A Single Swallow

Review: Damien Enright

In the course of keeping pace with the birds, he would travel the length of Africa and record his experiences of out-of-the-way places where only mad birders might go. The pursuit would give him a purpose for his journey, a unifying theme. He would travel light and as cheaply as possible. Somewhere in central Africa, the swallows that winter in Botswana and the Cape of Good Hope split into three tribes. He would follow the route of the tribe that reaches Britain and Ireland each year.

The resultant book works excellently. It is not so much about birds as about places and about the people met in transit, the kindness of strangers and the adventures that befall those who venture off the beaten path. It is encouraging for independent travellers to learn that he crossed ‘no-go’ areas of Africa and survived.

Swallows are familiar from the Cape to the edge of the Arctic Circle. They are a bond in common between nations and cultures worlds apart. Everywhere they fly, they are recognised as harbingers of change, departing in winter, arriving in summer. They come and go whether there is war or peace. Their constancy has enshrined them in the culture of every country they visit. Often, they have local, descriptive names. In African tribal tongues they are called, variously, the home bird, the bird that never tires, the bird that brings rain. In Spanish, they are called Golondrina and “the melter of snows”. In Irish, as we know, the swallow is “an fainleóg”, celebrated in an early Irish fiddle tune, An Fáinleóg Beag, and in Irish heraldry.

As the author treks north, he travels with one eye on the sky. News of the swallows’ passage gives him a talking point with strangers met in deserts, swamps and highlands. His transport is rental cars, buses, trains, canoes, ships and even a camel. Unlike the swallows, he must remain earthbound, once only joining them in their element, this when he flies over the Democratic Republic of Congo, too dangerous for even the most derring-do.

Before setting off, Clare has mapped his journey in theory; but theory doesn’t always work. Diversions must be made. Hair-raising incidents result due to the terrain, the crazy drivers on the African roads, the lightning storms and downpours, the military checkpoints. His encounters with local people, in the Cape, Namibia, Zambia, Congo-Brazzaville, Cameroon, Nigeria, Niger, Algeria, Morocco, Spain and France are laced with a sense of humour and a refreshing open-mindedness. He is hail-fellow-well-met with those he meets and they respond in the same spirit.

In his battered rental cars, travelling over roads with potholes deep enough to drown in, he picks up hitchhikers, African jobseekers and country boys, American Peace Corp workers, adventuring backpackers, stoned-out hippies. His descriptions of landscape are lyrical and eloquent but, like a bird-mad twitcher, he is at times skittish, almost silly. However, his sheer enthusiasm, married with the ever-changing diversity of the trek and the fascinating passages in which he describes it, makes up for these lapses which are few, if annoying, at times.

While, for birders, the details of the swallow’s migratory journey will add fascination to the book, fixation with birds is by no means a prerequisite for its enjoyment. A Single Swallow is an original read, entertaining and informative as a travel book alone.

While recommending it, I must also recommend Livingstone’s People, A Journey from Zanzibar to the Cape by Stephen Taylor (Penguin Books), albeit Taylor travelled there ten years ago. It has few birds, but I found it impossible to put down. As an antithesis to its guarded hope for Africa, Blood River: A journey to Africa’s Broken Heart by Tim Butcher (Vintage) details the insoluble tragedy that that continent, especially The Democratic Republic of Congo, increasingly becomes.