Goodbye Friend....
A little over a year ago I reached the Indian coast in Mozambique at a difficult time in my life. There, in that incredible lonely paradise, surrounded by boundless beauty, I stopped to contemplate and try to absorb every bit of it. There was absolutely no one around in that eternal stretch of white "flour" and crystal-clear turquoise waters until a silhouette appeared behind the palm trees. As it walked slowly towards me on the sand, a big smile shone under the sun. A couple of minutes later, the reddened skin, the messy blond hairs, and a can of beer in hand at 10 AM under the full tropical sun would form the first image that I had of Albé.
Getting to know Albé
With what could well be comparable to the curiosity of a child, trying to find meaning between fascination and incomprehension, he laughs and goes:
- HA! what are you doing here in the sun with that bike? where do you come from?
I find his kindness infectious me and smiling I reply:
- From China
- From China???? hahaaaa! and what's your name?
- Nico, what about you?
- Albé
- Albé? I answer confused, trying to recognize what name that would be, and Albé went on jokingly:
- Of course! Albé, as in: "I'LL BE, here" "I'LL BE, there - and we burst out laughing.
- And are you staying here? Where will you stay? - he inquired
- I don't know - I answered - I think the price they ask me for camping at the hotel on the beach seems excessive, so I think I'll camp right here on the beach.
- Oh no, no. Wait, come with me, I've been here for a long time, let's see if we can get a good price for you.
On the way to the reception of Fatima's Guesthouse Albé briefly tells me that he is a native of Cape Town and that he has left everything to travel by motorcycle, but since he arrived at this place 2 months ago, he found it so beautiful that he just could not go.
At the hotel reception, we are not successful and I tell Albé not to worry, I will be camping on the beach, but he stops me again and tells me:
- No, let's see, wait, Nico, pay what you can pay, and I'll pay for the rest. I want you to stay here, and it doesn't cost me anything, seriously. I want to do it and besides, you are skin and bones, you need to rest and eat, and the food is very good here.
As I would soon discover, there would be no way to refuse an invitation from Albé, and that's how I ended up staying. He himself, as if he already ran the hotel, pointed out the spot in which I could camp, right next to his tent, and with a million dollar view.
After camping, and relaxing for a while, I passed by his tent holding a packet of spaghetti and a few tomatoes. Surprised, always with his cold beer in hand, he exclaimed:
-"What are you doing with that?"
I laugh and tell him that I'm going to the kitchen to make some dinner. Albé laughs back at me, and says:
- Put that aside Nico, come on! let's go to the restaurant to eat, it’s my treat. Do you like chicken curry? It’s delicious today. You also have fish and chips. Choose what you want from the menu and don't worry. You will have time to cook again when you camp. Now you have to eat well.
The days passed and Albé and I created a very strong bond. He was the very first who saw and felt in person, the sadness that I brought with me after Julia left me just a month ago. But I also knew his deep sadness, compared to which, I felt that mine was reduced to a mere soap opera drama.
Albé had left behind a life of work addiction, a life that had cost him his family, his wife, and two sons that he adored to tears but still did not dare to see. So he bought a motorcycle and decided to travel without goals and without plans while trying to find how to heal (or perhaps try to forget) the enormous pain that he brought with him.
We spent our days talking, mostly laughing, putting personal hardship aside just so we could enjoy the good things in life. However, when it came to get serious, we’d dig very deep, and I particularly with him, because I felt that he needed it more than I did. One of those moments came on one afternoon in which I felt it was right to tell him my perspective on his own life. It was a very moving conversation for both of us and also very honest. It’s one of those that you have when you fully trust who you are with, those conversations that touch deeply and on which strong bonds are built.
"It's not about you"
It was late. It was my last night, the palm trees swayed with the breeze, the breaking waves adding music to the silence. Upon returning to my tent to sort my things, I found Albé sitting by the front of his, solemn, thoughtful. It had been a day since that last deep conversation and I only hoped I hadn't hurt him with what I said.
When he saw me arrive, he calls me earnestly:
- Nicolas! come here a moment -
As I approach, I smile at him, and pointing straight to his side, I say - I see you've got your evil little bottle there - referring to his little bottle of Sprite, which I knew he filled with Whiskey every night.
Staring blankly, he wields a smile and I realize he was a little drunk. At that moment, he asks me to sit down and tells me, trying to string the words together:
- Nicolas ..... this .... this, it's not about you -
- mmmmm what thing Ablé? What is not about me?
- This, this, Nicolas, it's not about you ..... -
-what .....- he interrupts me before I continue my sentence
- This that you do, this life, all this that you do, is not about you-
I keep thinking, giving him time to continue. He is moved. He continues, slowly and sparingly:
- This that you do, is not about you .... this, all this that you do, this trip that you are doing, this life ... this is not about you ........ this is, It is about all the people who cross your path, about all of us, about all the people who cross your path and whose hearts are deeply touched by your presence ... you have to know that, that it is not about you -..... THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU! - He repeats firmly, slowly, drunk, excited, and my eyes start watering, at which point I hug him to burst into tears together
There I understood that I had touched his heart, and he also knew how to touch mine.
Farewell to Albé
I left Mozambique with a soul friend. We never resolved our bond, because at 53 and me at 36, he was too young to be like my uncle, too old to be like my brother, and too close to be like a cousin. Anyway, he liked to refer to me, openly in public, as "my son". Albé ended up paying for my entire stay, he didn't let me cook even once, and he said farewell by giving me 200 rand (~ 20 usd) in hand so that I could accomplish something he wanted: to go anywhere I could where I could eat a plate of sushi for him. The months passed, we stayed in touch and we even met again in April, 4 months later, when on vacation in South Africa with my dad, I learned that he was in Barrydale. There we went to see him, and once again, we gave each other the hug we deserved. With shame, I admitted that I had not yet eaten the sushi, but that I still had the 200 Rand reserved for it.
After I resumed the journey north across West Africa, I insisted over and over again to speed up his march so that we could meet again in Namibia. His erratic schedule did not allow it, and when I was leaving Windhoek, he sent me a beautiful photo of his talking with an ostrich in the middle of the Karoo, there in that immense landscape, next to his motorcycle. I saw him happy. I replied jokingly that he had not actually come to Namibia for two possible reasons. One, because he got too old or because I was so strong again that he could not even catch up with me on his BMW.
