Africa's Worst Hunters
There I was in Prague, just settling down for an evening of happily scrolling reels for hours on end when my Caminante friend Timmy called me.
‘Mate, I really want to go to Africa,’ he said. ‘I want to go and meet a tribe and have a real adventure. I miss feeling alive like in the Darien.’ My heart sank. I knew what he’d say next...
‘Let’s do it together mate!’
Yes he said the words I feared most.
PRAGUE. IT AIN'T AFRICA
‘Fuck,’ I thought to myself. I really didn’t want to go to Africa. One because I knew I wouldn’t like it. I'm not into tribes at all. Or animals. And secondly I was planning on going to Ukraine in just a few days time. I was going to eat borsch, meet friendly Ukrainian babushkas, go to the front and hear some war stories. Maybe even get chased by a drone. And it was all just a comfortable train ride from the sofa I was lying on. Africa was fucking lightyears away in both distance and mentality.
KYIV. NICER THAN BIRMINGHAM. EVEN IN WARTIME
However Timmy said he had found a tribe in Tanzania called the Hadza that YouTubers had been visiting and most importantly, were getting mega views by filming them.
‘One guy got 60 million views on a video with them!’ He said. Ok, now I was intrigued. The borsch and drones would have to wait.
WHO THE FUCK IS THIS GUY? ( CONNOR MCGREGOR )
‘Alright,’ I said, ‘But let’s go immediately then.’ I wanted what I knew would be a ball ache of a trip to be over and done with. Before I had even hung up I had booked my flight to Tanzania. There was no point putting off the inevitable hell that African trips can be. I mean the odds were not good that it would be anything but hell. I had been to five countries on the continent and hated them all except one ( lovely Uganda ). And I just I knew I'd fucking hate Tanzania and whatever tribe it was we were visiting and that I wouldn't get many views. But I looked forward to seeing Timmy who I had not met in a year. So I was in. Reluctantly.
TIMMY KARTER AKA 'MR. DECATHLON'
Three days later I flew to Cairo airport for a connecting flight down the eastern coast of Africa to Dar es Salaam a huge slum like city on the Indian Ocean. Timmy was waiting in the transit hall. He was fully dressed up in African safari gear head to toe. He must have bought half of Decathlon and looked like he was going to look for blood diamonds instead of making a video with a tribe. I on the other hand was totally unprepared, wearing a white button down-collar shirt from the discount rack in Zara and some fancy trainers. In fact I was so unprepared that I had not even thought of bringing sun cream. Once again I'd not taken a trip seriously.
WHITE BUTTON DOWN SHIRT AND A DAFT HAT
We arrived at the airport at 6am in Tanzania and headed straight to the railway station. Backpacker Ben had told us that there was an old steam train that headed in the direction of the tribes in the north of the country. Myself and Timmy thought it would be good content with goats and colourful locals riding on board. Maybe we would even see a lynching or something. But when we got to the station they told us the old train only went on Sundays. It was now Wednesday. Instead we’d have to ride a brand new electric Chinese-built train heading north. Zero fucking goats!
We bought tickets knowing neither of us could film anything on the journey. The trip was progressing just as I expected. An absolute shit show.
FLIPPIN CHINESE. ALWAYS IMPROVING AFRICA
We eventually arrived in Arusha, a northern town that was a few hours away from the Hadza tribe we were going to meet. We called our travel-agent contact and told him we were in town and ready and he immediately came to our hotel to collect the $650 fee we each paid for what was going to be the experience of walking around and hunting with stone-age hunter gatherers. It was cheaper to cross the Darien Gap than a night with these people.
NIGHTLIFE IN ARUSHA. LOUD AND SHIT
The following morning a driver, chef and guide picked us up from the hotel to take us into the bush in a Toyota land-cruiser. I didn’t want to film the trio because I wanted to make a funny story that looked like myself and Timmy had discovered the tribe on our own like the victorian explorers of the past, but it was such a pain in the ass to film that way and not get the guide in the shots that I soon regretted doing it but I couldn't change the narrative half way. In hindsight it would have been funnier showing the pampered tour we had both booked ourselves on.
BASED AFRICANS KNOW A GOOD LEADER
When we arrived at the camp of the Hadza people I was pissed off and not at all motivated to film. It was a fucking joke. The tribe were sat around getting wasted on weed and alcohol. Their tiny village even had a little trinket stand selling bangles and necklaces for tourists. Disney-stone age chic. On top of that half the tribe were wearing jeans and trainers. How was this authentic? I asked our guide to translate some things the Hadza were drunkenly blabbering but he just sat there scrolling on his phone, looking annoyed whenever I asked him a question about the tribe. $650 for this shit.
A HADZA TRIBESMAN SKINNING UP. AGAIN
That night myself and Timmy sat at a camping table eating a nice meal cooked by our chef. Members of the Hadza tribe sat on the ground near us like a pack of dogs waiting for some offerings. I gave them a tray of popcorn and they dived in eagerly. There was no way these people were only living off the land like their ancestors.
We slept in comfy tents with mattresses whilst the Hadza were in their little huts on the hard ground. Poor buggers. 50,000 years old and they still hadn't saved up for a mattress. The sound of the Savannah at night was pierced only by the nasal sounds of our driver snoring continuously in the next tent.
ANOTHER DAY. ANOTHER LYNCHING
In the morning at 5am myself and Timmy woke to a nice breakfast of pancakes and honey whilst the hunters prepared their arrows by the fire. I say prepared, they really just looked at their arrows. They probably had bought them in Decathlon too. I was completely unprepared sartorially for what we were about to do but at 6am we set off for the baboon hunt and it soon became clear that the tribe were not morning people.
MEMBER OF THE HADZA TRIBE LOOKING FOR HIS ARROW
Every arrow fired at a bird missed its target by some considerable way. After a while it started to become funny. Even the tribesman began laughing nervously out of embarrassment. They no doubt knew we had travelled from a far off land to see them hunt some monkeys.
Despite their ineptitude, it was rather interesting to witness it and to realise that this was how all our ancestors lived once upon a time. Long before lazily scrolling and ordering pizza from Uber Eats changed the way we acquire food. But after I had contemplated all that it just became boring. Myself and Timmy had crossed the Darien and avoided the Cartel. What the hell were we doing here?! We both knew it was shit.
BACK WHEN WE WERE REAL CAMINANTES
‘How long will this last?’ We asked our guide who walked along side us scrolling on his phone and not in any way showing any interest in to translating with the Hadza hunters. ‘About 7 hours,’ came the reply. For fuck sake.
Eventually as mid-morning passed the Hadza woke up and caught some little birds no bigger than baby pigeons ( or maybe they were hiding them in their pockets because I never actually saw a bird get hit ). How the fuck were these guys living out here in the bush? There wasn't enough meat on those birds they were killing to feed a toddler, let alone a tribe of bushmen. Surely it was all just a tourist safari and nothing was real?
WITH AFRICA'S WORST HUNTERS
I couldn’t wait to leave and was pissed off with myself for coming. I knew the video was going to be shit. You can feel it as you are making it. Me walking around some bush for 7 hours doing nothing was not interesting to me or a viewer. Even the gods of YouTube weren’t in the mood to help out with this one. He could have ordained a lion to eat one of the tribe. That would have made the video better. Alas...
And it wasn't Timmy's fault. He was always thinking of new ideas for videos and wanting to push the boundaries. To try new things and see what worked. That was why his channel was growing so fast with millions of views on his videos. But I was now lazy. I had had my peak and now just wanted to coast the road down into irrelevance with as little effort as possible. 'I'm 50 for fuck sake,' I thought to myself. 'What the fuck am I doing walking around with a tribe in 35c?' I wanted my borsch and babushkas.
STONE AGED TRIBESWOMAN WEARING AN LA LAKERS SHIRT. FUCK SAKE
Eventually we returned to camp where myself and Timmy ate some chunks of budgerigar breast cooked by the tribe whilst the driver packed our tent up. It tasted alright and there was definitely less chance of giving me the shits than anything I had eaten in India at least. It had been great to hang out with Timmy. We had had some funny moments despite the video plans not quite working out. The trip was over. Sometimes you win some and sometimes you lose. I wouldn't be getting 60 million views like the other bloke. That's life.
I should have gone to Ukraine.