"The only way to become truly free is when we have nothing left to lose."

 First off: I actually started writing this article a few weeks ago, but the computer I was using didn't really function that well so I lost half of what I had written. Well, things happen for a reason. A lesson I keep learning for each step here in Africa.

So here I am, resting my smelly, weary feet in on Living Art Organic Farm in Noordhoek, south of Cape Town. It's been a long ride so far, and i'm only at the beginning of my journey. Started out in Johannesburg, went all the way down to Durban, then up to Bloemfontein only to arrive in Cape Town after that. I've bathed my feet at the indian ocean in Durban, and have done the same in the atlantic ocean here in Noordhoek. It's been more than two months on the road for me in this amazingly beautiful country. South Africa. I've fallen in love with this country. The people, the cities, the farms, the scenic landscapes, the deserts, the mountains and even the beer. And i'm not done yet. In early November i'm planning to swing by Lesotho for a few days to get an extra three months in this country. I tried the other way via the Department of Home Affairs, but I came to the conclusion that bureaucracy is not my cup of tea. I'd rather do things my way.

What have I been doing so far? Well, my first ten days I spent in Johannesburg which was kinda nice, had a few beers, met some people and even got myself a sightseeing tour through some of the worst areas in the city(and in the world). After that I headed southeast for my first WWOOF'ing experience. For those of you who have no clue of what WWOOF is: It's a world wide organization which gathers farms(usually organic) all over the world where one can work in exchange for food and accommodation. Quite useful when traveling on a shoestring budget and you get to learn a lot. My first WWOOF'ing experience was at Donkey Valley Farm, located between Volksrust, Mpumalanga and Newcastle, KwaZulu-Natal. I stayed there for about two weeks and got to build a fence. first time in my life i've ever built anything properly. My experience at that farm  is kinda mixed, I loved the location but I didn't feel that I got along that well with the family that hosted me. Nothing bad, but sometimes the wavelengths of communication are simply not aligned with each other. So I decided to move on a few hundred kilometers to the south, to Howick and then onwards to Zuvuya eco-village. To get there I had to take a taxi(a taxi down here means a minivan that runs to and from cities and within cities, usually with up to 12-16 passengers, incredibly uncomfortable but ridiculously cheap). A note about the taxis: Most white people here in South Africa fear and loathe them just because they're mainly used by black people. Yes, people, racism still runs rampant here in the new South Africa. But ofc not all whites are racists, and yes it goes both ways, blacks vs whites, coloreds vs indians, everyone vs everyone. There's a lot of deep wounds in this country which will take a long time to heal. But in general people are incredibly friendly.
Anyways, I took a taxi from Newcastle to Howick, sat uncomfortable for about 2-3 hours and then I took another one to Impendle community(a zulu-village) where I met up with my hosts at Zuvuya where I had my second WWOOF'ing experience. And what can I say? I loved that place and I've vowed to go back there one day, actually had to promise them that I would and I will. Zuvuya is a somewhat self-sustainable Eco-village in the KwaZulu-Natal midlands with their own mountain and I had a great time there.

Here ends the first part of my original article and I will not try to rewrite what I lost, but instead swing it in a new direction and write something completely different.  I've learned a lot while on the road so far, time works differently, I see the world with a different set of eyes. I see clearly for the first time in my life. Nothing is impossible, it's never too late and, most importantly, things happen for a reason. Since I left my "home", the so called safety of society, my job and my so called "friends", things have finally gone my way. Everything I do feels right and i've met so many wonderful people along the way. People that have taught me something, helped me, given me hints or people that i've simply helped with an inspiring thought or two. People have been so amazingly helpful along my way. So far I haven't spent a single cent on accommodation, and barely any on food. I feel incredibly happy for the first time in my life to be alive and I feel lucky to be in this situation. But I still have fears. I'm currently still living on my hard-earned savings and they won't last me forever, they will take me far and wide for a long time, but one day they eventually will run out. But one day when I was walking around in Bloemfontein, just killing time while waiting for my couchsurfing hosts to show up, a homeless guy named William(I'll never forget that guy) pops up out of nowhere, grabs me, asking me where i'm from. We ended up trading things on the sidewalk while cars were rushing by us, people were trying their best not to see the two hobos talking excitedly on the street, discussing the meaning of life and laughing out loud. He gave me a rubik cube and I gave him a beanie to keep him warm during the cold nights. But it is what he told me that affected me the most. He told me that the only way to become truly free is when we have nothing left to lose. That one hit right on the spot. That is my only, for once, real fear at the moment. When my savings run out. But I know deep inside that I will manage to survive and keep going. I know that I will figure out a way to keep going. I'm a survivor and that's what we do. We keep going no matter what. I refuse to go back to the life I left just because I run out of money. Life cares none for money, careers and the other problems and concerns that is within and created by "our" society. And i've had many people telling me, ensuring me that I will be able to make it, people who supports me constantly tells me to never give up, to keep going no matter what. And I will. My plan so far is to learn a trade or a craft along the way so I can make some money to support my traveling. I'm asking for it and therefore it will come. I am working towards it and therefore an opportunity will come. I am currently learning all the time. The things i'm doing now, the situations I end up in these days, I couldn't even imagine them happen to me a year ago.
Slowly, day by day, i'm letting go of my fear and one day it'll be gone. Forever.

Everything seem to fall in place.

The Essence of Punk.

Here I am, in South Africa, travelling around and so far having the time of my life. But there is still something that is gnawing in the back of my head. And I'm using this blog as some sort of therapy and today the subject is Punk, or more or less the hypocrisy and arrogance within the scene which has annoyed me for years and added to my severe depression which only made it worse.
A few days before I left Sweden for South Africa a friend of mine told me that some people are "concerned" with me having changed appearance. What the fuck?! Yes I have changed appearance, I don't have spikes or a mohawk(s) in a thousand colours anymore, nor do I wear my studded leather jacket and vegetarian steel capped boots. Why not? First off: Imagine yourself travelling with all that gear, and i'm gonna be on the road for a pretty long time. These past years my has appearance evolved not only resemble my new way of life, but also because it became more comfortable(for an example) wearing sneakers, black loose clothing etc. Makes travelling a hell of a lot easier. I still repair my own clothes, still D.I.Y. as fuck. But the thing is, just because my appearance and my lifestyle has evolved doesn't have to mean that i've become "normal" and have decided that i'm gonna get myself a house, two dogs, a car and a wife in a friendly crime-free neighbourhood(i'm actually doing quite the opposite, getting rid of everything in order to live MY life the way I want to live it, now that's punkrock if anything!). If you, the idiots who are seemingly assuming things behind my back would've come up to me and asked me not only what I was doing, why I went off to the forests for several months, and how I was doing, things would've been so much better, wouldn't it?
That's the problem with the scene today. As soon as someone sticks out or changes a wee bit, we assume and turn to gossip behind that person's back, or even spit at her/him. I did that myself when I was younger, always hated when people changed, since I thought punkrock was leather, studs, spikes, steel capped boots and a huge record collection. But it isn't. It's way more than that.
I find it quite funny that in a scene where we all claim to be free individuals, different in our own world, we are actually clones of one and another. We dress the same as thousands of others in our little "free" world. We think the same, we talk the same, we even fucking walk the same. And as for the rest of society, we're still the same as everything else, only that we're something of a "tribe", our own "secret" society or more precisely, a subculture. We gossip, we lie, we bullshit one another, we spend our time creating drama, we instigate, we drink, we hunt the pussy/the dick, we do drugs, we use money, some of us pay rent, some of us work or live on welfare, we're like some fucking big brother-show, but with thousands of participants. The worst part is, if you do not dress in a certain way, listen to certain bands, wear the right patches etc you have a problem being accepted, and everyone knows about this bullshit, but in the same time we refuse to acknowledge it. We apply the same group pressure we claim to be free of. And then we have the rockstar behaviour: If you play in the right band, or know the right people, everyone will, without question, kiss your ass.
Anyone who are familiar with The Restarts can look up the song "Static", there you have what I feel, and have felt for years. After years of mental decay, depression, friends fading or dying off I've simply decided to take matters into my own hands.

Don't take me wrong here, I love punkrock and the spirit of punk. Punk has kept me alive since I was 12-13 years old. Giving me hope and strength when the world was crashing down all at once around me, several times throughout the years. It has given me reason to go on. It was(and still is) a world for me where I could find other fucked up individuals coming from shattered homes with no hope of a bright future. It was something I could call home. But as the years went by I started seeing all the hypocrisy, the hidden hierarchy which is, unfortunately, a huge part of the scene today. To be honest, I hate it. But I love punkrock and the spirit of punk, always have, always will. I'm not leaving the scene, I am, as I mentioned above, evolving into something more. Instead of spending day in and day out complaining about the world, the society and the system, spending my weekends on punkrock gigs getting drunk or fucked up on drugs i'm off to do something. I react to my situation, to my dreams, my fear and my hate towards this society. I'm taking action and that is punk if anything. A slap in the face. I've been slapped in the face by life for 27 years, now i'm slapping back and reclaiming what is rightfully mine: my right to live my life on my terms.

Do I claim to know what punk is? Can I describe it? We all know what punk is, but at the same time we don't. Punk is something similar to Zen(quite an off comparison I know); it's a contradiction. Punk is taking back control of your own life. Punk is purely individual. Punk is life. Punk is hate, love, activism, politics, chaos, rage, tenderness, gutters, trees, squats, open spaces, cities, forests and mountains, it is our planet, the essence of all life. Punk is human. Now that is my interpretation of Punk, each and everyone of us has their own(hopefully) version of what punk really is. It's all up to you. Punk for me is not having the biggest record collection ever, not mohawks or spikes nor studded jackets or steel capped boots. For me that is a label. Although a really neat looking label, but it doesn't really make us free, does it?

Another piece of honesty: About a year ago, a wee bit more, I tried to fuck off from the scene, I was so sick of all the bullshit and the hypocrisy(and the booze and the drugs) that I wanted to say "fuck it" and disappear into the mist. But that didn't work very well, did it? I can't change who I have become, what this world has turned me into, my roots. I am a punk and I can't change that, nor do I want to. A while I even tried to adapt to some aspects of the scene because I felt lonely, imagine that, to feel lonely in a scene which claims to stand together. But I did, people died off or faded away and so did the world around me several times, and I tried to adapt and evolve in order not to feel lonely. But it didn't quite work, just made me feel more and more like an outsider in a world which I saw as my home, and still is. So here I am, saying fuck off to everything except myself. Fuck off to all you hypocrites, all you liars, backstabbers and two-faced cunts. Fuck all you so called rockstars and you fucks who claim themselves to be the perfect punkrocker/squatter/anarchist/activist/hobo. Fuck off to all you fucks who didn't support me when I had my mental breakdown and I didn't want to drink alcohol, you fucks who instead wanted to offer me beer in order to make me feel better(which you didn't, you only wanted a drinking companion and thought you were doing something good since you paid for the beer), fuck all of you who didn't fucking bother to ask how I was doing, why I was doing what i've been doing in order to do what i'm doing right now. Fuck all of you who were just interested in having me to come to shows so I could swag a few beers with you.
And my deepest respect to those of you who have been there, supporting me, understanding me and talked to me and listened to my ramblings about life throughout these past years. Much love to you, you know who you are. Wherever I go, you are there as well.

New years eve 2006/2007

My first steps in Africa...

Here I am then. Africa. Or more precisely Johannesburg, South Africa. Been here a couple of days now, arrived here last friday. Will be staying here until sunday where I will continue my travels and go south-east to the province of KwaZulu-Natal, to volunteer on a farm there.
What have I done here in Johannesburg so far? I've met good people, been drinking tasty beer and i'm freezing my ass off, literally, since it's winter down here. So far i've not yet been to the Apartheid museum, but hopefully one day I will manage to see it. I can't take the bus from where I am since  there is barely any buses going, this city is built for cars. And since I don't have a driving license i'm more or less dependant on the people I've gotten to know down here, and it's not that fun being this dependant on people. Especially since you can't go out alone during certain times of the day, in case you might get assaulted, robbed/mugged or whatever, some areas is a definitely no-no. Why? Well the crime-rate in South Africa, and especially Johannesburg is among the highest in the world, if not the highest.  Driving around on the streets here you see poor, homeless people everywhere. Quite the contrast from safe Scandinavia, and in some parts even europe. There are people trying to sell you stuff in every intersection/traffic lights(called Robot down here), you see people walking around in droves by the highway. There is poverty in Scandinavia and europe, but not like this, and i've seen nothing yet. This is only the beginning. A few days ago I got a ride through Hillbrow, the most dangerous area in Johannesburg, this was during the day so it was OK. But you could see the decline. There were hi-jacked buildings(there are apparently a thousand hi-jacked buildings in Johannesburg city centre with about 14000 people living in them. An hi-jacked building is often controlled by gangs or druglords and mostly the buildnings are not maintained, they look like shit) here and there and neighbourhood watches driving around. And my drivers re-assuring me that this is a place where I don't want to be at night. There are quite a few areas like that here in Johannesburg. Considering the amount of poverty it doesn't really surprise me. If you can't get a job here, or study, you are basically fucked, you get nothing from the government. Some lucky individuals do, but like 75% of the unemployed receives nothing at all. So that's the reason to why the crime rate is so high here, it's all about survival, not to get rich, not in most cases anyways. Besides that Johannesburg is a beautiful city, but there's contrasts everywhere, extreme poverty and extreme wealth side by side. And I haven't been to any of the townships yet. The people i've met so far has been great. Warm and helpful.

That's all for now. I'm alive and well in Roodepoort, Johannesburg.

Laters!

Here we go.

I'm off! Left my work on friday and became homeless at the same time. Everything is packed to the brim in my backpack and i'm set to go. Currently hanging out at a friends house in Gothenburg, Sweden. Somewhat hungover from last night since I had a few beers to celebrate my newly found freedom. It's been quite a while since last time. But definitely a reason to have a few beers with good friends, with the world at your feet.
I ended up giving my computer and my bike away, couldn't stand the hassle of trying to sell them(didn't try that hard though, the guy who was supposed to buy the computer bailed out), besides my landlord(and now former co-worker) needed a computer and her daughter needed a bike. So I thought since they'd let me stay there for free(they even refused to let me help them with stuff etc) since the end of march, a fully functional, decent computer and bike would hopefully be enough. It didn't feel bad to delete all the images and mp3's I had on the computer, it felt more like a relief, I don't have to worry about them anymore, still got some good tunes on my mp3-player to keep me company, and ofc some books.
Think i'll head down to Malmö tommorrow to visit some friends there, haven't seen my god-daughter for about 2 years and now is a good time to do so.

I'll catch you laters...

What exit!?

"It IS possible to get out of a trap. However, in order to break out of a prison, one first must confess to being in a prison. The trap is wo/man's emotional structure, her/his character structure. There is little use in devising systems of thought about the nature of the trap if the only thing to do in order to get out of the trap is to know the trap and to find the exit. Everything else is utterly useless: Singing hymns about the suffering in the trap, as the enslaved Negro does; or making poems about the beauty of freedom outside of the trap, dreamed of within the trap; or promising a life outside the trap after death, as Catholicism promises its congregations; or confessing a semper ignorabimus as do the resigned philosophers; or building a philosophic system around the despair of life within the trap, as did Schopenhauer; or dreaming up a superman who would be so much different from the man in the trap, as Nietzsche did, until, trapped in a lunatic asylum, he wrote, finally, the full truth about himself—too late. . . .

The first thing to do is to find the exit out of the trap. The nature of the trap has no interest whatsoever beyond this one crucial point: WHERE IS THE EXIT OUT OF THE TRAP?

One can decorate a trap to make life more comfortable in it. This is done by the Michelangelos and the Shakespeares and the Goethes. One can invent makeshift contraptions to secure longer life in the trap. This is done by the great scientists and physicians, the Meyers and the Pasteurs and the Flemings. One can devise great art in healing broken bones when one falls into the trap.


The crucial point still is and remains: to find the exit out of the trap. WHERE IS THE EXIT INTO THE ENDLESS OPEN SPACE?


The exit remains hidden. It is the greatest riddle of all. The most ridiculous as well as tragic thing is this:
THE EXIT IS CLEARLY VISIBLE TO ALL TRAPPED IN THE HOLE. YET NOBODY SEEMS TO SEE IT. EVERYBODY KNOWS WHERE THE EXIT IS. YET NOBODY SEEMS TO MAKE A MOVE TOWARD IT. MORE: WHOEVER MOVES TOWARD THE EXIT, OR WHOEVER POINTS TOWARD IT IS DECLARED CRAZY OR A CRIMINAL OR A SINNER TO BURN IN HELL.

It turns out that the trouble is not with the trap or even with finding the exit. The trouble is WITHIN THE TRAPPED ONES.

All this is, seen from outside the trap, incomprehensible to a simple mind. It is even somehow insane. Why don't they see and move toward the clearly visible exit? As soon as they get close to the exit they start screaming and run away from it. As soon as anyone among them tries to get out, they kill her/him. Only a very few slip out of the trap in the dark night when everybody is asleep."

from The Murder of Christ, (1953) by Wilhelm Reich.

"...See you around!"

One way or another we all come back, eh? All we need is a break from it all? A breather? This is after all the real world, isn't it? The natural order of things, right? We have to be realistic, don't we? Dreams are dreams and can only be perceived as such, right? This is it, isn't it? Why even bother? I mean, we can't really do anything about our situation now, can we? It's just a phase, will soon pass, won't it?
I have full respect for people who wish for my return and when they start to make plans for when I come back. I can understand it. I even understand those who continuously tell me that I will come back, that we all need a break every once in a while. That I will most likely fail in whatever I try to do. That I am crazy and brave. But that I will fail and come back.
Wanna know a secret? Promise not to tell anyone? Promise!!
Ok, here we go:

I DON'T WANT TO COME BACK!

I hate this way of life. I cannot possibly go back to being a wage slave again once I've managed to escape that life. Trust me, I will do whatever I can to prevent it from happening. Perhaps one day I will come back to Scandinavia and live here, but not the same way. Not ever again. To all of you who keep saying that I will return, that I will fail and give up: Is it your own fear speaking? I know it is. Are you simply jealous? I know you are. Do you wish that you could do the same? I know you do, and you can. Perhaps I might fail, perhaps times will get rough, and they will, oh yes they will, same way things will go well, it's called "the natural balance of life". Will I want to give up and go back to this world of "safety"? Perhaps.
I've come a long way already. I've gone through a lot of changes(internal as external) in order to do this. I've worked hard for this. Most importantly, i've been dreaming about this my whole life. And now finally i'm at the threshold. I will not give up. I'd rather spend the rest of my life on the road, free, happy and in control of my life, than to go back to a life of corporate slavery just to feel "safe". One thing I can promise, if I do come back to become a wage slave again, suicide won't be far off. This I know. I want to live, that's why i'm doing this in the first place. To live my life. To see what's out there.

I'll round this one off with a well known quote from a very wise man, Jiddu Krishnamurti, a man who knew what life is about, that living one's life is more important than any record album, any car, any partner, any job, any house etc.

"It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society."

See you around!

"Crazy eyes"

You've seen us on the streets. You've passed us on a busy sidewalk during rush hour. You've shared an elevator with one of us. You've passed one or several of us on a dusty country road. You've seen us on your television when you come home from work, school or the unemployment office. You've shared a dance floor with one or several of us. You've read about some of our actions or deeds  in the newspapers.
You have undoubtedly seen us. You undoubtedly know of our existence. You do your very best denying the fact that we do exist. The governments and "our" society are doing their best to help you ignore our existence.
You know we are out there. Roaming the world. Living our lives. Reclaiming every second that is rightfully ours.

You have seen the light in our eyes. You have noticed the fire burning within us. You have heard our cries of freedom. You have noticed we thrive in excitement. You have noticed our impulsive behaviour. You know we are out of control. You have noticed us taking risks, chances that you would never even think of. You have heard our stories. Stories of survival. Stories of pain and grief. Stories of courage. Stories of adventure. Stories of joy and happiness. Stories of myth and legends. We are many. We have existed since the dawn of mankind.

You have seen us turn the streets into dance floors. You have seen us on the burning barricades of a riot. You have seen us establish self-sustainable villages out in the wilderness. You have seen us walking towards the sunset, travelling like nomads. You have heard our laughter in the distance. You have seen us walking out of our jobs in anger. You have seen us fight for our lives in wars and rebellions. You have seen us survive. You have seen us die. You have seen our "crazy eyes", sharp and filled with life, vivid. We have scared you, made you feel uncomfortable. We have made you feel safe.

Many have recognised us and are trying their best to resemble us. They want to be like us. They buy clothes to dress as something what they believe to be us. They buy records as they believe music is what represents what we stand for. They buy items, they consume for they believe that in that way they can become us. They buy to pretend. All the while they despise us for we do not seek recognition, we do not seek fame, we do not seek wealth. But these pretenders do.

No matter in what situation you might find us in, you know we are there. You know we exist.
We have been called or called ourselves many things. Punk rockers(or any other subcultural group). Squatters. Anarchists(or any other political ideology). Free spirits. Nomads. Travellers. Liberation fighters. Terrorists. Activists. Freaks. Outcasts. Homeless. Misunderstood. Misfits. Insane. Explorers. Adventurers. Healers. Warriors. Leaders. Scavengers. Looters. Hermits. We do not belong to any political organization or subcultural group. No way is the right way. No truth is the one truth. No moral is the correct and ethical moral.
What we truly are is as obvious as the rising sun:

We are humans.

Come join us.
There is no fee, no payments, no mortgages, no rent, no jobs,  no bosses, no obligations, no fear, no political agenda, no organizations, no rules, no laws, no morals, no religions, no bills, no taxes, no borders, no countries, no visas, no money, no demands, no consumerism, no capitalism, no racism, no government. All you need is to believe in yourself. You need to believe in your right to live your life as you see fit, but not on the expense of others. It is possible, all you have to do is to open your eyes and let go. Let go of everything that holds you down.
Let go.

Live your life.