The first woman around Africa

On Sunday, 24 Nov 2013, she again stood at stone marker in Cape Agulhas indicating the dividing line between the Indian and Atlantic oceans. For her this marker signifies a coming together. Behind her stretched over 40,000 kilometers, the indelible memories of 26 African countries and the culmination of six long years that turned the dream of becoming the first woman to circumnavigate the African continent into a reality.

Jolandie Rust is quiet and reserved. Almost introverted. This 29 year old, who calls Melville, Johannesburg home, has an easy smile and infectious laugh. Her green eyes hide tales of pain and heartache, but they light up at the mention of the open road, of an adventure.

Her first two-wheeler was a pink BMX she got as a Christmas present at the age of 4. For the young Jolandie this would be the key to exploring and achieving the seemingly impossible. Throughout her teens she could be seen criss-crossing the streets of her home town, Kempton Park, on her bicycle.

In 2004, taking time off from working on a kibbutz in Israel, Jolandie and a friend cycled through the Occupied Territories from Nazareth to Arad. Experiencing the harshness of the semi-desert and the sweltering heat, negotiating their way through military posts and dealing with Arabs chasing them on donkeys gave Jolandie a taste of real adventure.

Back in South Africa, she struggled to settle down. The hum-drum of a 9 to 5 routine did just not resonate with the spirit of adventure that had been awakened. The untimely death of someone dear to her in 2007 made her painfully aware of how fragile and precious life is, of how short a life could be. It emphasised the importance to take control of her life and to shape and form her own happiness.

It was then that a dream began to take shape. A dream to become the first woman to circumnavigate Africa on her own.

Africa, the world’s second largest continent, but also one of the poorest, has always fascinated Jolandie. She is passionate about Africa and her people. She felt that by embarking on a journey no other woman has undertaken on her own, she could inspire people across the continent. She could show them that all you needed was a dream, a desire to realise that dream and to take responsibility to fulfil that dream.

‘Get out of the pool of fear and swim in the ocean of possibility.’ ~Jolandie Rust

With little money and a bicycle as the only means of transport, Jolandie set off in 2008 to cycle from Johannesburg to Cape Town to raise awareness and attract sponsorship for her trip around Africa.

Whilst awareness about Jolandie’s crazy dream was increasing, sponsorship wasn’t forthcoming. In 2009 she set off from Johannesburg again. This time she became the first woman to ride around South Africa on a bicycle. On her own.

Money was trickling in, mainly through a few well-wishers and friends, but determined to realise her dream, Jolandie left Camps Bay on 27 April 2011 to cycle around Africa on her own. She made it to Northern Angola where a group of four knife-wielding thugs took her bicycle and all her gear from her.

Dejected, Jolandie was forced to return home. Whilst the governor of the Angolan province where her bicycle was stolen had personally re-embursed her for her loss, the Angolan Minister of Local Government reached out to her and offered to sponsor her to complete her journey by whatever means she chose.

Jolandie jumped at the opportunity and planning started in all earnest to set off again but this time on a motorbike. The BMW 650 GS Dakar was immediately christened Dax, meaning ‘the truth that will conquer the world’. On 1 April 2012 Jolandie left Johannesburg and headed towards Cape Town once more.

She met up with a group of well-wishers and fellow bikers at Cape Agulhas on 7 April and launched her second attempt at becoming the first woman to circumnavigate Africa on her own.

The road up the West Coast was by now familiar territory but, crossing into Angola, misfortune struck. On the first night she spent in Ondjiva, her hosts were the target of an armed robbery. The police were aware that Jolandie was in town but didn’t expect to find her taped to a chair when they dropped by to welcome her. Unharmed but unnerved a plan was formulated that she would have police escort every step of the way whilst in Angola. In spite of some challenging roads, Jolandie had a great time in Angola and was treated like royalty by her sponsors.

Travelling through Congo and Gabon, she met up with a Czech rider on his way to Prague. It was the rainy season and the roads were rivers. And the Czech seemed to have a particular fondness to drop his BMW F 800 GS in muddiest spots.

Meanwhile Jolandie was eagerly anticipating crossing the equator, a significant milestone on her journey. Whilst now on a reasonable tarmac road, there were roadworks to deal with, masses of people from the many little villages alongside the road and hordes of dogs chasing her. And then she spotted the sign, obscured by a truck at one of the many ‘stop ‘n go’ systems, but the photo opportunity was lost.

Crossing into Nigeria was a particular concern. She wasn’t short on warnings about how dangerous this country was, however, much to her surprise, the police at the checkpoints just waved her through and wished her well. But ahead lay Owerri, the most chaotic town she had the unfortunate privilege of having to negotiate her way through and in the pouring rain. Single lanes bursting with vehicles of all descriptions led traffic in and out of town with rubbish dumps in the centre dividing the two lanes. Hundreds of little stalls and thousands of shoppers were happily trading on the curb sides. All this chaos was controlled by a female police officer, baton in hand. Chancers who ignored her instructions were wacked on their vehicles or any protruding body part!

In Côte d’Ivoire she was advised against going through Liberia and Sierra Leone as originally planned. This meant heading north to Bamako in Mali. Northern Mali was in turmoil following a military coup, but this didn’t deter Jolandie from spending almost two weeks in the south. Visas, a perennial frustration, for Mauritania and Morocco needed to be sorted out before she could take Dax to Dakar, the city she was named after, and the western most point on the main land.

Mauritania doesn’t hold many happy memories for Jolandie. The Rosso border between Senegal and Mauritania lived up to its reputation as being one of the worst borders in Africa to cross. Relieved that she eventually made it across, together with hundreds of camels cruelly being beaten onto the ferry by their handlers, she settled into her hotel room. The guy who had helped her with her paperwork at the border offered to bring her something to eat. It was soon clear that he expected payment in return that didn’t involve money but Jolandie’s extensive self-defence training came in handy.

Even though it was by now Ramadan with food during the day not easy to come by, Jolandie safely made it to Rabat in Morocco. However, visa issues would again bring her journey to a halt. With the border between Morocco and Algeria being closed for the past ten years, the only way to continue further east is to take a ferry to Europe and from there to Algeria or Tunisia. She was forced to return to South Africa to apply for a Schengen visa as well as a Tunisian visa.

Back home, Jolandie went scouting for new touring routes with a friend in Mpumalanga. As her beloved Dax had to stay behind in Morocco, she was riding pillion when, at a farm gate, the BMW 1200 GS came down on her ankle. Her right fibula snapped and the ligaments were torn. This necessitated a slow 6 month recovery.

In July 2013 Jolandie was back on the road. After a frustrating few days in Morocco to get Dax released from customs, she did a whirlwind trip through Spain, France and Italy before crossing back into Africa in Tunisia. A proud and hugely relieved Jolandie made it to the northernmost point in Africa, Cap Blanc near Bizerte. Another milestone ticked.

Waiting to hear whether she would be able to cross through Libya despite the political unrest in that country, she took in some of the sights Tunisia had to offer. Top of her list was the Star Wars set near Matmata. Soon she was transported to the planet Tatooine and, disappointed that Luke Skywalker wasn’t home, she returned to Tunis. By now it had been confirmed that she would be able to collect a visa for Libya at the border.

The single decision that speaks volumes about Jolandie’s bravery, her determination and ability to tackle challenges head-on was the decision to take on Libya. For any person this is a daunting prospect but even more so for a woman on her own and on a motorbike. Besides the visa being pricey, a further requirement is to have a guide or escort every step of the way. As she crossed the border at the Ras Jdir post, she was surprised to find a group of more than twenty bikers to welcome her to Libya and to escort her to Tripoli. News of her arrival in Libya had spread and the Ministry of Tourism put her up in a very comfortable hotel for four days. The Libyan motorcycling federation made a generous donation towards her trip and arrangements were made to give Dax a well-deserved service free of charge.

When she reached Misrata her fellow riders informed her that they wouldn’t be able to continue with her and that she would have to ride to Ajdabiya on her own. More than 600 kilometers for a woman alone on a motorbike through Libya? Unheard of but nothing deters Jolandie! She pulled the throttle on Dax back and rode on. She was waved through at the first checkpoint but at the second checkpoint she was met with the by now familiar surprised look on the officer’s face when instructed to remove her helmet and he realised a woman was standing in front of him! She phoned a friend who could explain her situation to the officer in Arabic. The officer told her to proceed, to take care and not to stop for anyone until she reached Ajdabiya. And thankfully nobody did.

Since Gaddafi was toppled in 2011, Libya’s political reconstruction has been marked by brutal violence and instability. Yet, this country revealed its softer side to Jolandie. The kindness she experienced in Sirte, a city heavily damaged in the civil war, was a moving experience: ‘My heart breaks as we ride through the city and I bear witness to the catastrophic consequences of war. The pain and anguish is so tangible it’s like a thick fog that hangs in the air.’ Arriving in Tubruq she was welcomed by a television crew and an interview with her was aired on Libyan TV that evening.

By now violence following the ousting of Morsi had erupted on the streets of Cairo. A curfew had been imposed yet Jolandie was determined to forge ahead. A fellow adventure rider met her at the Egyptian side of the border and what initially looked like an easy border crossing turned into a  nine hour delay on the Egyptian side. In Cairo it was again the time consuming process of visa applications and Dax was in need of a service.

Spending almost three weeks in the capital of the ‘Mother of the World’ meant there was time for some sightseeing. First up was a much anticipated visit to the pyramids and a camel ride, then a weekend excursion to the Bahariya oasis and the amazing white and black deserts.

With the paperwork sorted, the journey south could begin. In the coastal town of Hurghada the Governor presented her with a medal to honour her efforts and in Luxor she could visit the ruins of the sandstone temples. Aswan was the last stop in Egypt before boarding the ferry to Wadi Halfa in Sudan. But before leaving Egypt the Goodwill Ambassador of Cross-cultural Tourism in Egypt presented her with a trophy. Incredible!

Whilst making arrangements to have Dax loaded onto the ferry, Jolandie met a French guy on a BMW R 1200 GS who was heading to South Africa. Together they hit the new main road through Sudan and on to Ethiopia. After the northern Africa desert, the lushness of Ethiopia was a welcome change. Entering Ethiopia Jolandie got the feeling for the first time that she was really on her way home and on her way to realising her dream. Though the roads through Ethiopia were very good, she had never experienced so many people, donkeys, oxen and goats along the side of the road. It was impossible to stop without being swamped by people whose only vocabulary seemed to be: ‘You, you, you, you … money, money, money!’

Ahead lay the notorious Hell Road through the north of Kenya. And Hell Road quickly claimed Dax’s rear shock. Despite continuing with extreme difficulty with a fully laden Dax and severely compromised suspension, Jolandie safely made it to Nairobi, extremely proud not to have dropped Dax at all on Hell Road.

‘Learn to smile through tough times and you can overcome anything!’ ~Jolandie Rust

Whilst waiting for a new shock absorber to be shipped to Nairobi, unrest was brewing in northern Mozambique. This necessitated a change in route. With Dax’s rear suspension replaced, Jolandie headed through Tanzania and on to Malawi. She was exchanging money at the border when a group of guys surrounded her and demanded that she hand over the money she was about to exchange. Being outnumbered she had to part with $100 which is a lot of money when the budget is running extremely low.

After relaxing for a day next to Lake Malawi, home was calling and only one more country to go. In Mozambique Jolandie stopped off next to the ocean again for the first time since leaving Egypt at Inhambane. But on the day before she entered back into South Africa, the sub-frame bolts on Dax simply snapped. The load had been heavy and the road had been long! Fortunately Jolandie had spare bolts and by now a masterful mechanic, she and Dax were back on the road in no time.

Crossing into South Africa on 14 Nov 2013 was an emotional moment. Reaching that dream that had taken so many years to plan, that had so many ups and downs, was within reach. On Sunday, 24 November, a remarkable young woman and her Dax had truly conquered Africa. Next, the world?