Despair in the Darkness of Africa
There Is a Solution to Global Warming: Renaissance 2.0. - Spread the Word, We Can Save Our World
Escaping the Yoke
With its majestic vistas, endless steppes, coral reefs of the Indian Ocean, warm throughout the year, mountains, an extinct volcano with its own ecosystem teeming with life, great rivers, the Nile being the longest in the world, and, of course, Kilimanjaro, Africa is a magic continent.
It can also be a very dangerous one for the uninformed.
I fell in love with Africa the moment I arrived at the international Jan Smuts airport, now O. R. Tambo, with the coffee-stained front of my light beige trousers, the result of Boing 707 dropping precipitously in the air pocket. My pockets also contained my fortune - ten American dollars. I had no return ticket to Europe.
Being in my early twenties, life in South Africa was a dream; work was plentiful, the country was clean, everything worked, and small towns were idyllic.
I was a refugee from a communist dictatorship in another beautiful but poor country - Croatia. It was small and lovely. We call it "Our Beautiful" because it is.
My life in the diaspora started when I arrived in Munich on the evening of the Olympic Games opening ceremony.
Whims Of Life
By life playing games, in little more than a year, I ended up in South Africa instead of the US or Australia.
There is a saying that Africa bites you, and you get infected. I can attest to it.
I was messing about for just over a year as living was cheap. By working on construction for a month, one could live well for months. I took the full advantage of it. A year later, on New Year's Eve, I made resolutions to take life seriously, and I did. I found a steady job, and ten months later, I started a construction business with a 200 US$ welding machine.
Things were rough initially as I still spoke little English and had no business knowledge. After a while, I did some good quality jobs, got traction, and my company grew fast. I was making good money. My girlfriend and I travelled and explored beautiful spots in the magnificent country, had kids, and explored more magnificent spots.
All of us loved nature.
I got a few national awards, one being Entrepreneur of the Year. While travelling, we stayed in deluxe accommodations.
My paternal grandmother used to say: "Satan never sleeps," and, as in many other things, she was right. She also said that the yellow race would take over the world, the world's first end was watery, and the next one would be fiery. Both these predictions seem to have a good chance of turning out right.
However, if it ever happened, these events would be far in the future, and I didn't give it a second thought. They would never affect me, as many today believe global warming will not affect them.
Global warming is here now and is threatening our existence.
At the time, I was more preoccupied with getting the next big contract and selecting a game reserve or mountain lodge for my family's holiday during the next school break.
I was at the top of the curve when I won the contract on which I bid against big boys: erection of all mechanical equipment and fabrication and erection of piping on the biggest platinum refinery in the world.
The project was managed and engineered by one of the most prominent South African engineering and project management companies in the mining field. It had the reputation of screwing up the schedules of projects. The mine was owned by a major mining house, a part of one of the biggest mining companies in the world.
I dealt with gentlemen and professionals who were, by definition, honourable people.
The future was wide open.
What could go wrong?
A lot!
Before a book-sized contract was completed and signed by seven honourable people, I got going as the project was already running late; it always did. I invested a quarter million US$, equating to millions today, to develop the custom-built software.
Due to a lack of qualified labour, I also recruited sixty artisans from Portugal on a six-month contract. They were specialists in working on exotic materials required for the project. I sent them to the site alongside the entire management team, and they sat there for six months.
No drawings. Over six months, the incompetent fu*kers from the project management company delivered 600 disjointed drawings out of the about 6000 due. There was no chance of doing any serious work.
Without income, the project drained all my financial reserves, and to raise funds, I had to put my house as a surety for the bank loan. The Site Manager promised that they would compensate me for standing time.
It turned out the Site Manager was another honourable peace of shit.
Once the borrowed money was spent, the bank closed the tap.
I was screwed!
Mindshift
Everything around me crumbled, and I was about to lose my home. I would have to tell my family we must leave our beautiful home and move God knows where.
While I was writing this, on my Spotify Highway to Hell, AC/DC started playing, and one phrase jumped out: "My friends are gonna be there too; I'm on the highway to hell." Contrary to that, my extensive circle of friends quickly shrunk while I was drowning.
There was no outstretched hand.
I fought like hell and jumped through many loops, but I saved my home.
Our lifestyle changed. We replaced luxury accommodation with camping in beautiful places and diving along the Indian Ocean coast. We all loved it.
It was much more enjoyable to watch stars while sitting around the fire than sitting in a hotel watching the ceiling.
Fateful Decision
About six years later, we visited with a friend who introduced us to camping and was a veteran of camping around Southern Africa. The conversation turned to camping.
The war in Mozambique that had been going on for about thirty years was over, and although there were still bandits on roads, people travelled.
We concluded that it would be reasonably safe to go in the five-car convoy, two cars per family and one for their son's friend, who was also there. We decided to go.
It was about a 6,000-kilometer and six-week trip through Southern Africa covering six countries: Swaziland (now Eswatini), Mozambique, Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia and Zimbabwe. If it weren't for our knowledgeable friend, I would never have contemplated this kind of trip. It was a dangerous venture through the wilderness of Africa.
The trip didn't happen as planned.
Preparation for the six-week self-sufficiency was intense. We couldn't count on buying anything except fruit. I purchased a cheap thirty-year-old Landrover, and with my elder son helping, we thoroughly checked and serviced the car. We also built a structure to mount two roof-rack tents and enclose the back of the vehicle. Another four-wheel drive was a Nissan we borrowed from a friend.
Due to various engagements, we couldn't travel together and arranged to meet at Pomene Bay in Mozambique, 1,200 km from Johannesburg.
So, a fateful day arrived, and we set off. We stayed at the campsite in Swaziland the first night, and the second was at the missed ferry landing in Mozambique. The ferry was supposed to take us to an island with safe camping facilities. It left before we got there.
In the early morning, we set off for 550 km distant Pomene. The drive was rough and arduous; the roads were atrocious, and drivers could hardly keep their cars on the road; road rules were non-existent for locals. They harassed foreigners to extort bribes.
Pomene
We made it to Massinga by late afternoon, from where we had to take the dirt road to Pomene, 50 km away. We were practically there, and when we turned onto the dirt road, my wife and I had a celebratory beer and a cool drink for the kids. We also stretched our legs. We were in no harry.
Three hours later, I had a different opinion.
There is the expression that a night in Africa fell fast, and it does. We drove in darkness for about two hours, hoping that after passing each dune, the "road" would turn towards the ocean, which we knew must be on the other side of the dunes.
I kept wondering if we were lost. There was no way to tell. In the wilderness, the map was useless.
Finally, we came to the tunnel of trees and the thick bush and drove through it. Bananas and palm leaves were hanging across the road, sometimes wholly blocking my vision. It was a nightmare drive, and that was before I realised we were driving along the swamp.
The road that was about three metres wide, with swamps on one side and dunes on the other. There was no chance of turning back. It was one way.
Suddenly, we exited onto the beach. The fool moon was reflecting from the calm waters of the bay. The flickering ocean stretched to the horizon. That picture is still etched on my mind.
We were euphoric. The place was paradise, although it looked uninhabited. Then, we saw two figures approaching along the beach and pulled closer together. My friend's son and his friend were camping about a hundred metres away and saw our lights.
My friend arrived about three hours later.
We rested the next day in Pomene, exploring the fantastic beach and cliffs on which stood a hotel in ruins. The views were magnificent. Despite all this beauty, the place wasn't crowded. Only another two families were camping in the bay.
Breakup
We left for our next destination early next morning, but I wasn't a leader this time. My experienced friend took the lead. This arrangement lasted for about a hundred kilometres.
When we reached the tar road, we turned north. Not long after one of the boys' cars broke down. I cannot recall what was wrong, but we needed a part we could probably find in the town about 150 km back. On those roads, that was a long, long time.
We split up. Two boys would return to look for the part; my friend would stay with the broken-down car. My friend's wife and my family would go forward and set up camp in the place called Vilanculos.
Each car had a radio that worked in line of sight and had a limited range. A friend's wife took the lead and drove at the speed my old, heavily laden Landrover couldn't match. There were almost no road signs, and I didn't know where the campsite was. I tried to call her on the radio, but the signal was so weak that we couldn't communicate. She was far ahead.
Eventually, I found the campsite, complete with the guards carrying AK 47 on their rounds. The place was perfectly positioned along high ground by the sea. Arabian dhows, which I had never seen, glided on the calm sea.
I was pissed off and said so to my friend's wife. We had a few words.
My friend and the boys arrived in the evening. The situation was tense, and I told my friend that I wasn't prepared to subject my family to five weeks of this tense atmosphere and would go on my own. He agreed.
I discussed the situation with my family.
We were now two days from Johannesburg and could turn back or go on alone. I explained the potential dangers ahead without sugarcoating. Then, I asked each of them what they wanted us to do. They all wanted to go on.
It was unanimous.
At daybreak, we set off on a journey to the unknown.
Nightmare
Our objective was Gorongosa, the world-famous Nacional Park, with herds of thousands of African Buffalos. The tourist brochure said that it was open. The trip was 470 km, far too far on the potholed roads to cover in the day, but it was the only safe place we knew and could spend the night before continuing to Tanzania.
We drove on undrivable roads with potholes like trenches and a world devoid of civilisation. For hours, we wouldn't encounter another car. At times, our speed dropped to about thirty kilometres per hour.
We were never going to see Gorongosa in the daylight of that day.
Then Landrover broke down, but we managed to fix it, increasing speed and taking chances with the potholes.
Sun was already low when we hit the bridge over the Pungoe River. It was cut in two places by the bombs dropped by aeroplanes. Across each abyss, there was the ramp width of the car. One wrong move with the steering wheel, and that was it.
My wife, daughter and younger ten-year-old son crossed the abyss, holding onto the railing, and my elder son and I drove over while one of us was directing. It was frightening, especially when my son was driving, on which he insisted.
The dusk was thickening as we came to a steel bridge overlaid by planks, many of which were missing. We put together what was there to support cars and crossed.
Not long after we turned onto what the map showed was Gorongosa Road, the road disappeared into waist-high grass, restricting car lights. I drove on a feel. At one point, the front wheel fell into the hole, and we were millimetres away from turning over.
This nightmare lasted about an hour until we saw two concrete walls on each side of the gate, which didn't exist, with hardly legible signs saying Gorongosa. My heart jumped, and I was ecstatic. The last thing I expected was another nightmare.
Then I saw Gorongosa buildings, and my heart dropped. They were in ruins with bazooka holes looking like evil eyes of darkness.
I wasn't a church-goer, but this isolated place suddenly became my church. God was the only entity I could turn to.
We were an eternity of time removed from any semblance of civilisation. There was no going back. There was no going anywhere. It was the end of the road, and we would have to camp there.
Karma
We drove around to find a suitable place to set up the camp. As I rounded the buildings, car lights shone on the large group of men.
I cannot find words to describe my horror. I was beyond despair. My blood froze. These must be bandits.
I thought of my wife, thirteen-year-old daughter, and two teenage boys. There was nothing I could do to protect them. I had no weapon, but what could I do against so many people even if I did?
What have I done!!!
I stopped about fifty metres away from the group.
Normally, I don't panic and usually have plan B immediately, but my mind swirled in desperation. I couldn't see the way out.
It was hopeless, and all I had left was hope.
Then, a big guy emerged from the crowd and started walking toward us. I exited the car and walked towards him with a natural stride. There was no point in showing fear and desperation.
The scene was surreal. In the lights of Landrover, two of us were walking toward each other like two gunslingers in the Western movie.
I had a few more seconds of thinking time. Maybe I can make some deal.
When we were in front of each other, I looked into his eyes, said: "Good evening" and offered my hand. He accepted, and his grip was firm. I felt a little better.
"Do you speak English?" I asked. Mozambique is Portuguese-speaking.
"Yes", he answered.
"I read in the tourist brochure that the camp in Gorongosa has opened, and we were hoping to stay here for the night."
"As you can see, there was nowhere to stay," he said, sweeping his arm around.
"We have nowhere to go and only need a little flat ground. We will leave early," I said.
"We are rebuilding some chalets, and you can use one of them. We just put the roof on this one", he pointed at the closest chalet.
"Thank you, that would be great!"
We walked to the chalet. Inside was strewn with the building rubble.
I asked Chande, whose name in African cultures means "God's grace," if we could rather camp in the backyard, and he agreed.
We set up camp, had the fire going, took out whiskey, and asked Chande to join us for supper.
He was a leader of 60 people tasked with rebuilding Gorongosa's infrastructure and establishing if recent civil war enemies could work together. Thirty warriors were from one faction and the other thirty from another.
The following day, I noticed children from a nearby village came to look at us, and I asked Chandie about it.
"They haven't seen white people before", he answered.
We stayed in Gorongosa for three wonderful days.
When we left, we left friends behind. While on a business trip, Chande visited me in Johannesburg and stayed at my house for two days.
On Chande's advice, we skipped Tanzania and went to Malawi. He said there were too many bandits on that road and that I could not reach the nearest town in a day due to the atrocious road conditions. We would have to camp in the bush. I wasn't prepared to take another chance.
We later learned that the friends we separated from ran into bandits but managed to escape.
It was night when we reached the town of Tete, the provincial capital. Streets were packed with people, and at times, we were in danger of losing sight of another car, which was a nightmare. We were the only cars on the streets.
We were lost.
Eventually, the teenage boy jumped on Landover's footstep and shoved us to the restaurant on the banks of the Zambesi River. In the restaurant, it was the first time we had seen another white face since we had left Vilanculos.
There were no accommodation facilities in Tete, so we camped next to the Zambesi River, hiring two guys with ubiquitous AK 47s to guard us during the night. They charged us 10 US$ each.
Robbery
The next day, we reached Monkey Bay on Lake Malawi, previously called Lake Tanganyika and spent Christmas there. The second night after our arrival, a tropical storm dislodged the bird nest from the top of the palm.
My younger son found it. Miraculously, one chick survived, and he brought it to the camp. It was just about ready to fly. We put it into a shoe box and gave it food, but it wouldn't eat.
After a while, we noticed bird flying around chirping and the chick responding. It was the mother. We put the chick in the bush about fifty meters from our tents and left it so that mother could feed it.
It didn't take long until the chick and the mother were back. We put the chick back in the shoebox and put it in a convenient place for the mother to feed it, which she did. The next afternoon, the chick came out of the shoebox, and mother took it on the path behind the tents to teach it to fly.
It was surreal.
After several tries, it took off, and as it did, the falcon swooped down and took it. I have never seen my younger son's face so sad, as we all were. The mother kept crying. Even today, when I write about it, I experience profound sadness.
Sometimes life is shit!
We got robbed in a place called Chipata as we crossed from Malawi to Zambia while camping in a garden enclosed by high walls of the scientific facility on the edge of town. The guard was carrying a shotgun.
It took us two days to get to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe and buy some clothes because the only clothes we had left were those we wore.
My oldest son and I bungee jumped from the bridge over the Zambesi River bordering Zambia and Zimbabwe, which, at 111 meters, was advertised as the highest jump in the world at the time. It was a thrilling experience.
We drove into Johannesburg at the top speed of fifty kilometres per hour with three of six cylinders on the Landrover working. Since we left Gorongosa, it has been breaking almost every day, sometimes twice daily. When we opened it up at home, we found the exhaust valve bent on one cylinder, and the head gasket burned between two other cylinders. It took us two days from the Zimbabwe border to home.
Our Reality
While driving, I had a lot of time to reflect on our arrival to Gorongosa, the worst nightmare of my life. I have heard horrific things done to people captured by bandits.
Never before have I experienced such a feeling of helplessness and dread. It was by far the worst moment in my life.
Today, I look at my children, who now have children of their own, and I am experiencing a similar sense of helplessness and dread as I look at their future.
Daily reports on hurricanes, typhoons, cyclones, droughts, melting glaciers, floods, wars and, above all, ever-increasing global warming fueling all other occurrences are almost daily news. One day, some of these events will coincide and cause worldwide famine with tragic consequences.
Global warming is humanity's biggest problem, and it seems that most of the world's population believes it to be unsolvable. The problem is reinforced by gaslighting mainstream media reports owned by oligarchs for whom global warming is the significant profit stream.
I have been thinking about the problem for years, not knowing what to do. Then I had an idea.
If I could prove that we can mitigate the rise in global temperature within ten years, I would motivate people worldwide to do what they can or create groups to do more significant projects. If they believed that it could be done, it could be done.
Once I got the idea, I got to grips with it. Challenges were enormous and multiple, but I could not live with myself not trying to help my loved ones to ensure a promising future.
So, I got the project going. Risking my physical and financial health, I started working on the Global Project Plan under the name of Renaissance 2.0.
We need Renaissance to put things right. I worked seven days a week for a year, driving my family and me crazy.
It was a nightmare. Whenever I started working on an aspect of the Project Plan, be it renewable energy, clean water and air, Environmental Economy, agriculture, transportation, or any other pillar of the economy, it was like opening a Pandora's Box. The eruption of problems would hit me.
I am just about useless at filing, so working on different subjects and putting the data together soon became chaotic. Stuff was all over. Every once in a while, I would take time to bring it to some order, but a month or so later, I had to do it again. At those times, I would sink into depression.
Many times, I thought I was going to go insane, and I am sure that, at times, I was close to it.
Frequently, I thought of giving up, but I couldn't. I had no option; I had to put it together, and if it didn't work - I would have done my best.
Eventually, after about ten months into the project, I could see the contours of the project and knew I would finish it.
As the Project Plan started coming together, I realised the whole immensity of the undertaking and the enormous resources required.
I started looking for a vehicle that I could use to reach and motivate people to join and promote the project, shore up my finances, and generate funds for further development of the Renaissance 2.0 Initiative. The choice fell on Substack and Medium.
By researching various aspects of the environment and climate, I gained sufficient knowledge that made me realise where we are in the climate cycle and what is coming.
My heart tells me that I will motivate enough people to alter the curve and succeed, but the traction is very slow, but this is climate urgency.
The more I learn, the more terrified I am about our future if we continue on this path. The fear is about as intense as it was in Gorongosa when I believed that I could lose my family and my life.
I paused the Project Plan development and switched to writing articles to get Renaissance 2.0 known and get some traction. I was under the impression that this kind of project would attract some traction.
I got a bit of traction, but not nearly as much as I thought the Renaissance 2.0 would attract. After all, it is about participation in saving our world by stopping it from reaching the point of no return.
People say it takes time; you must market, build community, and so on. Those are all good pieces of advice, but like most others, I have a time problem, as I have a bread-and-butter software development business where I have to spend at least half of my time.
There is very little time for writing and marketing, and I need help.
Our world does not have time. Every day, we delay doing what we can, we allow global warming to get us closer to the point of no return.
It is not far off!
As a subheading of every article, I ask readers to "spread the word". Those who believe the project is an unattainable dream consider that you might be wrong. You cannot be sure.
Click and give our world a chance.
Please do something: switch off the light, plant the seed, spread the word, join in and become an Architect of Change. Make a move.
Spread the word; we can save our world!
Make the click!
Together, we can win!!!
Previous Article on Renaissance 2.0: https://renaissance20.substack.com/p/the-evolution-of-success-redefining