In our darkest moments, we often fixate on benign objects as a means to keep from sliding over the edge. While chained to a tree as a prisoner in the mountains of Colombia, the now ridiculous notion that kept me struggling to stay alive was that I had to survive in order to someday wear that jacket. In retrospect, at least half of our actions in life later seem silly, but, still, that simple leather coat represented a one-time dangling connection to sanity. Even though the battle is over and though I seldom wore it, being able to reflect on a meaningful symbol would have helped settle those sad events.
Fearful of ruining my otherwise fascinating journey through Africa, when this burglary occurred last Christmas, my friends had the presence of mind to keep secret what had happened. Although I would not have returned early to deal with a theft, brooding over the matter surely would have tainted remaining travel days that required living in the moment. The good news is that I never got mad. Those watching and nervously waiting for an unpredictable reaction were relieved when I merely mumbled that all that stuff was just that — stuff. A lesson I learned while evaluating my losses was that although material things are wonderful to have and enjoy, it’s the value we place on them that weighs us down. Can it be true that less is more?
Even more valuable yet less tangible, I still have memories of those encountered while rambling around the planet. Images of my Siberian, Asian and South African brothers blend in a tingling collage, flashing among recollections of Mongolian nomads, Dayaks of Borneo and Hamer tribes of Ethiopia. No one can take them from me, nor can they erase the lessons of kindness and friendship they taught. They are now part of my soul, and to forget them is to betray them. How can I fail to remember the least of the least who shared the most with a wandering stranger they would never see again? When asked what I learned most from this journey, the reply is easy — to share.
So why is it that when humans meet face to face we do the right thing, yet from a distance we hate and suspect each other? And ultimately plan and organize our resources to destroy entire societies? It seems all cultures recognize a supreme God or otherworld deities who affect our fate and who may someday hold us in judgment. If religion is supposed to explain the unknown and temper aggressive spirits, have the teachings failed? As it stands today, in Christianity, Judaism and Islam, radicals wield disproportionate punishing power, bullying faith into fanaticism, which could lead to a showdown between the West and the followers of Mohammad.
But no matter the culture or period in history, it’s the same all over: humans coerced into battle over another person’s God and money. Whether it’s corporate greed, thieving dictators or authorities demanding bribes, when riches are at stake, there is forever a temptation to take more than one’s share with no regard for who suffers or dies. Wherever we venture, we will discover similar frightening patterns of senseless mayhem, with only the numbers differing. Is it the nature of men to kill each other? We don’t have to look back far to identify homicidal frenzies. Nazis, Khmer Rouge or Rwandans on the rampage proved that when properly inspired, we will slaughter as many people as technology allows. But it doesn’t take long before local news of celebrity gossip buries such tragedies in the public’s consciousness, reducing them to more palatable, simple statistics with perhaps a movie or a few books — if there is profit involved. And at this very moment in Sudan, anyone with a mild education is aware of a continuing genocide, but there is little concern. Maybe when word spreads that it’s Muslims killing Christians, Westerners will take a side. In the meantime, Arabs are relieved at the silence.
As televised images of war and horror bombard us in our homes, a shameful callousness insulates our hearts as we only grimace when hearing about our own dead countrymen. Are the victims more deserving or not as significant if predominantly of another race or religion? As suggested during the murderous breakup of Yugoslavia, were Americans and Europeans quicker to act when the victims had the same facial features or were of similar heritage? Or is it acceptable if particular groups are exterminated because they have been branded “those people who want to destroy our way of life?” Even with the current ebb and flow of Middle East butchering, we still only wince and privately complain, with merely a relative few showing enough courage to question the morality of military aggression. And where are our courageous leaders? They stand ready to act according polls. Who wants to come down on the wrong side of war?
At the end of the day, is it that we care only about what occurs directly in front of us? Seeing an old man slip and crack his head on a sidewalk, who would not stop to render assistance? From tsunamis to earthquakes or civil wars, the less-fortunate are slipping and cracking their heads by the millions every day, but because their blood doesn’t splatter directly on our clothes, somehow we don’t feel the agony of their tragedy.
And exactly how much aid do we owe each other anyway? Is it our responsibility to raise the level of entire societies to what Westerners consider civilized or just restore them if suffering untimely disasters? Or is it best to share our knowledge so others can decide how much technology and democracy is right for them? Does the world need a more equitable distribution of wealth or a more equitable distribution of knowledge and opportunity? If events were reversed, would those of the developing world assist us? Actually, they did, every day, as I drifted among their lives most often lonesome, tired and hungry. So what’s the price of organized civilizations?
As universal is a mother’s love of her child, so is the need for humans to form tribes, which, for one reason or another, ultimately attack each other. And the less we know about others, the easier it is to kill them. Yet, those who look the same as us or speak the same language are harder to slay. Could Americans easily war with Canadians? Wherever I traveled, once I practiced a few simple phrases in local languages, barriers dissolved. Although the stumbling communication was basic at best, it was the gesture of attempting to understand that built friendships. Without the ability to exchange ideas, and a growing eagerness to use high-tech weaponry, are humans destined to eventually exterminate themselves?
Yet, in the interests of prosperity, when war is temporarily unfeasible, humans always resort to the irrevocable laws of mathematics, communicating with the most common symbols in history. Even committed enemy nations, no matter the race, religion or culture, use simple-to-understand codes of measure. In every country on earth that prints currency, on the upper corners of paper bills, they indicate values with universal Arabic numerals. And what’s to gain from realizing these basic notions?
With nearly two years on the road minus the comforts of home and family, a sought-after metamorphosis must have taken place; yet, my only epiphany is common sense, that and the desire to reiterate the obvious. As a species cut from identical genetic cloth, we all want the same things — so if individuals can get along, why can’t governments? But stepping outside the comfort zone to investigate has had its price. It takes years to digest and recover from a journey like this, maybe a remaining lifetime. Day-to-day existence was so intense, a thousand experiences have to settle, but also, to stay on track, every day since returning, I stare at the photos of my friends from the road and still gaze into their eyes. Tormenting emotional extremes return as I recall pledges to speak for the suffering from alien cultures who, in spite of their plight, found reason to hold forth a hand. It’s true that the world is a mess. So what do we do? Throw up our arms and turn our backs. Or do we roll up our sleeves and get to work? Doesn’t everyone who is able have a responsibility to hold out a helping hand?
Imagine how our world would appear to visiting spacemen. From the cushy seats of gas-guzzling SUVs we rant about oil prices as Kenyans in the Chalbi Desert dig into parched clay riverbeds while dying of thirst. As delirious people flounder in grief sorting out the devastation of tsunami-ravaged Banda Aceh, meek little Cambodians pray that someday those who planted land mines in their country will return to retrieve them. And that’s only a fraction of the insanity. Wh
at’s wrong with this picture? In terms of geological time, we have only been around the blink of an eye; so how significant is humankind anyway? Would the universe be better off without us? Dr. Jonas Salk said, “Take away the insects of the world and life will perish, but remove humans and life flourishes.” Is it time to prove our worthiness?
As world citizens with such abundant resources, should we shut off our televisions and get out more to see how the other half lives? Views from the trenches differ from media portrayals that distort for the sake of ratings, and after opening our eyes, we just may become motivated enough to act. We can never solve world problems unless we understand what they are, and we will not uncover the truth by relying only on interpretations of the monetarily motivated. To know for ourselves we must go there — anywhere, just go.
It’s almost a cliché to state that we need to travel in order to appreciate home, and while that is true, so is the concept that learning about other cultures and languages through first-hand experience stimulates our interests and ultimately revives a wobbling faith in humanity. My temporary detour into a kaleidoscope of alternate civilizations eventually evolved into an experience of marveling at our similarities and celebrating our differences. Will life ever be the same? When asked by those at home if I have any regrets, my invariable reply is, “Yes, I wish I could have stayed one more day, everywhere.”
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the following supporters who in one way or another helped make this project possible:
Frank Weimann
Jack David
Gary Farinacci
James Gairdner
John Cockrell
Brad Neste
Dennis Hof
Jimmy Weems
Paul Boughey
Donal Rodarte
Shirin Bassirian
Dan McCown
Anthony Montanona
Hushang Shahidi
Troy Freet
Cliff and Dale Fisher
Tex and Pam Earnhardt
Doug and Stephanie Hackney
Loren Gallagher
Al and Julie Jesse
Andy Goldfine
Peter Doyle
Jimmy and Heather Lewis
Kjell Heggstad
Big Don Hinshaw
Brian and Skye Coddington
Laird Durnham
Suzette Gwin
Mike and Sue Brown
Chuck Zito
Ricardo Rocco
Michael Kneebone
Antonie van der Smit
Graham Matcham
Sukoshi Fahey
Chris Macaskill
Göran Hedin
William Mayer
James Renazco
John Pierce
Hugh Blair
Robert Heikel
Danny Hurowitz
Sharon Hurowitz
Scott Weingold and family
Grant and Susan Johnson
Ian Smith
Steve and Sharon Fields
Murphy Sims
Teo Seng Boon
Lee Woon Sin
BK
Sean and Laurene Franklin
Ken Grunksi
Joe Gallagher
Bonnie Kramer
Laurence Kuykendall
Dan Rather
Greg McLaughlin
Larry King
Montel Williams
Bill Willis
Pete Corboy
Ricardo Lemus
Nate Katz
Tucker Carlson
Dara Klatts
National Geographic Channel
Tom Meyers
Brad Vardy
Russian Motorcycle Federation
Mike Harashou
Nick Rosser
Dr. Christian Chaussy
Dr. Flosner
Anita Trost
Maureen Ross
Louis Gonzales
Dr. Page
Renee Leman
Roger Pioszak
Steve Peyton
David Peterson
Dean Garner
FFs from Advrider
Southern California BMW
Links:
www.guilty.com
www.rideabmw.com
www.aerostich.com
www.telestial.com
www.ohlins.com
www.avon-tyres.co.uk
www.touratech.com
www.F650.com
www.renazco.com
www.billmayersaddles.com
www.jimmylewisoffroad.com
www.smugmug.com
www.cariboucases.com
www.shapefitting.com
www.bestrestproducts.com
All royalties from Glen Heggstad’s projects are donated to international aid organizations.
For more photos and information, please visit
www.strikingviking.net
Photo gallery images are available in high-resolution
eight–mega pixel format.
Contact Glen:
USA (760) 275-9375
Mexico 011 52 1669 158 7195
[email protected]
A Siberian Welcoming from Internet connected motorcycle riders.
A Mongolian nomad girl sent by her family to care for a stranger in the Gobi Desert.
Comparing transportation with modern nomads in the Gobi Desert, Mongolia.
En route from Turkey to Syria during a mid-winter crossing of the Anatolian Plateau at 8,000 feet.
Taking a tea break at the invitation of a Bedouin nomad camped in the Syrian desert near the Iraqi border.
A Jordanian Bedouin woman making breakfast in a rare photo without her veil.
A difficult pyramids shot captured by entering from the open desert through the Bedouin’s secret hole in the security fence.
In a small village along the Nile River, eager Egyptian Arabs swarm forward with shouts of “Welcome! Welcome!”
Dining on roasted chicken with curious Egyptian Arabs.
A Palestinian man, forbidden entry to visit his family for nearly five years, prays at the entrance to Erez Checkpoint.
Election day during Palestine’s first presidential race. Gaza City, The West Bank.
Chatting with friendly Palestinians in Gaza City.
A crowd gathers to help when a traveler stops for directions. Islamabad, Pakistan.
The front of a typically decorated Pakistani bus.
A very creative, multi-handed beggar in Pushkar, Rajastan, India.
Female slaves laboring outside of Pushkar.
Mother and daughter portrait in Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India.
While defying a Maoist rebel blockade, a Nepali driver’s hand was severed and his bus burned. En route to Katmandu, Nepal.
Everyone’s sins are washed away during the week-long Songkran water festival in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Thai language lessons in the remote mountains of Northern Thailand.
Long-neck Pa Dong tribeswomen in Northern Thailand.
Hill-tribal women in Northern Thailand with teeth blackened from chewing the betel nut.
Sinking in the sucking mud of the Borneo jungle, Sarawak, East Malaysia.
Orphans from the Tsunami still manage a smile, Banda Aceh, Sumatra, Indonesia.
The only entry into Borneo’s murky interior was upriver by a small fishing boat. Simanggaris, Kalimantan, Indonesia.
Enthusiastic Dayak tribal villagers greeting an alien vagabond in Borneo, Kalimantan.
The result of riding with a burned-out headlight in the ju
ngles of Borneo, Kalimantan, Indonesia.
Boxing lessons for Dayak village youngsters under the watchful eye of their father, the chief. Borneo.
Camping in the Namib Desert, Namibia, Africa.
Curious Masai tribal youngsters look on as I take their photo in Tanzania, Africa.
Masai tribal women evaluating a motorcycling alien, Tanzania, Africa.
Hamer tribal girls saluting the world, Omo Valley, Ethiopia.
Volunteers gather to assist changing a tire after a dozen blowouts in one day, Omo Valley.
An afternoon encounter while off-roading on the open savanna, Omo Valley.
Born in San Francisco, Glen Heggstad evolved from outlaw motorcyclist to international martial arts champion to adventure travel writer. He was the subject of a National Geographic documentary, and is the author of Two Wheels Through Terror. All royalties from Heggstad’s books are donated to international aid organizations. Follow his current activities at www.strikingviking.net.
One More Day Everywhere Page 43