She grabs her chammy cream She packs her red box and goes She checks the washing list on the wall Curses come from her throat ‘Cause she knows She’ll be here much too long, scrubbing pots He smokes his cigarettes He stays supine ‘till it’s gone Funny how we couldn’t see it all Till he won his stage In Sudan Wearing steel toed boots and his jeans And we always say Cape Town is still a few months away, TDA And if we keep on pedallin’ like we do Even with our runny poo The trouble understand Is we’ve got bike parts he don’t He would do anything short of a crawl And ‘bleat’ like a goat So we know Just by what’s been said at a ‘Rider Meeting’ And we always say Cape Town is still a few weeks away And if we keep on pedallin’ like we do Even with a broken left, shoe Now the race is done Back in the toilets we pee Have to ween ourselves from the shovel And we change our clothes But we know The biggest thing we’ll miss, is my flatulence And we’ll always say Cape Town is, only a day’s ride away TDA And if we keep on pedallin’ like we do A different meat that we will now chew Well we, always say Cape Twon is only a few k away And if we keep on pedallin’ like we do Bikes held together with super glue Our butt cheeks turing black and blue I’m finally done now for listening, thank you Andy C.

'This Stage put another hole in my ass' Nels H 'Arid, bumpy, beautiful, rough, free, rocky, peaceful and hot' Paddy T 'Ideal Recipe: really rough offroad, guinness, drum tobacco and eventually tarmac (to please everybody)' Gunther T 'Superb: exactly what I was expecting from biking in Africa' Remy B 'Corregations, sweat and a sore bum. But peaceful and no rock throwing children' Alice R 'Meltdown Madness, because there is not enough suffering in the world' David P 'A true test of mind and body' Shaun M 'Everybody had to employ a different strategy to get through that REALLY BAD PART. One strategy (highly recommended) was to skip the whole thing. Other than THAT PART, this section was super awesome complete with spear toting ethiopians, donkeys attempting to mate and a big welcome to Kenya.' Leigh Anne S

Elaine Morwood 'Tendrils of mist rise off the savannah in the light of dawn. In the distance I hear the low echoing harmony of the men singing; raising the watre hand over hand from the spring to the surface. I raise my face to the sky and breathe in the crouching energy of the land. My bike is hungry for the road, my mind for the experience and my sould for the revelation that is Africa; tormentor and teacher.' Adrie Frijters 'The Blue Nile Gorge time trial was the hardest of my racing career' David Papenfus 'A shit day on the Tour d'Afrique is better than a good day anywhere else'

It’s a rest day in Addis, and a chance to dislodge what I once considered a natty pair of Diadora cleats from the hungry grasp of my trusty, but clearly now out-dated steed’s stiffening peddles; a chance to surrender, and have someone else refresh the variously faded and filthy bits and pieces of bottom-softened spandex that we all seem to swear by wearing; and a chance to think a little of what trespassing down this thin line across the Sudan, and now through Ethiopia this past month has meant to me. First, there’s the meaning of my body. And a slowly accumulating pleasure in finding out that I’ve become just a little fitter. Of discovering that what I once would have thought entirely improbable now seems quite achievable -- that a century of rolling hills a day, across unrelenting sand and stone and under an unreasonable sun, can be done; that slipping down a 1300m slope and up the other side of a disgorged Nile can be fun. Second, there’s the meaning of my bike. And a happy recognition -- from someone who has never really ridden the thing -- that it can be comforting to abandon oneself to its meditative cadences. And so, at the moment at any rate, even in this current mud-sodden and rapidly rusting state; she feels more like a comfortable couch than the instrument of torturous intent I’d figured her for in a short pre-trip peddle around the corner from a Cape Town home just over a month ago. And third, there’s the meaning of the map that sits besides my race number. And a renewed appreciation, as I watch the wonder of the world pass by each day, acquiring in the process some sense of my own existence that this ‘tour of freaks’ across a continent has very little do with a sense of personal accomplishment or endurance; of measuring incremental steps in a quest to cover it all off; or remembering the proper order of things and people and places. Rather, that this map of Africa is one that has helped me to celebrate being displaced; in having my own ordered sense of the world continuously disrupted by experiences that always suggest the fragility of a shared human condition.. So, for Rider Three-One-Three at least, the section from Khartoum to Addis Ababa, called ‘The Gorge’, has been full of memories and meaning that could have happened anywhere in the world where people meet. Accept of course that we’ve learnt to say ‘salaam’ (hello) and ‘amasiganalo’ (thank you) when some shy kid sticks out his hand or a stick and lobs you with a stone as you struggle up yet another undulating ascent.

As the days counting down to the end of our Tour d'Afrique become fewer and fewer, we have become more and more aware of the fact that our days in Africa are numbered. We have now entered Namibia and have 2 rest days in the country's beautifully modern capital, Windhoek. I have to admit to you all that the further South we go, the less and less we feel like we are really in “Africa.” If you blink your eyes, Windhoek could be Ottawa or Montreal – there are shopping malls, movie theaters, restaurants and fast food chains, tons of tourists, supermarkets and all the same amenities we have at home. It is only once we leave the city limits and that we are once again in the countryside that the feeling that we are in Africa returns. There, we are surrounded by tall grasses, as far as the eye can see, open horizons and tall mountain ranges. Namibia's landscape has so far been a big improvement over Botswana's, mainly because there is something new to look at. Having arrived in Windhoek just yesterday, we took our time relaxing and walking around the city. In our last stretch, I continued my search for an elephant, and sadly, I was disappointed. Nothing to see out there at all! I did get to see some wild dogs, apparently an endangered species, so I guess that is still pretty good. My mom promised to take me to Granby Zoo when I go home, so I don't feel so bad. There are still almost 14 days left on this tour and although we are going through more populated and developed areas, there is always the outside chance, however minute, that I may still see an elephant on the road. I think my letdown about missing out on seeing an elephant was relieved by the fact that I am supremely proud of myself for a recent accomplishment, a first (and I think, a last!) for me. Three days ago, our Tour Director announced that the following day, we would have a distance of 207 kilometers to cover from Ghanzi, Botswana to the Namibian Border town of Buitenpos! – our longest day of the Tour - We were well aware of the fact that this day was coming up sometime soon and I was horrified that it had crept up on me so fast. A friend of mine on the Tour, Paul, a funny young Irish guy, and I made a pact that I would bike the entire day and finish it. I told one of our truck drivers, Douwe (pronounced Dowa), about what we were doing and he decided to join us for the adventure. We pedaled all morning, reaching the 87-kilometer lunch stop by 10:00 am. By this point, although we had started before everyone, most people had already passed us. To give you all an idea about this, we were biking an average of 25 kilometers an hour, but the top racers are doing between 35 and 40 kms. Getting to lunch was the easy part. We were still energized, excited, having fun and strategizing for the rest of the day. Paul, my fearless leader-cum-dictator, had scheduled set break times and Douwe and I followed his rigorous and meticulous plan. After 25 kilometers, we would get a four-minute break. Paul would keep his eyes on his watch the whole time and the second time was up, we were back on the bikes. The atmosphere between the three of us was really cheerful and upbeat and even though we were pedaling, it didn't feel like too much work. After lunch, getting to the half-way point, 103 kilometers, we stopped to celebrate with a two-minute break and energy bar boost. Although we were beginning to pedal slower than before, we were still having a fun time. Reaching the 150- kilometer refreshment stop, we were doing great. We arrived there earlier than scheduled and so we got an extra bit of time to rest, almost a full half an hour! By that point, mistakenly, I believed that we had this day in the bag and that it was going to be a piece of cake the rest of the way. I mean what was another 60 kilometers after what we had just done? Any soreness I was feeling was pushed to the wayside and with the three of us getting along so well, we weren't worried at all about finishing the day. We left the refreshment stop a little before 3:00, and figured we needed at most three hours to get to the Finish flag at the Namibian border. The last 60 kilometers were by far the hardest. After already having spent more than 8 hours on the road, pedaling was exhausting. We were sweaty and tired, our legs moving of their own volition but requiring so much exertion anyway. We were getting tired and sore but spirits remained high. We took several unscheduled stops, with Paul's permission (actually, I think he was the one that suggested them because he was getting really tired too), and found cold Cokes at the most random and remote broken down, side-of-the-road stops. Nearing the 200 kilometer mark, Paul raced ahead and pulled some long grasses across the road as a makeshift marker line. The three of us had another celebration at this point and the realization that we were getting closer and closer came over us. We still had nearly 10 kilometers to go at this point (the distance turned out to be closer to 212 kilometers overall total) and so we slogged along, slowing way down. At this point, the sky was turning a beautiful deep orange and the sun was far into its descent. Our Tour Director, Randy, can't cross any border until all the riders are over in case there is any trouble and so when we finally saw him at the side of the road, we knew we were almost there. I finished the last couple of kilometers on pure euphoria at what we had just accomplished. I couldn't believe that we had reached the end. At the border post, my legs were so shaky I could barely stand, let alone remember my own name to fill out on the immigration forms. I must have stared at the form for a good 5 minutes before I could decipher what the heck I was supposed to do. We biked to the camp on the other side of the border, a mere 500 meters, and it was about 6:15. We arrived completely weary and worn out, but we had made it. People cheered and clapped and everyone was really happy for us. We arrived last, after nearly 12 hours on the road, but we DID IT! Through the pain and fatigue, I couldn't stop smiling as people came over to congratulate us. I, Ayesha Harji, biked 207 kilometers! I will (most likely if I'm smart!) never do that again, but I can now say that I have done it! I can now visualize biking from my house to Ottawa, more than 2 hours away by car! More than anyone else's reaction, I am proud of myself. There were so many times when I wanted to stop, but we did it! I feel like now, I can do anything I set my mind to. This was a challenge that can be used as a metaphor for anything else I decide sincerely that I want to do. I feel a new sense of motivation and drive, and it's wonderful!

Yevo from Malawi. Well we are currently in Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, ostensibly the poorest country that we will visit on the Tour. Our ride from Tanzania was amazing, with breathtakinglandscapes and uphillclimbs that literally took your breath away. I think that Tanzania was my favorite country to be in, not only for the biking, but also because of our amazing side trip to Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar. Dar was so relaxing, and really helped to ease the mountains ofstress that had been piling up on my head. I think that constantly seeing so much poverty and destitution had finally taken its toll on me. Our family in Dar really took wonderful care of us, and treated us like royalty. We got to visit some of my parents' old haunts from when they were younger and even got to go out to Zanzibar. Zanzibar was nothing like what I expected. I sort of imagined this exotic, luxurious place but in fact, it is really quite a poor city. The streets of Stonetown, where we stayed, were incredibly narrow, allowing only one car to squeeze by at a time. Even in this remote corner of Africa, we found Aga Khan Foundation projects up and running incredibly well. We visited a Madrassa school teachers development program, where teachers from small rural communities are trained so that they can return back to their communities and start schools. The AKF program not only teaches them about the curriculum and how to implement it properly, but also about accounting and management so that they can run the school well. It was really an impressive project and I was surprised to see it. All across the region, even as far as the remote border town of Mbeya, Tanzania, we have come across Aga Khan Health Centers and Dispensaries. The Foundation is doing really wonderful work, providing services to all segments of the population, in places that have been ignored by many other organizations and governmental bodies. I'm really proud of the work that is being done! Malawi, however, is completely different. Before anything, I have to thank Reza Khalfan for getting us the malaria medication that we needed because there are definitely a LOT of mosquitoes and we are in some high-risk areas.Reminiscent of Ethiopia, in Malawi,there are always plenty of kids watching us, picking up our trash and anything else we discard to see if it has some value or if they can use it, and asking for money. One day, as we set up lunch, one young boy watched us make sandwiches. If anything fell on the ground, into the dirt, like a few crumbs of bread, he would run over, pick it up and stuff it in his mouth. Never before have I experienced or witnessed that kind of hunger and it made me so sad to watch him, my own sandwich turned into a lump in my throat and i couldn't swallow. It's been pretty tough. The other thing here in Malawi is that they are having one of the continent's worst struggles with AIDS. Inevery, and i mean EVERY, town we pass, there are always many coffin makers. I remember reading a speech by Stephen Lewis where he said that he had encoutnered towns and towns full of people making coffins who were doing great business because they just couldn't keep up with the demands for coffins. People here are dying at an incredible rate and about one third (ONE THIRD) of the population here in Malawi has AIDS. Talk about a serious crisis. Besides coffin makers, the only other institutions that seem to be flourishing are the orphanages to house the children whose parents have died from the disease. I realize now that no matter what we do in the West, it will never be enough. Not to be entirely pessimistic, Malawi has to be one of the most beautiful countries we have passed through. OUr first rest day in this country was on the gorgeous Lake Malawi, with the waves and sand lapping at our toes and a hilly escarpment (that we subsequently climbed!) on the other. the chitimba beach resort had everything that we needed - places for our tents, good food and drinks, and of course, the warm water that we swam in all day. By far, that was my favorite rest day, and of course, it ended just as quickly as it had started. Well this of course, turned out not to be as short as planned, but one last thing - we're less than a month and a half away from the end! We still have 4 countries to go and timeflies by when you're having fun like this. We know, just like most of my friends at school right now, that the end is near and we're just coasting towards the finish line!!! Take care and keep those emails coming, we love getting them!

Africa during the daytime is a lethargic place, stifled by the sloth inducing heat and humidity. The pace is slow and the energy level only begins to rise as the sun begins to set and cooler weather prevails. In the bush, the night takes on a different atmosphere and comes alive with the rhythm of Africa: hyena woops, donkey brays, cows moo, dogs bark and howl, villagers talk loudly, shout or sing, birds, insects, etc. and on a few occasions, the you can even hear the distant thumping of drums. Three or four nights in Ethiopia, I lay in my tent listening to drums and the occasional chanting coming from far away, wanting to go out there and see what was going on but hesitant to wander out of camp on my own into the bush and the pitch black night. I entertained images of tribal dancing and drumming in all sorts of masks and costumes, the kind of African gathering portrayed on TV. I asked Randy, the tour director who is pretty much down for anything and has been on the last three tours, if he had ever gone off to see what was going on, and he told me that he had a few times, usually it was a village party and the next time I heard something I should go grab him and we'd check it out. Unfortunately, for the next month the opportunity never arose. So Wednesday night I went back to my tent after another seemingly routine day, most people already having gone to sleep. We were at a bush camp, about 300 meters from a nearby village of 15 or so mud and brick dwellings, separated only by a barren field. It was one of those impossibly hot and humid days during the rainy season and after doing a little reading (A continent for the taking: The tragedy and hope of Africa, definitely check it out, a good history of how Europe, oil companies and America did West Africa) I found it impossible to sleep. Laying in my tent, thinking about what I'm going to order at Wendy's when I get home, I started to hear some faint drumming in the distance, but it would only go for about five minutes and then stop. I debated whether or not to go try to find someone to go with me and whether or not to go at all, and after about ten minutes decided to at least get out of my tent and see if anyone was awake and down to check it out. I came to Africa to see what was going on, so I was gonna go out there and see what the hell was going on. I was apprehensive to go by myself, not out of fear of any violence coming to me from the people, but the usual apprehension one has when going to a party alone where he doesn't know anyone, except in this situation instead of it being the friends of a friend or something of that nature, it would be a bunch of Tanzanian villagers. It could be pretty pretty pretty pretty awkward. Anyway, walking around the camp, I didn't see anyone up and I didn't feel right waking anyone, so I headed to my tent dejectedly, hoping that I would get this opportunity again. Just when I was about to get back in and call it a night, I saw a headlight bobbing in the field between the campsite and the village. I waited to see who it was and was surprised to see Randy. He had been having a few drinks in the middle of the field with three of the other staff members, had heard the drumming, and had came back to the camp to get his drum. We headed off to the field and met up with Miles,Samantha, and John, not knowing what to expect and what we would see. It was pitch black, the moon wasn't out, and the only lightcame from the vast amount of stars in the clear sky and the lightning coming from a storm quite far off in the distance, which looked likefireworks going off in a distant town. We walked up to find a group of villagers, about 10-15 small children and a few village elders, who were singing, drumming, and dancing in a big group. There were also a bunch of spectators from the villages and a few young mothers with their babies clinging to their back. They didn't stop singing when we came, and they laid out a few small wooden benches for us to sit on and watch. None of them spoke a word of English, and because of the darkness we couldn't see their faces and they couldn't see ours, only silhouettes. Still, I got the impression that they were waiting for us. The group was apparently some sort of children's choir led by a few of the elders, and I got the impression that they were probably singing some sort of church hymns with their own traditional African folklore style, and they were dancing as well. Their voices were amazing and they sang with a brilliant harmony and power, and it was unbelievable and exactly the type of thing you hope and pray you'll get to experience when you come to a place like Africa. Occasionally there was a break for what seemed like a prayer, and then they continued singing and dancing. The darkness and the inability to see their faces just made everything a whole lot more beautiful. Randy busted out his drums and played along with them and the rest of us danced the dance of the goofy white man in a big circlewith the other silhouettes. A distinct observer would have had no trouble picking us out, however, as the Tanzanians moved gracefully withthe type of rhythm that can only be innate and we moved with the type of unrhythmic movements, the flailing arms and spastic movements,that could only be that of the Caucasian North American. Except for me, of course. I move like a jellyfish, rhythm is nothing, it don't stop.It went on like this, them singing these amazing African hymns, occasionally doing a call and answer routine or letting the children sing solos,and dancing, us dancing and attempting to sing in Swahili, Randy playing the drums, well into the night for what could have been 20 minutes or what could have been 2 hours. At one point, the villagers took a break and Randy played "get up, stand up" on his drum and sang for theAfricans, who enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed their singing and dancing. When the night was coming to a close, all the children and elders grew silent and then started an aggressive prayer chant, everyone going at their own pace and ticking their heads in a weird way and combined with the darkness and the seriousness and aggressiveness in their tone it kind of freaked me out. The next day, Matt, now known as Captain America , told me the first time he had seen the same type of chanting in a South African township it freaked him out as well. The night ended with the group of children walking us back to camp, singing another song the entire way, and then the five of us walking back to camp repeating the word "wow" every 20 seconds or so.

We're in Arusha for a 3 day break, in the shadows of Kilimanjaro. Unfortunately it has been cloudy since we arrived so haven't properly seen the famous view yet. Have seen Mount Meru (the 3rd highest peak in Africa) clearly though. Most of the group has gone on a 3 day safari to Ngorongoro crater and the Serengeti, but a smaller bunch of us decided we needed the rest and so just went for a day and a night to the crater. The crater is incredible. In the crater of an extinct volcano, 30 000 animals live cut off from other populations. With in the space of 2 hours we saw elephant, black rhino, lion, buffalo (4 of Africa's Big Five game), hyena, wildebeest, gazelle, hartebeest, zebra, hippo, and quite a lot of bird life. We saw so much so quickly, we were almost burnt out at the end. Inspired by his time in the US Air Force, Cory (our tame Kentuckian) has organized Moustache March. A few of the guys (excluding the beard growers) have been growing moustaches for the month of March and the results will be judged on the night of our rest day in Malawi. We get our new truck crew tonight, the 3 guys (Eddie, Errol, and Christo) who have brought us safely this far need a break from us after 2 months. Even though we are still 6000 km from South Africa, it is starting to feel like we're in an outpost of SA. I spent last night watching South African rugby (on a South African satellite channel), dinking South African cider and eating biltong. For breakfast this morning I had South African muesli and fruit juice. I forgot to write about this earlier, but when we crossed the equator there was a guy at the sign with a bowl of water and a small funnel. He said he'd demonstrate how coriolis force changes the direction the water runs down a funnel (clockwise/anti-clockwise) depending on which side of the equator you are. I was pretty skeptical as I reckoned you would need to be at least a few km away for the effect to be significant, but he only went 20m either side of the sign. And to my suppose the little bits of straw did spin either direction either side of the sign and didn't spin at all under the sign. Could that be right, or did he have a little trick to get the water going the way he wanted?

In Marsabit Kenya now enjoying our rest day. I'm using a pc terminal in the post office, and don't want to hog it so will be quick. We're camped in a beautiful Kenya Wildlife Services campsite. This morning we were awoken by baboons in the trees above the tents, and then saw 5 elephants moving through the bush less than 50m from our site. Incredible! Kenya is fantastic so far. The riding has been fairly tough as the road has been rocky and sandy, which can make for slow going. I was third in yesterday with an average speed of 16km. Although I said I wasn't racing any more, on the last stage of Ethiopia, my friend Monty and I saw our chance and broke away at the start and hung on for our first and probably only stage win.

We are both back on the road and happy that the illness of Kees does no longer withhold him from cycling. Rita, the time keeper, is cycling today as well and she went with us. Our “lunchstop” was at 40km, and with the roads in such a perfect state we were flying over the road and had more of a second breakfast rather than a lunch. In Bahir Dar, where we are finishing this report, Kees took the decision to have his beard removed to feel more clean and went to the local barbershop, where he got a real good treatment from the barber. Jenny enjoyed it as well as she feels that kissing Kees is not so easy with his beard! Tomorrow we have a rest day, this almost feels like a real holiday.