Chapter 1 — At Twenty
I was twenty years old.
I had just earned my first real money as a young creative in a German advertising agency.
Most people would have bought a car.
Or a better apartment.
I bought a ticket to Africa.
Not because I had a plan.
Because I had curiosity.
Chapter 2 — Leaving the Familiar World
I spoke no French.
Not a single sentence.
No travel guides.
No internet.
No mobile phone.
Just a small bag, a Polaroid camera and the address of a few development workers I had met in Germany. They lived in Korhogo, in the north of Côte d’Ivoire.
That was enough.
Chapter 3 — Into Africa
When I landed in Abidjan, Africa overwhelmed me immediately.
My first night was spent in the elegant InterContinental Hotel—a place so luxurious it even had its own ice rink.
Only a few days later I was sitting on the dusty ground of a crowded bush-taxi station, waiting for a shared taxi that would take me north.
That contrast became my way of travelling for the rest of my life.
Sometimes luxury.
Sometimes almost nothing.
Never the middle.
Chapter 4 — When Plans Disappear
One of my first lessons came quickly.
Walking through a market in Abidjan, wearing my Omega watch, I was robbed.
It hurt.
But it was also my first travel lesson.
The world wasn’t dangerous.
It simply demanded awareness.
Chapter 5 — Learning to Trust Myself
At the bush-taxi station I always tried to squeeze into the back with everyone else.
But the drivers insisted that I sit in the front.
I hadn’t earned that privilege.
It was simply the reality of Africa in the early 1970s.
I never forgot that feeling.
Chapter 6 — The Birth of a Traveller
Then something unexpected happened.
I met an African woman who was several years older than me.
In many ways she became my guide.
She opened doors that I would never have found alone.
She introduced me to villages, families, traditions and everyday life far beyond the routes any tourist could have discovered.
She didn’t just show me Africa.
She taught me how to travel.
Chapter 7 — What Africa Taught Me / Final Reflection
My secret weapon was simple.
A Polaroid camera.
Whenever I met someone, I photographed them and immediately handed them their picture.
Today that sounds ordinary.
Back then it was almost magic.
People laughed.
Children gathered around.
Strangers became friends within minutes.
The camera became my passport into people’s lives.
