A Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, Land Rover Ambassador, and according to the National Geographic Society, “the most traveled living African explorer,” at 78 years of age, Kingsley Holgate is also a humanitarian. His many expeditions showcase the fact that the most important element of an adventure is the people you meet. In this article Holgate takes GTJ readers with him on his current Afrika Odyssey Expedition to answer one question: What is the most important thing you take on an adventure?
The AOE celebrates Africa’s diverse landscapes, indigenous cultures and often turbulent history in commemoration of Land Rover’s 75th Jubilee, and African Park’s 23rd anniversary at the end of 2024. The main goal of the expedition was to highlight the outstanding conservation and community work being achieved by African Parks and their nation partners, and the commitment required to reach the goal of 30 protected areas under African Parks management by 2030. And it was made possible by the 2023 Land Rover Defender.
This journey of purpose will stitch together AP’s conservation successes with its remarkable community development efforts for 22 national parks in 12 African countries. The expedition’s aim was to showcase the inspirational potential of Africa’s wild places and people. In partnership with AP and Africa Geographic it will collect stories of hope from each park, as told by rangers, community beneficiaries and others. These will become an enduring archive of positive, grassroots narratives in support of conservation across Africa.
Holgate’s response to the question will take you on an anecdotal journey through African countries and past adventures. It highlights the beauty of the continent’s people, without skirting its challenges. This, after all, is Africa, or as they summarize in Africa when things do go wrong, “TIA.”
Kingsley Holgate behind the wheel of an earlier model Defender 110 on a former expedition. Courtesy © Kingsley Holgate Foundation
By Kingsley Holgate
An expected answer to the question, “What is the most important thing to take on an overland expedition,” is usually a well-stocked medical kit, extra fuel in Jerry cans, or the basics, which are all South African delicacies — Nando’s sauce, Mrs. Balls Chutney, or Marmite. Extra spare wheels, a big camp kettle and a bottle or two of your favorite plonk, might round out the list. But most are a wee bit surprised with my reply.
As we approached the busy, chaotic Kousseri border between Chad and Cameroon, for example, I saw my son Ross carefully sizing up a confident young fellow by the name of Barka Abani. In a jiffy Abani had us sorted out with Sim cards and, of his own accord, shot off on a motorbike to collect a little disabled customs official, who, with a big smile, stamped our vehicle carnets into Cameroon with record alacrity.
The black-bearded and energetic Abani was dressed in traditional jellabiya and skull cap, and spoke French, enough English, a few local languages, and Arabic. He told me that he gets by as a transit driver and small-time trader between the neighboring countries of Central African Republic, Chad and Nigeria.
“Me, I cross all the time,” he said with a broad grin. “But this part in the north into Nigeria, not good… too much Boko Haram.” He said this while imitating someone pointing a firearm and pulling the trigger. “But I know a good way; it’s a fuel-smuggling route out of Nigeria. I negotiate with the Gendarmerie and military roadblocks for you… no problem.”
I nod in agreement and soon Barka Abani with his small overnight bag is ensconced in the passenger seat of the lead Land Rover Defender.
Yes, the most important thing to take on any expedition is an empty seat for a fixer.
Brandishing our paperwork, Abani was not only a wizard at the roadblocks, but he took us to a roadside lunch joint where chunks of tender goatmeat wrapped in brown paper and slow cooked over the coals, were served with flat bread and warm Beaufort beer.
Barka Abani in front of the latest model Land Rover Defender. Courtesy © Kingsley Holgate Foundation
Ruts & Washaways
Later that afternoon, as we battled through deep ruts and washaways, pulling off the road to avoid overloaded, swaying pick-up trucks piled high with smuggled fuel drums — going flat out I might add — Ross’s voice crackles over the radio. “It seems we’re in no-mans-land and the Nigerian border is just ahead.”
The first indication we had that we were entering Nigeria was a random piece of string stretched across the track with some very friendly immigration dudes smiling at us. One of them said in the most perfect ‘Queen’s English,’ “Welcome to Nigeria. Some light precipitation yesterday but at least it’s settled the dust for the road ahead.” He might have learned the language by listening to the daily BBC weather forecast.
What a treat! We had been ‘Francophone’d out’ for months on end! I didn’t know who was more surprised — us or them. It wasn’t long and they were posing for photographs in front of our expedition vehicles.
The official added, “You’ll need to clear customs and immigration at the next village.”
I ask about security. “No problem here but further down the road, there are lots of military and police. It’s all because of these Boko Haram people,” he replied.
We pulled into a nearby village — it was a Sunday afternoon and so we were immediately mobbed by throngs of onlookers, some of them serious looking herdsmen carrying bows and arrows. Kids’ push their faces up against the windows, adults read out the names of the country flags we have on the sides of our Land Rovers, whilst even more gather around the expedition map on the bonnet — or hood for our North American readers. One immediately got the sense that few, if any white travelers come this way. Unabashed curiosity reigned.
Disappearing Fixer
Barka Abani went off with our papers and passports, and was soon lost to sight. The children were all intrigued by the talismans on one Land Rover’s dashboard: We had a little bronze rhino from the Democratic Republic of Congo, a ‘blue eye’ of protection from somewhere east of where we were, a few cowrie shell ornaments, and a very real-looking rubber snake, that, when someone wiggled its tail, came alive and had the youngsters scattering in every direction.
There is no sign of Abani.
When the crowds became a little over excited, we slowly moved further out of town. So, the crowd followed. Then, in pidgin English, a strong-looking fellow shouted at us as he punched a fist into the air, “Double greetings to you all!”
There was still no sign of Abani.
For a moment a negative thought crept into my mind. What if Abani, with vehicle papers and all the team’s passports, simply disappears? That would be a disaster. With 11 months and around 60,000 km of travel behind us, and still three more of the 22 African Parks managed wildlife reserves left to visit, we had to make it across Nigeria to reach Benin for the final chapter.
Awhile later, striding confidently through the crowd, Abani reappeared with our papers and passports in hand. Because it was Sunday, the government offices were closed and he had to rouse the immigration officer from his siesta.
Kingsley Holgate, Ross Holgate and Graeme Madsen receive a wood carving as a token of appreciation from an African Parks representative. Courtesy © Kingsley Holgate Foundation
Forgotten Sirloin
That night we camped wild in an old disused quarry. Nobody could believe it, but at the bottom of our camp fridge, frozen hard as a rock, Ross found a forgotten, decent-sized piece of sirloin that we’d bought months ago in Namibia. Somehow it had been missed by the countless border inspections since then.
Once defrosted, he waved it under his nose for the obligatory ‘smell test’ before dropping it onto some sizzling coals. Cut into slivers it was served on our ‘Ugqoko,’ which is a traditional wooden Zulu meat platter that travels everywhere with us. With pap (African porridge), what was left of the Nando’s hot sauce, and some tin mugs of each person’s preferred beverage the meal became something of a celebration.
Jellabiya Robes
Barka Abani had just fenagled the Afrika Odyssey Expedition into Nigeria — what a legend! He lit a second fire, “for security,” he said with a grin before praying towards Mecca and climbing into one of our pop-up tents for the night.
Graham Madsen, our expedition vet and conservation educator and I decided to sleep beneath the stars. We slung out our bedrolls, lay down and fell asleep to the sound of fans in Ross’s rooftop tent whirring away in an effort to defeat the murderous heat.
The next day we discovered the reality of Nigeria’s massive population — 218 million souls crammed into an area 11 times smaller than the USA. In a busy town, whilst waiting for my son and Abani to change our remaining Central African Francs into bundles of Nigerian Nira, a big angry bloke with a large scar across his face noticed that our vehicles were registered in South Africa. Marching up to the window he began yelling at us, “Why are you killing our people over there? You are killing our brothers!” Soon a crowd gathered. “These South Africans, they are killing our brothers,” he repeated.
Quite confused, it took us some time to realize that he was talking about the xenophobic attacks in South Africa against his fellow Nigerians. I tried to reason with him, apologized, and explained that we understand that this sort of criminal behavior is wrong and that not all South Africans feel that way.
“We know we’re hustlers!” he shouted in response, “but there’s nothing here so we must go where the money and work is, and then you kill us!”
“It’s time to get out of here,” whispered Graeme to me. We did the little smile-and-wave dance which quietly relocated us to another area of the market. There we found Abani and Ross with a uniformed policeman who demanded that we all joined him in the charge office “to report.”
But first, much to the policeman’s annoyance, Abani then insisted on taking me off to a nearby clothing store where he presented me with a traditional light blue jellabiya robe together with gifts for Ross and Graham. Only then were we marched off to the grimy charge office where the station commander ruffled through our passports and papers by the light of his cellphone torch. Soon, with backslaps, smiles, and a hearty “Welcome to Nigeria,” we were out of there.
Farewell
We said sad goodbyes to Barka Abani. He had to make his way back to Cameroon, leaving us to tackle the long overland challenge to Benin. We tallied up that we had crossed well over 100 roadblocks, several of them less than a kilometer apart, some with just the standard piece of string across the road, others more serious with well-armed soldiers, sandbagged gun emplacements, armored vehicles, and huge boulders or logs across the road to force traffic to zigzag around them.
One of these was particularly tense. A large, heavily armed guard asked us in pidgin English, with that delightful, energized Nigerian tone, “Don’t ya know dat dis is one of de most dangerouse f—-n roads in Nigeria?”
Eventually, with a huge smile and handshakes all around, he had wished us a good journey.
Along the way, many of the filling stations were closed. Those that were open had hundreds of cars, motorbikes and tuk-tuks lined up in queues. There was a nationwide fuel shortage, and the mood was tense with talk of imminent mass action. Fortunately, most of the queued vehicles needed petrol (gasoline) so with Abani’s help we had hustled for diesel.
At the final roadblock, some days later, a policeman dropped the rope across the road with a shout of “White Man, how are you? God Bless Nigeria!” One can only admire the Nigerians for their good humor and zest for life.
We crossed into Benin at the Seme border on the Atlantic coast and were escorted to the African Parks headquarters in Cotonou. The crazy dash across Nigeria had been made more than worthwhile by our fixer-for-hire, Barka Abani.
Courtesy © Kingsley Holgate Foundation
Born under African skies into a missionary family, Holgate’s adventures started at a young age. He spent countless hours on his father’s lap, being enthralled by stories of the great Victorian explorers. This led to many missionary journeys with his parents into the wilds of Africa — as far as the old Belgium Congo — that were to plant the seeds for his own epic journeys of discovery.
It’s taken much of a lifetime, but no other group of adventurers have completed journeys of exploration, including many world-firsts, that include: an expedition to track the entire outline of the African continent through 33 countries in 449 days; a south-to-north journey from the Cape of Good Hope to Alexandria and the mouth of the Nile along Africa’s waterways; an east-to-west crossing following the Zambezi and Congo Rivers in the footsteps of early explorers Livingstone and Stanley — during the civil war years in Angola and the Democratic Republic of Congo; tracking the Tropic of Capricorn around the world by Land Rover; a year sailing a traditional lateen-rigged Arab dhow up the east coast of Africa to Somalia and back; two transcontinental expeditions — Cape Town to Kathmandu, and the first ‘Hot Cape – Cold Cape’ journey for the new Land Rover Defender from Africa’s southern-most point, Cape Agulhas, to Nordkapp in Norway’s Arctic Circle; and in a series of humanitarian and geographic expeditions, embracing all 54 countries on the African continent including all the island states.
The Kingsley Holgate expedition team have also achieved two significant, geographic world-firsts: the discovery of the geographic center-point of Africa, deep in the rainforests of the Republic of Congo, and reaching all seven extreme geographic poles of the African continent. Both were verified by the International Geographic Union.
African Parks is a non-profit conservation organization that assumes responsibility for the long-term management of protected areas after signing agreements to enter partnerships with African governments and local communities. It manages 22 protected areas in 12 countries that cover more than 20 million hectares.
AP was founded in 2000 in response to the dramatic decline of protected areas due to poor management and lack of funding. It uses a clear business approach to conserving Africa’s wildlife and remaining wild areas, securing vast landscapes and carrying out the necessary activities needed to protect the parks and their wildlife. African Parks maintains a strong focus on economic development and poverty alleviation of surrounding communities to ensure that each park is ecologically, socially, and financially sustainable in the long-term.
Benin’s parks were off limits to visitors at the time of writing because of the spillover of jihadist attacks from neighboring Burkina Faso. Sadly, in 2022 a group of African Parks’ personnel were killed in an IED attack and more recently some villagers were brutally beheaded. Holgate’s Afrika Odyssey Expedition was given special permission to visit the W-Arly-Pendjari (WAP) Complex, a globally significant 26,361 km² transboundary protected area, that represents West Africa’s largest intact wild ecosystem. Pendjari and W (named after the shape of the Niger River) national parks are connected to a network of protected areas that straddle Benin, Burkina Faso and Niger.
