Chapter Three

My friend, the bicycle

As a little boy on my grandfather’s estate in Tanzania, my favourite mischief was to escape from the comparative safety of the farmhouse garden on my bike. I longed for adventure amongst the sisal(*3) and coffee tree plantations, daring to travel even further afield to where danger lay waiting in the wild, those places where the beasts rightfully sought to reclaim their ancestral lands, which had been stolen by the settlers.

My cherished bicycle became my friend and companion. Together we travelled everywhere, even coming within sniffing distance of prides of lions, which lazily raised their heads when they saw us pass by along the dirt roads, leaving behind us a cloud of dust. On these occasions, I felt both scared and thrilled and my bike and I rode speedily on without stopping. I knew that there was always a risk that one of the lions would chase us, but my bike lent me courage and strength and I was confident I could escape from any possible attack. It was really exciting!

Sadly, the time came when we had to leave Africa. It was a tragic and traumatic experience. Not only did I leave behind my homeland, but also the vastness of the estate, the breathtaking wildlife, the endless horizon and the beloved bike that had literally become my best friend, protector and supporter in my countless rides and adventures. But when I left Africa, above all, I lost my freedom.