's definitely not all roses and cottages. That's for sure. Illegal road blocks !!! Huge tree trunks in the road. Planks of wood with six inch nails in them. Men sometimes armed with rifles and machetes. Looking to get money. But you don't see white men. Ever!! They are in Abuja or Calabar. So when I turn up, they shout at me. Annoyed I've slipped through their road block. I do it by waiting for a truck,van or finally,a car. And fly through at the last second, on the blind side.

A blog is a quick snap shot. I can't share everything. But Nigeria is certainly not all bad. I've liked the mentality I've met and the majority of the people.

Road Signs. Imagine trying to drive around your own country without any road signs ! There are non here...zero. ..narda...non. 600 km in two days. And a mixture of the best roads in Africa. And the absolute worst. No GPS, no map and no bloody road signs. Imagine that! !!! Make it easy for me Nigeria. ..Cheers !!

Long story short. Between yesterday and today, I've covered around 600 km. Not much ?? Well today I went totally off the grid. Really for the crack. There was a proper road. But I just wanted to cut across country. And off my home made map. Just going on less than a dust road. Much less. Close to just guessing really. Following my nose. Through bush villages and jungle. Thick jungle now. Everyone just gob smacked. But for some reason the illegal road block men, cheered me. Three separate road blocks. I salute them and they salute back. No idea what it's all about. But it's worked so far. :) Fingers.

Until, I came across a dried river. Completely in the middle of nowhere. No idea even now. All dirt dust and rock. And as I entered the river, half a dozen men jumped up. They were all digging. No idea again. All were shouting and un be known to me, they had a Bamboo blockade.  But...here's the but. They ran to lift it. And were prepared to help push my bike,up the dried river bank.

As non were armed and I was. I actually stopped. Not a great move maybe. But we spoke, middle of the jungle and their English was good. And that's rare in Nigeria. I explained my story. They seemed to like it a lot. Asked for a gift. I said I had my own money problems. ( I'm at £500 and it's going fast.) But gave 50 Naira. About 20 p. We all shook hands, which is done over hand and a mutual finger click. And I continued along the tiny dirt track. ( Lucky. )

After several hours I hit tarmac. No idea where I was. But logic said I was going in the right direction. Not one minute later, my chain came off my bike. Stretched loads by the past 100++ km of off roading. It was hanging.

A lad pointed me to a hut which fixed the usual Chinese bikes. I was instantly surrounded by a good dozen men. The atmosphere was mild aggression towards me. I kept my cool and was polite. But didn't show the worry I had inside. The eldest and largest began to grill me. Quickly telling me. ... " your people colonised us ". He wasn't a happy bunny.  ( My knife strapped to the inside of my left arm. )  I said I was old, but not that old and wasn't there. And asked how he was. He said..." ahhh but you received some of the benefits. .."!!

I did consider mentioning my country had also been colonised, by the Romans ( Italians), the Normans, ( the French ), the Vikings, ( the Danish).....and of course three Germanic tribes. The Angles, the Saxon and little known Judd. ( Poor Judd never get a mention. ) But the moment didn't seem too right for a history lesson.  And just said "...well its getting poorer now....if that helps "  To  which he said " good ". And offered me water.

Bike wise. O have a guess....I broke the frame! !! Luggage rack that is. A number of bolts rattled free too. And the rear suspension bottoms out a lot. I actually don't think the shocker has gone again. Just that with the weight of all my kit and the limited travel, the tyre sometimes hits the fender. Photos below.

Bit of a long one today. I'm in a town called Aplapum. A bush town. No roads or banks or anything. The very basic Guesthouse costing 2,000 N.Electicity after 7pm. Stand in a bucket and throw water on yourself, for your ' shower ' ! ive eaten chicken and rice. With pepper sauce. And enjoyed it. Very spicy.No white men in these parts. That's for sure. Meal was 500 N. Restaurant owner very pleased I complemented the food so much. They expert white men to be eating something else.

Lots happens I can't put in this blog.
Photos of the village bush track. Good 100 km worth. Will check exact distance. I think further. Women washing clothes and child in the river. My bathroom and shower buckets. And me dripping with swet and really cool helmet hair. ( dont be rude.) Writing this and going to sleep. Will upload in Calabar. Via wifi, when I find it . Phone has gone all bold on me. :)

But I am doing all of this for wounded servicemen. Men and women without arms. Without legs ! Can you begin to imagine ? Sat in wheel chairs. Abandonded by the polititions who sent them to war. " NO MONEY FOR YOU "!! all whilst they write a cheque for £12,000,000,000... in so called ' aid '!!!  Get your priorities right.!!!! Stop giving money to India and China. Who both have space programmes. British tax payers money should be spent on the British. .....

....or is it correct that we leave our servicemen in with no legs,no dignity,in wheel chairs ??

Help me to help them. X

Please click the HELP FOR HEROES LOGO AND SHOW YOUR SUPPORT. please make my efforts worthwhile.

Calabar tomorrow and get the Cameroon Visa. Should be in Cameroon in 48 hrs.

Please make a donation. Click the Help for Heroes logo.

Thank you.

Will x

Sahara Desert Part Duex

Salada madi cum

Through Agidir and Guelim. And now in Tan Tan Plage. Chipping away at the 1, 200 km of desert region. Met Tash, an English girl, who just married a local guy. Who works at the camp site. Between them I sorted out some bread and fuel. And got the low down on black market petrol from Anglers.

The desert road is almost totally straight, so not too exciting. Two days ago I put my i pod on, whilst riding, for the first time. I'm sure I look like the Sheik of Cool, as I ride along, singing and boping in my helmet and enduro suit. Infact, entertainment is when I see some camels !! And they seem to look at me all confused.

Back in the north of Morocco, I'd see Police at most roundabouts. But they always waved me through. Now, there are very official check points. With a mixture of Morrocan Army and then Police. All armed. (This region has had issues in the past.)

They now always pull me over and ask for my passport. I need to print off and fill in something called a 'Ficshe'. (Might not be spelt correctly. )
It's a bit like a questionnaire for a dating show. What's your name, where do you come from, where are you going. And do you prefer brunette or blondes ? That sort of thing.

The desert is still a mixture of rock and sand. Not quite the Lawrence of Arabia set, you might expect. Temperatures and humidity are all tolerable. But I have noticed the bike is rusting at an unseen before rate! ! Any exposed metal and it rusts. I think the Sahara is like a microwave ruster. :(  so I have baby wiped the bike. Honestly, I have.  To remove all oil, I have a slight leak, so the sand can't stick.

I need to Google " cado " or " cadu". I'm guessing it means " can I have your cash buddy ". As ever kid I pass says it to me !!! Lol.

Presently being entertained by a four year lad. Who is pointing at bits of my bike. Wanting to know what it's called in English.  Nice just to be ' talking ' to someone.

Going for it tomorrow. Making good head way towards the Mauritania border.

Not much to report. Apart from sun, sand and dating questioners.

Find me on Facebook . London to Johannesburg. "Like" and get updates and more sarcasm.

Will

Rabat.

Saladi cum

So I set my alarm on Sunday for 8 am. Giving me enough time to pack down my tent and make my way towards Rabat. Some 240 km south.

But I need not have. For the field i was in had some hens and cockeralys. ( Guess where this is going). Not to mention some recently purchased lambs. For the Islamic festival on Tuesday. Well at about 3 am I heard the dolsit tones of a distant Cockerell. Some 100 meters away. Now this cockeral must have been imported from bloody China. As it was clearly on a different time zone and didn't do it's job very well.!! That then made another cockeral, some 50 meters away, kick off. All confused, the damn cockeral in my field must have thought he was late. And he started ranting. All night long, 3am to actual sun rise, cock a blinking doodle do.!!!!!! :))

Via a small Morrocan cafe, where I had ' poilet et Chamawar ', check me out. I made my way south down the N1. Not too bad a road, ,rough in places. That runs along side the A1 toll road. Great countryside, with people living in polythene tents in fields. Where they harvested an orange coloured big fruit. ( No idea, as I am a meatatairian.)

Whilst riding along, I saw a local pushing a three wheeled bike come pick up. I pulled over and said in my perfect French,  "non Gasoline " ? He noded and I did my AA bit and gave some from one of two 5litre containers im carrying. My good deed for the day done, I saw a dust track road running parallel.

Off onto it i went. Wow !!! I filmed it with my head cam.I was pleased with myself and the little bike. Sitting on top of my rolled up sleeping bag. Which sits snuggly behind me. II rode for 30 odd kms, over sand and around massive holes in the once tarmac. I loved it. I beeped my horn at the locals and everyone waved and smiled. I even had a quick kick of some lads football, whilst still on the bike. The next game was to sit on the sleeping bag, put my weight on the handle bars and do a star jump. When ever I saw a local on a moped. Most of them dually responding, with the same manoeuvre.As we rode past each other.

The reason I was heading to Rabat, is to get my Visa for Mauritania. Some 2, 000 km south. So I had the pleasure of my first Hotel in four weeks. Bed, shower and wi fi.Up at 8.00 am thought, no delinquent, time zone challenged Cockerell here. Nothing is simple in these parts. 6 am on the dot and im thinking Ozzy Osborne had just got in. And was on the PA system. Thankfully it wasn't. But next door was one of three local mosques. A bit like the Cockerells, when one started, they all did. Calling everyone to pray.

So off this morning I went to the Mauritania Embassy by ' Petit Taxi '. ( Code for 20 year old Fiat Uno or Peugeot 205.) 30 dr later I was there. Now here's some facts about getting your Visa. As id read some incorrect  info. Take your passport, two photos, two pjotocolies of both the first page and entry stamp and 340 dr. Get a local hawker to fill the forms in, as they are only in French. Pay him 10 dr ( €1), hand it in and collect at 3 pm.Job done, I now have a 30 day Mauritania Visa.

I am now at a camp site near Casablanca. Camped next to me is another Brit and an American. We met outside the embassy in Rabat.They think im nuts. As they are on a Suzuki DR 650 and a KTM 690. Been great to speak English, as its just about zero here in Morocco.

Lol.Still beat them to the camp site.I did have a big head start though . I'm still staying off the main roads whenever possible.

The people have been friendly. It's been a pleasure. But tomorrow is the beginning of five day Islamic holiday. Before setting off, I want to find out the availability of water and petrol. For the journey ahead. 

Remember I'm doing this to raise donations for wounded servicemen. Please click the Help for Heroes logo. It all goes to guys who have lost arms and legs. I got down today over the lack of donations. Less than £300 in the past month.  So please, don't wait for someone else.

Will

Training on sand

Trying to do this blog on my new phone.  As when under way, this is the way I will be doing it. Hopefully !

Well,  we have had a set back with one of the sponsors. Which has left a gap in the budget. I am putting in £5, 300 but now need to find an additional £1, 800. No mean feet. So far I have begged and borrowed a further £1040. And an army mate has sorted £500. So we are on a tight, tight budget.  Back on track.

( I haven't accounted for gettting back though. )

Been on tour with The Extreme Stunt Show this past two weeks.  And found myself near a beach. So thought I'd start to learn ridding on sand.

I gave it a few steady runs on the wet sand. And into some seaweed covered rocks. And was just getting into it. When the Police arrived. !!!! So not wanting to interupt their duties.  I pretended not to see them. And went like the desert wind.:)

The Biker Store called last week.  One of their customers is a TV Producer. He has kindly offered to do an interview to promote An Idiot Got Bored.  The Slow Way Down. ..( The Angrier Pants are on. ) !!!!

This will go on YouTube and also on this blog.

Hopefully the donations will increase and maybe a Camping and Sat Nav sponsor may want to get involved.  Hint hint. ...

Ok. I'm going to see what this looks like. Share this page and please make a donation.  Every penny is going straight to help wounded servicemen.  Most of whom have loat arms and legs.Click here to donate to Help for Heroes. London to Johannesburg on a 125 .

Will

The Suzuki Van Van is all white you know !!

Some inter net and laptop problems here. Not to mention washing machine and burnt dinners !! I managed to break the washing machine and burn the Fraybentos and burn out the laptop out. All in 24 hours. Can't wait to see what I break tomorrow.!!  Well the bike is back together, complete with it's new white paint work. Looks pretty good, me thinks. Very happy with it. Big " thank you " to The Stig. aka Dave. The graphics will be here Tuesday. But I start my new job with Xtreme Events on Monday. So they will go on when I return in fortnights time. ( Two weeks, if you are across the pond.) 

I'm working with a Stunt Show touring the UK, with 130 dates across the length and breadth of the country. It's good news for me, as I can give up my thousand pound a month rented flat up. And move into a caravan, as we tour the country. Those savings are paying for this challenge in September. I need to find seven thousand pounds by then. To cover the excitement, but necessary  Carnett de Passage. ( Import document for the bike. ) It's costing seven hundred and fifty seven pounds. Visa's at thirteen hundred pounds. Food and Accommodation for 6 months. Flight and bike shipping home. The list goes on and on. By the way, I cant get this new ( ten year old ) laptop from US English into proper English. So the keyboard keys have one symbol on, but do another. The Pound currency symbol is now #.....Which is a hash in the UK. And just to confuse, is known as a pound symbol in USA. It all started going wrong with the washing machine. So hey ho. Back to the bike.

Note the front fender has been raised 40 mm. To allow a bit more space for mud, as the Rainy Season will kick in in October whilst in Africa. Big Dave fabricated the brackets and fitted them, how clever is he ? i will probably get a front fender extender too. Money permitting that is. 

What do you think to the Mighty Van Van from this angle ? What a beast. Those rear tyres are rare, as a result I shall be ridding as is to southern Spain. And whilst I have a day off with an old Army mate, the local dealer will provide some brand new V rubber. Again budget permitting, I will either buy a second one brand new. Or take this one with me.The tank, as you can see. Is very small, only 7.5 lt. Which just will not cut it going through the Sahara Desert and beyond. So, after the PR work is done, this tank will have to be replaced by a larger one. Possibly a DRZ. Hopefully from Suzuki GB. And upon my return to the UK, I will swap them back over.

I also found out today that the speedo wasn't the right one for the bike. It was actually from a Honda and the Dash wiring was all wrong. Put the Indicator on and the Neutral light comes on, that sort of thing. No stress though. We are going to fit a digital bicycle speedo instead. They probably can go faster than my little Van Van anyway ! The dealer said they are twenty pounds, instead of four hundred for a pattern Suzuki one! The bike will most likely spend more time horizontal, than vertical anyway. So that's the way we shall go.

If my washing machine persists in being possessed. I am going to take a picture of  it, put it on the blog and name and shame it. The Italians should stick to making fast cars and spaghetti  Not washing machines. Indesit.............more like  In The Sh#t !!! 

I won't ask you to make a donations to my cause. As non of you ever do. Nearly 4,000 visits to this blog and 4 donations to my charity. Shocking !

Will