150 years separate two explorers of Africa: the Englishman
John Hanning Speke and South African Sihle Khumalo. Speke
set out to “discover” the source of the Nile, and Khumalo to
fi gure out what the hell Speke and men like him were after.
Khumalo’s 2008 journey to Central Africa was not without
its challenges. First he had to outperform his famous
earlier trip and book Dark Continent My Black Arse. Then he
elected to travel, as before, by public transport only. Which
in practice often meant more transit and less transport.
Giving himself a mere four weeks, and propelled by a
frank fascination with the Victorian explorers, Khumalo set
out on a six-pronged quest aiming, inter alia, to ferry across
Lake Tanganyika, stand on the equator in Uganda, bungee
jump at the source of the Nile, or see if any mountain gorillas
were forthcoming (none were).
But it was his emotive visit to the Memorial Centre at
Kigali, epicentre of the Rwandan genocide, that brought
home elemental questions: What is at the heart of Africa?
What makes me an African? Where lies my centre?
Heart of Africa is the unputdownable account of a journey
that seldom went as planned. Khumalo’s unfailing eye for
the good, the bad and the amusing in Africa, his refreshing
candour and his sheer cheek, make this book every bit as
delightful as its forerunner.