The great unfinished Third World Journey

The man had a wife and 3 kids – 7, 9 and 11. A Ph.D. from the University of London, and a few publications to his credit. He enjoyed some international notoriety, and had secured a tenure-track position in an American university. Having lived in the west for 20 years, one evening at the dinner table, he spoke to his family about a long-felt desire to leave the US, and return to serve Mother India.

His yankee kids were excited with the idea of visiting exotic country but wife’s pensive silence he took as democratic assent. Encouraged by the unanimous approval to his authoritarian decision to leave the land of opportunities, the professor planned his historic journey. It was a well thought of grand design to take the family from an advanced country through the Third World lands of South America and then cross over to the vast Black continent of Africa. That would take some 3-4 months traveling, and then cross over the ocean and reach the Asian continent at the west coast of India near Bombay ( now Mumbai).

What about the schooling of the kids? “Oh, that’s no problem. Our journey itself would be an excellent open-air schooling for children. They would learn from direct interaction: geographical existence, study of the natural phenomena – rivers, mountains, oceans, and the different cultures, tribes, people, different species of animals and the first hand knowledge of international socio-economic realities.”

“How would we travel all the way through the Americas – to Peru and Chile, and then cross over to the vast African territories?” wife asked meakly.

The confident husband spoke: “Six million years ago the first human gene had started from Africa. Imagine what knowledge our kids would have meeting African tribes that are still not affected by global gene pollution…Travelling no problem. We’d have a motorised camper and all of us would live –in together happily, kids helping in daily chor. They can study in open air 2-4 hours a day. As you go along the vast unspoiled mass of land and meet peoples – you know how innocent the Afro and Latinos are because they are not yet corrupted with capitalist yankee culture. You would meet those wonderful simple folks in their natural habitat- the innocent folks of the great revolutionary Che’s continental Third World. Besides, we shall be the front runners in creating a New Socialist World Culture. Our kids would be the builders of One United World Nation.”

The wife of the revolutionary professor still not sure, suggested that she would prefer to stay behind with the kids in the U.S. while the man went to India and see how things were before all the family shifted to that ancient civilization. “But that would be splitting the family. If we stayed on in the U.S. –soon we shall be divorced, and your kids would turn drug-addicts. But surely we shall not be together. I would like to keep the kids in India till the schooling age, and after eighteen they can decide where they would like to live..” The wife did not want to split the family nor did she has courage to resist the authoritarian husband.

One fateful day the family left America – job, house, everything - household things distributed among students and neighbours. A few suitcases were filled with books and clothes were tied securely on top of the VW Camper. And the professor drove off Michigan State – all the way to the Mexican borders.

At the border – the first experience of Third World awaited the family.
The Custom Officers found a visitor coming from the First World– without proper documentation to import an expensive vehicle “obviously” with a lot of undeclared valuable things. In no uncertain terms the officer demanded a good bribe in the U.S. dollars to clear the custom. As the kids were asleep the head of the family pleaded with the officer:
“ you see, we are originally Third World people (from India), leaving the Capitalist America, and being a professor not connected with any narcotic or smuggling mafia gang.” But the smartly dressed officer was unmoved. He ordered to remove all the suitcases and haul them to a distant godown for inspection. The academic man still argued that nothing of such drastic procedure was necessary, specially since the kids are asleep and the bona-fide of good intention of the visitors can be established from our passports. But all reasoning proved futile with the corrupt Custom Officers.

The professor now took out a notepad and asked the name of the officer and all those who were his assistants: “This behaviour is not acceptable to me. The matter will be reported to higher authorities…”
In that second the haughtiness of the officer turned into politeness, the authority turned into courtesies to the visitors. The Indian family was welcome to Mexico.

In the center of Mexico – while we were out roaming the city – the camper was broken in. But the thieves were considerate as they took only camera and left essential camping things untouched. Some attempt was though made but the suitcases tied on top of the camper remained intact.

We drove off Mexico city to open vastness of ancient country; to historical sites of the great Mayan civilization. Climbed the pyramids, watched the bull fights, and as we were driving towards southern sea shores, on a lonely motor way, the setting sun was glowing on the left horizon. Thinking to camp on the shore I drove off the road, turned direct to the sea. A few yards from the waves, I realized the closeness of wet sands. Quickely turned the wheels away from the sea – back to the high ground on to the motor way. Too late. The wheels were jammed in the deep sand. The more I tried to move the deeper they dug into the gravity of the mother earth. Entire family was off the camper, pushing it together. But all attempts to free the wheels proved futile. And for miles and miles no help was in sight.

Those days mobile communication or IT had not been invented, and in the Third World no rescue provision was available. There were no road signs – if road existed. Petrol pumps could be found but only on a few selected places. But if you arrived in a place with a petrol pump, there was no guarantee that you could get clean gas, or rightly measured even if not adulterated. Expecting no help from any quarters, I decided to stay put for the night at that scenic but scaring lonely place.

In order to lighten the camper we took off the suitcases and dragged them to a distance, on higher ground. Kids collected twigs, leaves, sticks and branches, and placed them under the wheels as we made a last attempt of moving the wheels out of the deep sands. The lady at the driving wheel, and the professor with his three kids with full youth force pushing the camper 1,2,3 all together. But all attempts came to naught.

It was now 9 PM. We prepared small meals and retired for the well-deserving night sleep. Around 2 AM, I smelled wood burning with crackling sound rising from underneath of the wheels.

Jumped “everyone out” we are on fire. Quickly collected sea waters and extinguished the fires. With friction of the wheels and the see breeze fanning, the leaves and the dry twigs had ignited. But the tyres had not yet caught fires.

But when you face difficulties they don’t come single.
At dawn as we enjoyed swim in the sea we noticed that the water was rising as the tide was coming in. How soon it would reach us, we could not guess. But Emergency was clear.

Around 8’o’clock, a few office going cars appeared on the motor way. I rushed and hailed a motorist. He spoke no English, and me no Spanish or Mexican, but with gestures – he said, “no worry, I know your problem.” The man looked at my predicament, parked his car at a distance, went to nearby woods, found a small wooden plank and returned presently. He placed the small plank under one front wheel and ordered me to drive very slowly just a few inches to shift the wheel on and off the plank. One by one, he shifted each wheel, and in less than 10 minutes, the camper was free on the hard sand, some distance away from the rising tidal waves.

The vast continent of South America is rich with natural resources and yet remains underdeveloped, just beneath the most advanced state in the world: the United States of America.

The ancient Mayan civilization had built the first urban city ………..at the height of 12,000 feet in the Americas when Europeans were emerging out of the dark ages, and long before the Crusading Christian soldiers invaded the American continent.

And the natural habitat of African continent – that gave the world the first human gene 6 millions years ago – also offers rich data for scientists of the 21 century for study and research.

But coming from technological living in the U.S. –we were used to a motorized culture where every thing was techno-systematic. You were told in words and on the maps where to go and find what facility at which place, and at what distance. But in this Third World country – bereft of all facilities – we found no supportive infrastructure. I was a long standing member of the Triple A- American Automobile Association that provided all technical support in case of emergency. But no such 3As operated in this region of Third World. We could pay but in the remote region of South America the US dollars proved ineffective.

But I found a common bond with an engineer – a total stranger who extended all possible help against the nature’s fury. And for his services I paid no charges. Total strangers were united in oneness of Third World brotherhood.

Nevertheless, the great Third World journey and the open-air schooling of the Sharma kids through the South America and the African continent were abandoned at the first camping expedition in Mexico.