Traversa: A Solo Walk Across Africa, from the Skeleton Coast to the Indian Ocean

My current "book subject of choice" is travel memoirs. And, as of yesterday, when I read the last page of Traversa, one of my favorite travel memoirs is Traversa. Sandham is a thoroughly enjoyable author. He blends just the right amount of humor, wit, and factual history. I like my books to be enjoyable but at the same time I like to learn something too. I can always tell a good memoir, if, at the end of the book, I feel I personally know the author. It also helps if I feel I personally like the author as well.

Incredible story of trekking from Namibia's Atlantic Coast to the Indian Ocean (ending up at Zanzibar). Although the author's attacked by neither man nor beast (just insects aplenty), he has his share of troubles, starting with recalitrant wild donkeys, and finishing up with a week of malaria treatment (apologies if that proves a spoiler). Terrific writing skills and a great sense of humor make this book one of my top books for the year. Highly recommended.

It's hard to read many travel books without a sense of 'Why? Why are you putting yourself through all this?' and Traversa is no exception. Those who sit at home may not understand what drives some people to these lengths, but that doesn't stop us lapping it up and asking for more. In this enthralling book, Sandham brings his solo walk from the aptly-named Skeleton Coast to the Indian Ocean to life. He comes across, variously, as courageous, determined, bloody-minded, and completely insane. By the end of the book, it's easy to feel, as he does, that he has earned his right to be in Africa, even among people so poor that a man who has scrimped, saved and given up chocolate biscuits to be there, is immeasurably rich. Throughout, Sandham places his experiences in a historical context, evoking the horror of being preserved from shipwreck only to die of thirst, the shame and waste of the slave trade, and butchery in wars over territory that match anything Europe has achieved in that line. As his traversa progresses, he moves from a theoretical understanding of Africa to a genuine affection for the place and its people. The book is filled with dry self-deprecation and humour--there's a disastrous donkey, and we can only imagine Sandham's problems with his mule, as he declines to go into details--and some of the characters he meets are portrayed as so much larger than life that there's a temptation to believe they're imaginary. Perhaps the best example of the man's courage is when, having invested time, effort and money in a donkey (diseased), a donkey-cart (beautifully painted), and a mule (disobedient), he's able to walk away from all three. Many people would have persisted even in the face of so much discouragement, but Sandham knows when to cut his losses. He probably wouldn't have made it across Africa without that knowledge. Apart from the not-so-tame domestic animals, there's lions. Real, live, traveller-eating lions. Fortunately, the threat they pose is more perceived than actual; some people have been eaten, but Sandham gets through. There's also explosive diarrhea, a very unpleasant, if probably inevitable, attack of malaria, and, of course, blisters. Yet day after day, he gets up, and gets going. Even after side trips to investigate mules or donkeys, he insists on being driven back to the point where he stopped walking, so he can start again. He knows when he's idled somewhere too long, and somehow gets himself going. There's no cheating on this journey, even though the temptations must have been enormous. This book entertained and saddened me by turns, and I heartily recommend it--reading what Sandham has to say is the only way even partially to answer the question, 'Why?'. [Reviewed by Debbie Moorhouse]

There are many things to admire about Mr. Sandham's book: the fact that he underwent great hardship at times in order to write it; the way in which he has unveiled some little-known parts of Africa to a wider audience; or his eloquent turn of phrase and sometimes biting self-deprecating humour. But what stands out for me is in the way which he stuck to his task and wasn't seduced by the touristic, bombastic way to travel through a country. I don't mean that he didn't occasionally stay in a hostel,(after hundreds of kilometres across lion country you might too), or that he didn't occasionally eat Western-style foods in souless supermarkets. What I mean is that he stuck to the task at hand and didn't go to see something or attempt to do something just because a guidebook said he should. It is extremely hard sometimes to resist the pull of the mass-market. I myself have been to countries where I thought I had been to every 'must-see' site in an area and then found that to my disappointment there was one I had missed. But those were not the real experiences and stories which will stay with me. Real meaning can be found in the tapestry of human interactions and the beat of a way of life different to your own. In an era of travel being accessible to so many more people, how refreshing to hear an account of someone who decided to tread a more personal path. Mr. Sandham did things 'his way' and I am sure his mentors Messrs. Livingstone, Stanley et al, would be proud.