My Dream to Be Free

  Mary told me that she had nothing against Chris being so often with me in the front.

  Because of this, she had the whole double seat for herself alone and could sleep well.

  Chris and I got used to one another and became friends, so also Mary, who did not want to see her girlfriend only with me, so I had to take care of her as well.

  In our coffee breaks, I paid for her tea as well. However mostly the driver’s desk was free of cost, there was no bill. So it was in Turkey. We had the first stop for two nights in Turkey in Tehran and of course I thought of the Amir - Kabir – Hotel, not purely by chance.

  I was known there and it could only be of advantage.

  After a small meeting with the manager, only one room was free, which was reserved for me.

  The girls were a little disappointed not get a room because they did not get a room and thought that they had to sleep in the bus. But the hotel manager pointed out that there were three beds in my room. And thus I offered, generous as I was, to accept the remaining beds, which they accepted. So we were in a room for two nights.

  Of course they knew that the room would not cost them anything.

  From my 48 guests, almost all of them stayed here in the hotel, since they were very spacious rooms, where up to ten persons could be accommodated and thus were cheap.

  So a three-bed room with shower and toilet came with a certain degree of luxury.

  I slept like a dead man and the girls also told me that they had slept well and rested, despite my snoring.

  We drove by taxi to the Consulate and then we took a stroll through the bazaar. An Iranian explorer used the pushing and shoving as a chance to grope Chris’ breast, which made me angry and I removed the face veil of a hooded Iranian woman right in front of her nose.

  This got me into a lot of trouble. Strange, the young Iranian did not get any scolding, but I had to disappear very quickly, otherwise I would have been massacred.

  We got the visas the next morning and I slept the rest of the day as much as I could. It was not easy due to the giggle from the two girls while they were writing the passenger list. One read out aloud and the other wrote the nonsense.

  It was not possible to push it through with six copies at one go, so they had to be content with three copies.

  Chris notified me of 23 different nationalities. It was very multinational to have so many different nationalities among 49 people. The youngest was 17 and the oldest was 31. In between there was Mary who was 23 years old and Chris was just 22 years old.

  The onward journey along the Caspian Sea and to Mesched, where we stayed at the campsite overnight, was very exhausting.

  The next morning, very early we continued to the border towards Afghanistan.

  Hashish party in "ISLAM QUALA"

  Despite the timely arrival at the border station, we were not able to continue on the journey on that day. The Afghan customs officer goofed around for so long till he said that the passport official could not read anything anymore, since it was already too late and there was no electrical light.

  The passport official, who spoke very good English, confirmed it to us once again. There was no electrical light no further driving in the dark. That would be much too dangerous, he said.

  But we were told not to be sad because he had a lamb slaughtered, which he would give us all for dinner.

  In fact, there was already a fire, in which the lamb hung on a spit, going in full swing and I could smell the scent of the first pita bread with my nostrils.

  We were all in a huge Bedouin tent, with the most beautiful Afghan carpets, to sit or lie down. Hardly had we lain on the carpet, the first ones were already asleep. But they were quickly awake again after our hosts distributed the first round of hashish. There was lamb accompanied with the still hot loaves of bread and I got out a bottle of Johnny Walker from my possession.

  Those did not smoke, could refresh themselves on whisky or drink till they were tired. I think, all of them drank and smoked. It was a long unforgettable night. Those who did not get drunk or stoned at least by midnight had only themselves to blame. But even I had enough of everything and so I went to sleep very early.

  It was great to wake up between two nice girls on an Afghan. I mean the Afghan carpet, on which we had slept like in heaven. It was so or similar to that in the hippie paradise. Not that the border officials wanted to somehow harm us or possibly make us addicted, by offering us the possibility of smoking, it was just a gesture of friendship. The American Indians also did not want to make anyone addicted, when they offered the peace pipe. Here was this big debate, which no one wanted to or could explain correctly.

  I am of the opinion that pure (?) tobacco cigarette is more addictive than a non-adulterated cannabis joint.

  Of course I can speak only for myself.

  Later in Europe in Germany, where I did not smoke any substance anymore, simply because I did not want (had) it any more, I was able to stop it overnight.

  But as for cigarettes, I needed almost thirty years, till I finally became free from it.

  I met Afghans and Nepalese proudly aged hundred years having bent backs. They had been smoking their pipes from the age of ten. Of course, it was not the imitation found in Europe, which was so adulterated, botched up and determined by greed, into which all kinds of impossible things are mixed. Headache tablets, opium and other things – main thing is that the children are not well. Then they say that that was the big kick.

  Chris was allowed to stamp the entry stamp in the 48 passports herself. The passport official only signed under it, which looked like a small painting. Whoever wanted could take a nugget of hashish with them and I was allowed to finally continue driving – passing Herat up to Kandahar.

  After a short night, we drove on and reached Kabul in the evening. I parked the bus in front of the Mustafa Hotel and announced two nights of sleep. This was already my third visit to Kabul in this hotel. Of course this was of advantage to me, since my hippies truly had respect for me and they showed it to me too by inviting me all the time for tea and a chat.

  I could answer many of their questions correctly.

  For the young people, I was already an old man since I was over thirty, who was on the ball and they liked that.

  That they sometimes compared me with their parents and wished that they were like me. It made me sad however since I was not such a shining light at home; there I was the big loser.

  It was just my world, always on the go, always experiencing something new and always accepting a challenge. The bigger the problem it was the more attractive, to find a solution and to enjoy the triumph. Also the girls, for whom I was probably sometimes a father figure, liked to sit at my table and discuss with me. But I had two girls, so to speak. I would have preferred it if it had been only one in my room. It had become common that I slept overnight in one room with three beds with the both of them, ever since Teheran. So always with two girlfriends in one room I didn't dare to show any form of endearment or intimacies with Chris - there was absolutely no question of sex or shagging. But I was certain that my day or my night was yet to come.

  We left Kabul and drove down the Kabul Gorge -Afghanistan Highway No.1 - in the direction of Jalalabad and up the Khyber Pass.

  I stopped at the highest point, where there was the small village of the Pashtuns.

  All were allowed to get off and I showed them the hashish market, which I had declared as vegetable stand by mistake. My hippies were quite amazed about such a range of different types and colors of the beloved substance. This was exactly the reason why almost all of them had taken the efforts to travel to another country as pilgrims, where the possession or enjoyment of the substance was not prohibited. And that too at a price that you pay just for a kilo of mangos in America or Europe.

  Since the customs authorities did not take it so lightly in India like the Afghanis or the Pakistanis here, only so much were allowed to be purchased, which would be used up the Indian border.

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bsp; I announced loudly and clearly about it. I did not want to lose any of my passengers at any border and I didn’t want any trouble.

  I had to rethink again in Pakistan because I had forgotten that I had to drive on the other side of the street.

  The colorful trucks and the even more colorful buses were not driven so fast as in Europe, so I could correct my mistakes without any damage.

  At the border crossing Atari Road to India, my incorrupt border official was still in service of the Indian Government and was thrilled to see me again.

  He saw my load of hippies and came into the bus to address us briefly.

  He was somehow more serious than before and warned my group against believing that it was allowed to own, buy or to sell hashish in India. Also, all valuables such as radios, cameras, cash and travelers checks had to be entered in the passport.

  Exchanging money in black market was illegal and punishable, he said. Someone clever guy ventured to ask why the government did not prohibit the black market. The small Sikh replied that the black market was prohibited and if he did not exchange his money in the bank, he would be sent to jail.

  At the end, the incorruptible officer pointed to the garbage can, which was in front of the toilets. If anyone wanted to get rid of something, he could do that there. I had already warned my people earlier that if they had anything, they should give it to me, since I knew of better hiding places. They could have them back behind the border. I assumed that everyone had given me their things and I packed them with mine. I knew that they were in a safe place.

  My little Sikh gave the order to four soldiers after all had gotten off the bus, to check the bus. The soldiers were thorough and found 500 g sheets of green Pakistani hashish in an English woman’s rucksack. Of course I got into trouble with my Sikh.

  I talked with him, that is to say, man to man and contended that the girl was sorry and I was sorry too of course. And if he would be satisfied if the girl paid an appropriate penalty of $50.

  He did not take the bait but I did not give up and I told him that he could give the money to the temple in Amritsar. Many people would be fed with food there every day and this money could feed many hungry people.

  For a while he looked at me, I nodded to him and gave him the fifty dollars. He also took it only with the remark again that it was only for the temple. The silly goose now did not have her shit or the fifty dollars anymore. The poor thing lamented and cried me a river. But I had to stay firm and demand for the dollars from her, which I had handed over to the Sikh in advance.

  After Amritsar, at the first tea stop, all of them got their things back again and I had once again collected some plus points.

  I enjoyed a lamb curry and some chapattis, when an old woman sat at the roadside and I saw how she fetched the rest of my chapathis from the roadside, which the cook had thrown to the dogs from my plate. The woman chased away the dogs, gathered the rest for herself, sat on the roadside and ate them. I waved to the cook and ordered a portion of lamb curry, a large bowl of rice, a bowl of dahl and ten chapathis.

  When everything was there, I got it sent to the old woman.

  The chef just shook his head.

  The woman took two chapathis, poured some curry sauce and dahl and told the cook that she had enough.

  She declined, came to me and I saw tears in her eyes.

  She wanted to kiss my feet and I could only prevent it by pressing her away from me.

  With a lot of the gesticulations and with my few Hindi words, I succeeded in telling the old woman to take the rest of her food.

  Very carefully she packed the food in banana leaves, then in her sari and came to me once again and thanked me by kissing my hand, which I could not prevent. I would have almost cried because of the whole thing. How poor must a human being be, if he or she was so pleased and thankful about such a little thing? From then on, this group trusted me fully and blindly, no matter what I told them or wanted. I parked the bus in Delhi at Connaught Place and the trip ended.

  The five persons, who had paid up to Nepal, received their 30$ back. There was no circus, but instead a big thank you for the wonderful trip.

  First I needed a break.

  Chris and Mary were also still there, who wanted to go in a different direction. In the meantime, we three had become a good team and I hated the idea that we had to separate from one another here. Perhaps they did not intend to travel further? I had to talk to them about it and ask them what they really wanted to do and where they wanted to go from here. So far there had not been any success in entering into a sexual relationship and it did not look like that this would ever happen.

  I visited Mr. Goya from the Student-Travels at the Imperial Hotel. He was very surprised about my visit, also the fact that I had come by bus and had brought possible customers.

  But I made a different request to him.

  He thought that the idea of travelling to Goa by bus was good and said he would start with the booking immediately. Also we agreed on a commission for him. I would get 50 Rupees per traveler; that was approximately 25 Deutschmark. That would be sufficient for me for at least thirty travelers. A liter of Diesel cost me only 1.20 Rupees. It was agreed that I would travel in four days irrespective of the number of passengers.

  I met Chris and Mary in the bar and we talked and made plans how it should go on from now on. It was the first time that I had enough time that I could thank Chris for her help with the passenger lists and for helping me from going to sleep for a few seconds by helping with music and her conversations. I also thanked Mary that she supported Chris so well. Since the girls did not have any room, I asked them if they would agree if I could arrange for a room as my last thanks.

  They agreed and so Mary got a single room, which she first did not agree. Chris was able to convince her however that it was ok and that it should be so. Inevitably we, Chris and I, had behaved very reservedly in front of Mary and had suppressed our liking for one another.

  Both we knew that there would be no holding back any longer at a point of time. Exactly this time was finally come.

  In our room, only the two of us!

  There we could not control ourselves.

  We let go, and fell on each other like wild animals! Tender love was probably something else, but so hungry, as our bodies were for sex, one could only speak of a sexual gratification. Of course there was a great deal of inclination to one another, otherwise it would not have been happened. Chris was not the girl who immediately jumped into bed with anyone. We had enough time to get to know each other. But the sexual drive was also the ultimate winner in her case. Only after we had calmed down a bit and our bodies had given what they requested that we had our tenderness and we made love often in this night.

  The next morning we felt just good!!!! I asked Chris how she felt and she confirmed to me with her radiant smile that she had never experienced such a night and was still floating on a cloud! Even I had enjoyed this night till I got exhausted, even though I had already given up hope that something like that was still possible. The doubts regarding women were gone first of all and I had the proof that love and respect still existed. After our breakfast together, I went on my way to visit Martin and Mala. Chris wanted to go on a shopping trip with Mary and discuss with her when they wanted to travel further.

  The new Indian bus company owners were not at all impressed by the Indian bureaucracy because the buses were still in the customs yard in Old Delhi. There was no possibility that he could ever get the buses on the road.

  He invited me for the evening to his house. They told me that I could get acquainted with Indira Gandhi there, because an uncle of Mala was quite a big person in the politics and a friend of Gandhi. Together they wanted to once again to find out if there was an official way for import. For certain loopholes with bribe money, it was too late, since this case was already known in the parliament. The problem is that the buses were registered in Mala’s name, without having applied for an import license beforehand. If
they had been registered in Martin’s name, he could have sold the buses to Mala and she could have paid the customs duty and the matter would have been OK. But so as it was? You could not apply for an import license to buy something in Germany, which was already in the country.

  These operations of import of vehicle sounded very familiar to me. The Mercedes had the same problem in Colombo and we had to go out of the country with it. The same thing would happen to Martin with his buses.

  Mrs. Gandhi came with Mala’s uncle and some security people privately to Mala’s family. After an hour of the tea drinking, the session came to an end and it was definite that Martin would have make a trip to Afghanistan. I was sorry that after so much of effort and exertion, it was all in vain. Only the Afghans did not have such strict import regulations and could also buy older cars and buses from tourists. It was also possible in Nepal. These countries did not have money for new vehicles or they did not want to or were not allowed to show money.

  Officially, they could otherwise be asked where the money came from and it could cause problems for one or the other persons.

  Back in the hotel, the ladies had their plan ready and were sure that they wanted to travel with me to Goa. Not only was I happy, Chris was also happy that we still had some time together. No lists had to be written, so the ladies had time to concentrate fully on talking to me! Chris and I did not have the need to play hide and seek because I was sure that Chris had spoken to Mary about the night, since I could not shake off the feeling that Mary was a little jealous. But Chris did not notice it. I also could not help feeling that Mary believed that she would have had more of a chance with me if she had helped me at the beginning. Now and then she came to me with somewhat too much of a body contact with me though it had not been necessary. I did not give any chance for her to have hopes and was very nice to Chris just so that she could see it. We were even.