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Neil Peart's travel memoir of thoughts, observations, and experiences as he cycles through West Africa reveals the subtle, yet powerful writing style that has made him one of rock's greatest lyricists. As he describes his extraordinary journey and his experiences - from the pains of dysentery, to a confrontation with an armed soldier, to navigating dirt roads off the beaten path - he reveals his own emotional landscape, and along the way, the different "masks" that he discovers he wears.
"Cycling is a good way to travel anywhere, but especially in Africa. You are independent and mobile, and yet travel at people speed - fast enough to travel on to another town in the cooler morning hours, but slow enough to meet people: the old farmer at the roadside who raises his hand and says, 'You are welcome,' the tireless women who offer a smile to a passing cyclist, the children whose laughter transcends the humblest home." Neil Peart's travel memoir of thoughts, observations, and experiences as he cycles through West Africa, reveals the subtle, yet powerful writing style that has made him one of rock's greatest lyricists. Neil Peart was the drummer and lyricist of the legendary rock band Rush and the author of Ghost Rider, Traveling Music, Roadshow, Far and Away, Far and Near, Far and Wide, and, with Kevin J. Anderson, Clockwork Angels and Clockwork Lives.
It is said that one travels to East Africa for the animals, and to West Africa for the people. My first dream of Africa was a siren-call from the East African savanna ... great herds of wildlife shimmering in the heat haze of the Serengeti, the Rift Valley lakes swarming with birds, the icy summit of Kilimanjaro. So I went there, and I loved it. The following year I went looking for an interesting way to visit West Africa, to learn more about the African people - the animals drew me to Africa, but the people brought me back.
After much searching I found a name - Bicycle Africa - and signed up for a month-long tour of "Cameroon: Country of Contrasts." At the end of it I swore I'd never do anything like that again - but the following year I forgot my vow, and returned to bicycle through Togo, Ghana, and the Ivory Coast.
Cycling is a good way to travel anywhere, but especially in Africa; you are independent and mobile, and yet travel at "people speed" - fast enough to move on to another town in the cooler morning hours, but slow enough to meet the people: the old farmer at the roadside who raises his hand and says "You are welcome," the tireless woman who offers a shy smile to a passing cyclist, the children whose laughter transcends the humblest home. The unconditional welcome to tired travelers is part of the charm, but it is also what is simply African: the villages and markets, the way people live and work, their cheerful (or at least stoic) acceptance of adversity, and their rich culture: the music, the magic, the carvings - the masks of Africa.
Africa is such a network of illusions, a double-faced mask. It is as difficult to see into it as it is to see out of it. To those who've never been there it is an utter mystery, a continent veiled in myths and mistaken impressions, but it is equally obscure to those who have never been anywhere else. It used to be said that electronic media would bring the world closer together, but too often the focus on the sensational only distorts the reality - drives us farther apart. That is why in Ghana the children followed me down the street chanting "Rambo! Rambo!" and that is why Canadians look at me as if I were a lunatic when I tell them I've been cycling in Africa - they can only picture it from wildlife documentaries, TV images of starvation camps, and old Tarzan movies.
Africa fascinates me - in the true sense, I suppose, as a snake is said to transfix its prey. And the more times I return, the more countries I visit, the more the place
"Cycling is a good way to travel anywhere, but especially in Africa. You are independent and mobile, and yet travel at people speed - fast enough to travel on to another town in the cooler morning hours, but slow enough to meet people: the old farmer at the roadside who raises his hand and says, 'You are welcome,' the tireless women who offer a smile to a passing cyclist, the children whose laughter transcends the humblest home." Neil Peart's travel memoir of thoughts, observations, and experiences as he cycles through West Africa, reveals the subtle, yet powerful writing style that has made him one of rock's greatest lyricists. Neil Peart was the drummer and lyricist of the legendary rock band Rush and the author of Ghost Rider, Traveling Music, Roadshow, Far and Away, Far and Near, Far and Wide, and, with Kevin J. Anderson, Clockwork Angels and Clockwork Lives.
It is said that one travels to East Africa for the animals, and to West Africa for the people. My first dream of Africa was a siren-call from the East African savanna ... great herds of wildlife shimmering in the heat haze of the Serengeti, the Rift Valley lakes swarming with birds, the icy summit of Kilimanjaro. So I went there, and I loved it. The following year I went looking for an interesting way to visit West Africa, to learn more about the African people - the animals drew me to Africa, but the people brought me back.
After much searching I found a name - Bicycle Africa - and signed up for a month-long tour of "Cameroon: Country of Contrasts." At the end of it I swore I'd never do anything like that again - but the following year I forgot my vow, and returned to bicycle through Togo, Ghana, and the Ivory Coast.
Cycling is a good way to travel anywhere, but especially in Africa; you are independent and mobile, and yet travel at "people speed" - fast enough to move on to another town in the cooler morning hours, but slow enough to meet the people: the old farmer at the roadside who raises his hand and says "You are welcome," the tireless woman who offers a shy smile to a passing cyclist, the children whose laughter transcends the humblest home. The unconditional welcome to tired travelers is part of the charm, but it is also what is simply African: the villages and markets, the way people live and work, their cheerful (or at least stoic) acceptance of adversity, and their rich culture: the music, the magic, the carvings - the masks of Africa.
Africa is such a network of illusions, a double-faced mask. It is as difficult to see into it as it is to see out of it. To those who've never been there it is an utter mystery, a continent veiled in myths and mistaken impressions, but it is equally obscure to those who have never been anywhere else. It used to be said that electronic media would bring the world closer together, but too often the focus on the sensational only distorts the reality - drives us farther apart. That is why in Ghana the children followed me down the street chanting "Rambo! Rambo!" and that is why Canadians look at me as if I were a lunatic when I tell them I've been cycling in Africa - they can only picture it from wildlife documentaries, TV images of starvation camps, and old Tarzan movies.
Africa fascinates me - in the true sense, I suppose, as a snake is said to transfix its prey. And the more times I return, the more countries I visit, the more the place