2006
Martin Melaver, CEO

Q1 b 2006

About 15 years back, I had just finished grad school, and my old, close friend from college, was beckoning. We had talked for years about doing a long haul overland trip through, you name it, Asia, Malaysia, South America – each time it was different. So was this time. "C’mon," Ben said. "We may never get the chance again to do this kind of trip." And so off we went, outfitting a landcruiser in Gibraltar, putting it on a ferry from Marseilles to Algiers (worst boat trip in my life), and going overland across Africa. Two years later, I sold the jeep in Capetown.
 
I don’t talk much about that trip, in part because I’m still processing the many lessons it has afforded me.
 
For one, I think about that jeep, my home for 2 years, and the provisioning that went into it. Water, of course, was key, especially with uncertain water sources driving north to south through the Sahara. And so we had six 20 liter jerrycans of water on board, about the quantity of water that a family in the US consumes in 2 days. We needed to be frugal enough to ensure about a month’s supply at any point – actually not a difficult task once you get the hang of it.
 
A bit more humbling were the exotic foods we stashed along as part of our last shopping in Europe: chocolate bars (which we so carefully doled out that they either melted or became stale), spicey Indian sauces to make our rice dishes more interesting and variable (how was I to know that we could always find picquant piri-piri sauces almost anywhere we went?); pricey jars of organic peanut butter (not nearly as good as taking freshly-roasted peanuts from a local market and having someone grind them right there on the spot, which locals found hilarious). The baggage you carry with you on journies.
 
One such piece of baggage was my notion of time. Ben and I had come to Africa with a very definite timetable: we (thought we) had to get through the Sahara, then cross Nigeria, Cameroon, and the Central African Republic in time to reach Zaire (now the Congo) in time for the short dry spell between rainy seasons. Otherwise, the several thousand kilometre path through the jungle would inundated with several feet of water mixed with the clay road. And so we bolted through much of the first part of our journey, only to discover that the rains were late, we were early, and well-laid plans had to shift on the instant. So too with the ferry we were hoping to catch from Bumba to Kisingani on the Congo river. We waited a week or two for the ferry to arrive, which it eventually did on a timetable all its own. But the crane loading the jeep on board just ahead of us in queue dropped the jeep into the river – and so we decided it was best to proceed overland instead of risking the crane. And so it went. How does the saying goes: "Life happens when you’re planning something different."
 
Just recently, I had the pleasure of hearing Jonathan Lasch, president of World Resources Institute (http://www.wri.org/) speak eloquently about the interwoven aspects of social justice and envrionmental justice issues. And in Lasch’s presentation, he spoke about Lake Chad, once a huge rsource for many in that impoverished country, now reduced to almost nothing. The image was powerful on so many levels, way too complex to un-pack here.
 
But it gave me pause, to think back on my journey to Africa, a journey I probably am still taking.