A recently published review of a travelogue first published in 1963 was intriguing enough for me to order and read it. An African Abroad was written by adventurer Ọlábísí Àjàlá. Everything about him is interesting, starting with the name: Never before have I encountered anyone with so many diacritical marks on their handle. Then again, I don’t remember having seen Yoruban names written in their full glory before. The name is just the start though, because Àjàlá’s life was also supremely interesting.
Originally from Nigeria, starting in 1957 he traveled the world on a motor scooter for several years. I’ve read travelogues before, but never one like this. The writing is not great, and the editing and formatting of the edition I bought are atrocious, but Àjàlá’s adventures are worth it. His itinerary included India, the Soviet Union, Iran, several Arab countries, Israel and Australia. He encountered some of the most prominent politicians of his time including Nehru, Khrushchev (several times), the Shah, Nasser and Golda Meir. “Encounters” may be the wrong word though, since it quickly becomes apparent that he was willing to take any risk, including being shot at and being beaten up, to go wherever and meet whoever he wanted. What makes An African Abroad unique is Àjàlá’s spirit, at least as many standard deviations more adventurous than the mean than his name has dashes on it.
Nehaveigur 