Becks

Before leaving for Johannesburg I was incredibly nervous. We had been planning the trip for over a year and for it to be finally upon me seemed slightly surreal and pretty intimidating. I was worried about the money-when we'd run out and how we could pay for a 6-month trip with nothing in a bank account. I was worried about being capable of cycling everyday, about living with four boys and having no girls to talk to. I was worried about whether or not I could cope with the mental pressure of the journey-basically I was pretty worried. But as the trip happened to me I became less and less aware of my fears and they disappeared with the experiences we all had and the amazing people we all met. My time on the African continent, sitting on a saddle was the best time of my life and I am so grateful for everything that happened to us and to the charity for giving us a reason to do it. I wouldn't say I'm a new person from the adventure but I will say that doing it gave me more than I had believed cycling ever could.

When I arrived in South Africa we spent the first few weeks preparing for the journey, making sure the Land rover was up to scratch and that we had everything we needed to last us the journey. I dreaded the day when we finally had everything but it came and I remember saying to Rob "I don't want to go" to which he asked why. My reason was simply that I didn't like cycling. I'd never worn the funny little click in shoes before and I still don't know their proper name. I'd never really done any kind of exercise that demanded more than an hour's worth of stamina before either-I went to the toilet and cried. It's pathetic now when I look back on myself but at the time I really was wondering why on earth I'd decided to do it. Anyway, we set off that first day and it was great really- 50 kilometres with a massive wind behind us. I couldn't have had a better start. And the next few days went well too. I did as much as I could and stopped when I could do no more. There was never any pressure from anybody to keep on going- from the beginning we all tried to support one another. So cycling happened gradually to me and I didn't notice but by the time we hit the top of Mozambique I was doing as much as the guys. I will never say I could compete with their staying power and I always found it much easier to stop when I was too tired than they ever did. I went through a stage when I thought cycling was the best thing ever and I thoroughly enjoyed being on my bike. After the first few weeks I became numb to the saddle sore and all the funny little associated cycling pains. Fortunately I am a girl, which meant that I never really came across any serious problems from the saddle. I grew to love climbing up hills and forgot to keep track of exactly how many kilometres I had done. This lasted a fairly long time although I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say I love it now (my whining in Europe is testimony to that). What I will say is that if someone asked me to do it again tomorrow I'd probably snap his or her fingers off.

There were many extraordinary times. Everyday was extraordinary in some way or another but I have a few moments I think of often. The first day in Tanzania when we climbed from 400 to 2500 metres, carrying our own entire luggage. It was the most beautiful day and most fantastic scenery but more importantly it was such a sense of achievement having done it. The day in the mud in northern Kenya was brilliant. After having cycled on the worst road imaginable for days on end throwing black cotton sludge at one another and recording Jonny swimming in slime with nothing but his pants on was perfect light relief. Meeting Desmond Tutu, the Baobab Lodge on the beach in Mozambique, 'Sweet Like Chocolate' and his friends on the island in the middle of Lake Malawi, the night market in Stone Town Zanzibar, having all our belongings stolen in Dar es Salaam!, my Dad coming out to Nairobi and the Samburu National Park, laying on a beach in Malindi, the brothels in Ethiopia, the 'YOU YOU YOU' from the Ethiopian kids, the biggest market in Africa, the funny little police convoy throughout Egypt, our road trip through the Middle East (especially the Syrian border). The memories I have of the best times are fuzzy because each day really did have something amazing to offer and I could go on and on for an age about how awesome this venture was.
What truly made my trip the most incredible experience of my life were the exceptional people we met on the way. It wasn't only individuals who had done amazing things-like David who had organised a walk for peace between all the north Kenyan tribes- it was the kind of generosity people showed us. Everyday we were encouraged by excited kids, overwhelmed adults and welcoming communities. What we seem to forget here in the West is the significance of our relationships with people and the importance of being with them. In all of the African countries I visited, communities were interested in us and wanted to know about us and for us to know about them. And it was very easy to lose my patience because I wasn't used to being asked so many questions or having someone show so much interest in me. As a western woman you're taught to be suspicious of everything and it's almost instinctive to feel that people want something from you even if they just say hello. This is simply not true. On the African continent time is invested in relationships where we give time to money, as one very wise missionary told us in Mozambique and I firmly believe it to be so. One of my proudest moments, although I suppose pride is the wrong emotion, was when Rob and I went to a church gathering in Save, the middle of nowhere Mozambique. It was held in a little wooden hut and the sound of the singing was what caught our attention and the amazing Dr Alexander invited us to go. Although we couldn't speak Portuguese Dr Alexander translated best he could for us. He told us that the preacher was happy and thankful that we had decided to join their church group. He said most white people drove quickly through in their cars hoping not to be noticed, and he hoped this sharing of faith and time was a promise for the future. I flattered myself that I was part of this sharing of culture and faith. I think that being on our bicycles in the middle of Africa did allow us to become involved in isolated communities to a much greater extent than most people traveling in Africa are. But still, the bare fact is that it was this village community with nothing that gave us everything we needed for the night and who welcomed us into their society. I believe the kindness offered by people like this throughout the continent made us realise how simple it is to invest in one another and how fruitful the return is.

The most important part of my rather long account of what we did is of course the reason we went out there. Since being back at home and asked about the trip lots of people have said that we must have found it comforting to think that we were working for a great charity like Anti Slavery International. At the time it actually wasn't that comforting. If I'm being brutally honest, I didn't think that much about slavery while I was on my bike-the charity, its work and the cause seemed far removed from me. I think I lost the whole point of the trip until I came back home and had finished. Hearing the stories of children lost to agricultural and domestic labour in Malawi and boys sold into sex slavery then found dead in Johannesburg didn't really register with me until I got to England. On the road in Italy Rob and I stopped to talk to two Nigerian girls called Juliet and Mary my age that had been trafficked and forced into prostitution. It was so strange talking to them because they seemed so normal. They were so open about the 'job' they hated and the way they got there and how the money had to be sent back to a Madame in Nigeria that it almost seemed an everyday, normal situation to be in. They were so matter of fact. When I think about it now I cannot believe that they're probably standing on the exact same piece of road in exactly the same predicament, as they were when I cycled away from them. And it's so acceptable. When I arrived back in England and gave talks to schools about slavery I had to reacquaint myself with the various elements of it through Kevin Bales' 'Disposable People'. It was then that what I had encountered in Africa and Europe began to mean something to me. I grew to understand what I had seen more clearly and to realise that the bonded labour, child slavery and prostitution I had seen is not acceptable and that what people like Juliet and Mary suffer should not be normal or everyday or ignored the way it is. I feel very proud to have had the privilege to have worked for the charity Anti Slavery International. They have an almost impossible job simply trying to convince people that slavery even exists, nevermind the various different campaigns they organise, the governmental lobbying and the worldwide support they provide to local groups in order to bring an end to it.
I want to say a huge thank you to Anti Slavery International for allowing us to cycle for them. I also want to say a massive thank you to my mum and dad, friends and family for being brilliant and to Carol and Michael who have been tireless in their support and help. Most of all I want to say thank you to Rob, Nick, Jonny and Jono. Although we might have squabbled now and again I believe we were an insuperable team, indefatigable in our effort to work with one another and to achieve something far greater than I could ever give credit to here. I am so overwhelmingly grateful to you all for being incredible friends and allowing me to be a part of this adventure, which is the best thing I have ever done.