Road notes: Day “8” West Africa/ Day “134” Africa Crossing

Back to Dakar, Back on the Road Again after a 17-day hiatus

It was meant to be a quick 5 day round trip to Paris to pick up the replacement disk clutch. The justification for the cost being the savings in time in Dakar that the 2 week delivery time for the part would have taken. But once in Paris with my son Peder who came to join me, it seemed such a huge waste of the pleasure of being with him, and in such a setting, that I quickly extended the trip another 5 days. And than… I got hit with Covid and so that took up another week and before I knew it, we’d spent an epic 17 days in the City of Light. Many of them were sick days admittedly but still, a very special time together with my 22-year-old son.

It’s energizing, interesting, muse provoking — to spend so much close time with an adult that young. That early in life’s arc, life’s trajectory. He’s also far more open and revealing with me than I was with my father. So I hear about his hopes and dreams and plans — as well as his insecurities, his worries, his fears.

And they sound so familiar as I can (still) remember back to his age when the same thoughts assailed me. Love life woes, worry over job prospects, feelings of not being good enough, trying to blend and fit in and yet stand out, the striving for muscles, the pursuit to have ‘one’s shit together’ (a phrase still in vogue decades late.) It weighs on his mind as I remember it weighed on mine at that age.

Of course, at the age I am now, in weaker sentimental moments, I can’t help thinking how wonderful it would be to have only that set of concerns. And not the ones that come with turning 60. He kept saying ‘by the time I’m 32 I want to…”. Some concrete goal achieved. A money target hit. A jaunt around the world. Fun/and or ambitious goals, the kind that take years of sustained effort to achieve.

And of course, who cares if you don’t make it there by 32… Hell, you’ve got — at least — another 4 long, long decades after that. Spin your wheels if you want son, for a decade. Hell, tour the beaches of the world and soak up the sun, the good times, the women! You’ll grow tired of it soon enough. But what a great way to wear yourself out. (yes, yes, chasing after pleasure is in the end, an unfulfilling and a pale substitute for the joy of a life lived with purpose, with deep meaning, etc etc.. Point is though that at his age you can “waste’ life in that way and it’s totally OK, and probably the best choice out there (for at least some of us.)

But that’s not really where I’m going with this. It’s more the comparison to where I’ll be in 10 years, and what I’ll have to go through from here to there. It’s a far more somber affair… and at the end of it, I’m 70 and it only gets even harder from there! So there’s no respite. I may be one of the very lucky ones and sail through those years without serious illness, but even then, my body will decay. Every week, month, year that goes by I’m on a downhill slope. And both physically and mentally.

So my goal, so different from when I was younger, isn’t to spend these years growing into something I can look forward to ‘being’ when I’m a decade hence. What’s the point of that? Whatever you now “Are” is fast going to disappear anyways! No, instead I want to be able to look back over these next ten years and think. “Shit, man, you really really pushed it to the limit! You really spent every minute living it. No regrets!” Someone, I think it was Woody Allen, said something about wanting to tire themselves out with the living of their life. That when they reached their 80s or so, they were so tired of living so intensely and fully that they’d welcome the rest that the passing into the Beyond will bring.

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I’m very ready and anxious to get on the road again and finally — hopefully — finish this now almost 5-month effort to cross Africa. I arrived in Dakar last night and am now back at L Hostello Francesca, with hopes that Mamadou, the owner of Mad Bikes, will be able to fix the Honda. Assuming that’s the case, I should be on the road in 2 to 3 days max.

It feels great to be back in Africa. I’m surprised how familiar it seems to me now. Almost like coming back home. Jayne, my wife, commented on that several times when we were together in Tanzania, ie how comfortable and joyful I seemed to be here. And it’s true. Perhaps it’s got to do with my growing up in Guatemala, another developing country. Or perhaps it’s just that my easy-going personality, my desire to just get along, and my gratitude for all the welcomes and smiles — meshes well with the African world.