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waited by the ticket office. I stood there looking at the Mediterranean Sea knowing that
on the horizon was… Africa. I didn't really have time to second guess my decision for the
clerk arrived and quickly readied himself for his morning's sales. I asked for the cheapest
ticket possible and perhaps out of pity he allowed me to put my bike on for free. Before
boarding,IconvertedmyremainingpesetastoMoroccandirhamandtookaquickphotoof
my bike next to the ship that was to take me to Africa.
I walked my bicycle onboard and strapped it to the ship's hull. I went to the upper
deck to eat which, in hindsight, was a big mistake. As soon as we left port, the ship was
bobbing up and down in the rough waters and I began to feel queasy. To take my mind off
the rocking motion, Isat at the bartowatch the Olympics onthe small television above the
register.
Periodically,Iwouldlookawayfromthetelevisiontoglancedirectlyinfrontofthe
ship. For the longest time I only saw open water. Eventually, on the horizon, Africa came
into view. The land was low-laying and light brown in colour. I imagined towering cliffs
andanimalsrunningamuck.TheOlympicswereignoredasIrushedtothewindowtogeta
closer look. My palms began to sweat. I was scared. For a few moments all the doubts and
“what if” questions flooded my thoughts. Will I be attacked by the mobs of people? What
will I do if my wheel buckles as a lion is chasing me? Will I die in Africa or be maimed?
Thank God reason overtook my emotions. I simply said to myself “one bridge at a time.”
It suddenly hit me that I was about to join a select group of people who were crazy enough
to cycle the vastness of Africa.
I was thinking about my two-dimensional world map that sat in my room in the
UK- the one I constantly stared at as I planned the distances. That map was now in front of
me in 3-D. It had form. It had colour. And soon, it was to have taste, sound, smell and feel.
Myheartbegantopoundastheshoreapproached.First,Icouldmakeoutthebuild-
ings and then the people on the docks as they hurriedly prepared for the ship's arrival. In
no time, the ship came alongside the dock and ropes were thrown to the dock workers. I
returned to my bicycle and prepared for arrival. I moved to the front of the ship and then
waited as the doors were slowly opened. With a burst of sun and dust swirling in the air, I
launched myself into Morocco…into Africa.
An immigration officer stamped my passport as soon as I arrived and I hurriedly
left the port. As soon as I entered the busy streets, I was inundated with people selling
everything and begging for une dirham (1 dirham). I just smiled and bid bonjour and
' Salem allikħom ' to everyone…even the cattle. However, I learned quickly not to wave or
speak to the women for they never responded.
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