Motorcycle Explorer October 2014 Issue 2 | Page 36

Sam Manicom
conscious. They thrust me into a cell, and it
was like being shoved onto the set of
movie. I couldn’t believe it was happening
to me.
The concrete cell reeked of urine and a
bucket in the corner stunk of faeces. The
room was lit only by a small barred window
that was set high into the wall. A single
dust filled shaft of light cut into the dank
darkness. As my eyes got used to the gloom
I realised that there was a group of men
already there; all of their eyes were on me.
The hair on the back of my neck moved
under the collar of my leather jacket and
trying to look taller than my six one, I leant
against the wall and stared back. I was
scared again, but had the feeling that if I
didn’t look tough there’d be trouble.
Almost everywhere on the trip so far there
had been a sort of guarded respect towards
me. I’d never been sure if it was the colour
of my skin, my comparative wealth or what
I was doing that engendered this respect,
but there wasn’t a trace of it now. Time
passed in slow motion and my mouth went
dry. It was at this moment that I discovered
so much more about who I am. When I’d set
off I knew something like this could
happen to me; I’d heard the stories of other
unfortunate overlanders, but I’d tried not
to think about the possibility. If I had,
perhaps I’d never have left home.
On another occasion I was
arrested in Africa after a
traffic accident. All the
blame was heading firmly
in my direction. Still able
to ride my bike I followed
the police to the police
station where my bike,
keys, carnet, licence,
passport and money were
all confiscated. I
wondered if I’d ever see
any of them again. The
booking-in room was a
mass of yelling, arguing
people and to top it all
after just moments of
being in the chaos, a
badly beaten up man was
thrown to the floor inside
the room. His ears and
nose had blood pouring
from them and he looked
no more than semi-
So knowing that this sort of thing can
happen, does this make an Overlander
some sort of freak and a nutter? I don’t
know about that, but I do know that a long
journey will often make a person into a
believer in fate. There are times out there
where you know that it doesn’t matter how
hard you are trying to keep an eye on what
the other roads users are up to, what the
goats and the dogs are up to, what the kids
doing and where the next pothole is. You
just can’t get it right all of the time.
Remember Space Invaders? You’ll find
yourself playing the game live out there.
The challenge can stretch you farther than
you thought possible.