Wanneer Jeroen van Bergeijk in Burkina Faso in een Mercedes-taxi stapt en een vergeelde sticker van voetbalclub PSV op het dashboardkastje ziet, begint zijn fantasie te leven. Niets aan de auto herinnert nog aan zijn land van herkomst: springveren steken door de stoelen en de motorkap zit vol roestplekken. Hoe is die auto hier terechtgekomen?
Een jaar later reist Van Bergeijk in een oude Mercedes Diesel van Amsterdam naar West-Afrika. Hij doorkruist Marokko, de woestijn van Mauretanië, de binnenlanden van Mali en Ghana, en belandt via Togo en Benin in Ouagadougou. Hij krijgt pech met zijn Mercedes en maakt een staatsgreep mee in Togo. Onderweg gaat hij op zoek naar de handelaren en avonturiers die in oude auto's door de woestijn crossen om ze in Afrika met winst te verkopen.
There's a certain breed of travelogue I enjoy, in which some intrepid person sets out on an outlandish adventure that I would never take myself, but am eager to experience from the armchair. This book, about a Dutchman who drives a Mercedes from Amsterdam to Benin to sell it, fits my parameters perfectly. It's a short and sweet detailing of the trials and tribulations involved (none of which should be surprising, from the con-artist guides, to the bribe-demanding border guards, to the inevitable breakdowns) in driving an almost 20-year-old car with something like 100,000 miles on the odometer across Morocco, the Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Togo, and finally, Benin.
The book has a little bit of everything, from the author's semi mid-life crisis, to an examination of the ideas of form, function, and quality as expressed in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Western aid to Africa, the quest for authenticity in tourism, and old-fashioned descriptive travel narrative. The underlying premise is an interesting one: a used car that would be destined for the scrap heap in Western Europe, due to the relative cost of repairing it vs. the overall value, can be sold at a profit in Africa, where the labor cost to repair such a car is minimal and the need for transportation is high. There is, in fact, a booming trade in such scrapheap cars, and along the way, the author finds himself in one of the continent's largest auto-repair zones, a sprawling industrial enclave in Ghana.
At times the book reads like a depressing catalogue of African cliches (the border guards and other corrupt officials), the smug European expats, the slimy middlemen, the inevitable coup -- however, there's enough else of interest to keep it interesting, and the tone is generally pretty light. Interspersed are brief chapters in which the author tracks down the previous owners of his car in order to discover its history, which are interesting, but a little too intrusive. I pretty much enjoyed the book as a light read, but was left with a sour taste at the end when the author's note reveals that the "trip" described in the book was actually portions of several trips woven together, and that he had travel partners never mentioned anywhere in the narrative. I don't necessarily have a problem with that approach (putting the "creative" in creative non-fiction), but it could have been expressed right up front, instead of hidden in the back, where it cheapens the entire story.
I have read other Sahara/travel books and enjoyed them, so I picked this up. I gave up because the style didn't engage me, and the writer seemed to be stalling for time, dragging out the opening. First, a long summary of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," apparently connected to how he views his car, then a long description of his trip to the Mercedes factory in Bremen. At that point I gave up.
I liked this quite well - the Dutch author's laconic narrative was fine for me, although it might drag for some folks. He intersperses a bit of history of the Mercedes and the previous owners of the aging D-190 that he is driving to sell in Burkina Faso, but not such that it detracts from the main narrative. And really, there is something funny about how some countries are associated with particular used car makes - a New York Times article in the last few days talks about the popularity of Toyota Corollas in Afghanistan.
I was surprised though that he reveals at the very end that he lost some of his notes from the first trip (the one he earlier claimed to be writing about) and did the whole thing again with his wife and child and that this book is actually an amalgam of the two trips. Oh-kay, I guess. This sort of thing happens a lot (a single trip for a book project ends up taking multiple trips) but usually the authors point this out in the introduction, not on the last page.
Fun book - I like the spirit of adventure this author brings to his tale - he shares both his frustrations with his journey, but also with his "wish" for his journey, or his "dream" of what it should be like. Not sure I would try the same thing (the border crossings sound fairly sketchy for an inexperienced person).
Although I wasn't all that interested in the author's secondary quest to track down the vehicle's previous owners, the main story of driving through Africa made for a good travel narrative.
Vooral de ondertitel van de Engelstalige editie van Jeroen van Bergeijk’s Mijn Mercedes is niet te koop (From Amsterdam to Ouagadougou.. An Auto-Misadventure Across the Sahara) doet een doldwaas avontuur vermoeden. Dat blijkt bij lezing wel mee te vallen. Dat komt vooral omdat Van Bergeijk niet eens zo heel diep van binnen niet de avonturier is die hij stiekem wel graag zou willen zijn.
Waarom met een oude Mercedes dwars door de Sahara rijden als je niet geplaagd wordt door avonturendrang? In het geval van Jeroen van Bergeijk kwam het door een sticker. Een PSV-sticker in een oude Mercedes, z’n taxi, in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, waar hij toevallig voor een bruiloft was. Het doorgeroeste voertuig bleek een Nederlands verleden te hebben. Van Bergeijk, journalist van beroep, wilde uitzoeken hoe dat gaat, zo’n afgedankte auto van Europa naar West-Afrika krijgen en werkt die fascinatie grondig uit.
Het zal wie puur leest voor het avontuur minder aanspreken, maar een van de sterkste aspecten van het boek is de geschiedenis van de auto waar het allemaal om draait. Zijn ‘Mercedes leren kennen zoals je nieuwe vrienden wilt leren kennen’, is het doel en Van Bergeijk gaat daarbij grondig te werk. Hij bezoekt de Duitse autofabriek waar zijn 190 D model in 1988 van de band rolde. Die ‘geboortegrond’, waar auto’s met de grootst mogelijke zorg en de nieuwste technieken in elkaar worden gezet, contrasteert sterk met de conditie van de taxi in Burkina Faso. Van Bergeijk toont de levensloop van zo’n auto door de beschrijvingen van zijn reis af te wisselen met korte hoofdstukjes over de vorige eigenaren. Zijn Mercedes 190 D beweegt daardoor zowel vooruit als achteruit in de tijd.
Het is een originele invalshoek, de hedendaagse wereld bekijken aan de hand van één auto. En het werkt omdat het Van Bergeijk ook daadwerkelijk lijkt te interesseren. Dat is waar het in zijn reisverslag een beetje aan schort. De auteur toont zich een nuchter reiziger die na een handvol vluchtige ontmoetingen al snel negatieve conclusies trekt. Pas na drie maanden reizen is hij ‘voor het eerst in Afrika hoopvol over de economische toekomst van het continent’. De bron van die hoop is een uitgestrekte autowerkplaats in het Ghanese Kumasi. ‘Er wordt hard gewerkt en geld verdiend’. Die Calvinistische inborst zit Van Bergeijk in zijn bespiegelingen over Afrika nogal in de weg. In plaats van zijn eigen onbegrip te onderzoeken, kiest hij er geregeld voor verder te trekken zodra de situatie niet aan zijn verwachtingen voldoet.
Goed, het is dan ook niet de gemakkelijkste weg die hij heeft uitgekozen. En hij weet zijn eigen beslommeringen wel te relativeren. Niet alleen aan de hand van de verschrikkingen die Sahara-gangers in vroegere tijden doorstonden maar ook door middel van zijn eigen droge beschrijvingen. ‘Alles verkeerd gedaan’, constateert hij op een gegeven moment. ‘Het eerste stuk zand van de Sahara en ik zit vast, kan niet meer voor- of achteruit’.
Mijn Mercedes is niet te koop was als gebundelde serie reportages waarschijnlijk veel beter uit de verf gekomen. Dan had het persoonlijke aspect dat nou eenmaal onlosmakelijk met reisverslagen verbonden is lekker achterwege kunnen blijven. Nu is het grote probleem van het boek dat het ondanks de vorm meer wil zijn dan een reisverslag. Als reisverslag is het ondanks de onderhoudende beschrijvingen van het uitdagende traject niet heel bijzonder. En van wat het meer had kunnen zijn, is er simpelweg te weinig.
Dat neemt niet weg dat Mijn Mercedes is niet te koop verplichte kost is voor iedereen die zelf eens een tweedehands auto door de woestijn wil loodsen. Niet alleen vanwege het praktische nut maar ook omdat het zelfs voor de nuchterste Hollander stiekem nog best een avontuurlijke reis blijkt.
I'll file this one under the genre of "Questionable Travel Narratives". It's a breezy and quick read...provocative on a number of worthy points ("Africa" as something writ large for non-Africans), the unintended consequences of global trade, Western (and now increasingly Eastern) consumerism, NGOs and the rise of the "African Internship as Resume Line For Sale" industry, meditations on 'time' and 'waiting' as they relate to travel and especially non-Africans traveling/navigating/negotiating their way through Africa, the ways non-Africans use the continent to fulfill their imposed rites-of-passage (literal and figurative) through 'adventure', 'quest', and commercial enterprise. And, the eco-foot print of the world's used machinery, circulating about the globe and finding literal purchase on specific shores, creating reefs of wrecks, whole cities of enterprise and entrepreneurial specialization (and bio-hazard nightmares).
That's a lot of ground to cover in a 'breezy' read, yeah? I wondered much of the short time it took to read this story if I wanted the author to go deeper in his research (ala Kurlansky)...to make this a more bit more substantial and less magazine-like. But, in the end, I was willing to take the book for what it is. The author's note at the end is provocative, too, and poses a couple of questions I love to hear other writers of personal reportage weigh in.... I'd also like to know how this book resonates with people who have spent time in these countries (Ghana, Benin, Burkina Faso, Morocco, etc.) and likely seen a steady stream of people like Van Bergeijk pass through or arrive with either a car, an angle, or a book to pitch. Having just sort of savaged Bryson's A Walk In The Woods for some of the same reasons I'm sort of praising Van Bergeijk I'm guessing that one's personal attachment to a place or set of experiences likely guide or tip prejudice in response.
the author/narrator kind of made himself unlikeable, i thought personally, in a series of similar occurances of his interactions with strangers--like when he turned down the experience the surfer offered, or expressed his tiredness/annoyance as a reason he responded to someone somewhat rudely/abruptly (despite his reaction most often being precedented. i also was confused about the whol etrying to sell the car (or not?) theme? i dont know if this because i read the first 30 or so pages at one point and then picked up the rest a couple of weeks later. but he kept getting a nnoyed by people trying to buy it, then mentioned trying to sell it, so i was reading the jacket... and then under the impression for the rest of the book that he had been offered a book deal for this purpose and the whole thing was comprised of him delaying the actual event so that hed have enough to write a book on. which just kept striking is oddly disingenuous, although im still nt sure how much/if that really bothered me. i guess my resounding final note was how much this book made me not ever want to go to north africa (which is ironically where the narrator of the next book i read was from--or maybe nto ironically since they both came off of the same librarian-preposed display)
overall, i liked this book because i love and at several points dedicated a notable amount of effort into locating 'road tripping' books, to no real avail, only to randomly encounter this display featuring a couple (and seeing that 'travelegoue' was a publishing subjec,) as a summer themed arrangement at the library ive lately frequented. i also like the initial chapter on the art of motorcyle maintenance because at some point i came to the bemused conviction that the entire account was detailing what i refer to, and what exists in constance relevance in my own life, as 'ghetto rigging.' which reminds me, i made a note to figure out how a juice can can handle exhaust issues? time to find out!
This book meanders for a while, taking up nearly its entire length before the stories become interesting. It reads like a not-all-that-exciting magazine article that has been stretched by 190 pages, full of summaries of better books, until the very end when the stories finally become interesting and the portraits of the places begin to feel fleshed out.
The problem is that Jeroen Van Bergeijk is a jerk. He is easily duped by a few con artists and so becomes bitter about the experience, making mildly racist sweeping generalizations about the people of Africa and whatever country he is then in and avoids further human contact. The mild racism reaches a peak near the middle of the book when he "solves" the problem of African financial woe with a train of thought so unoriginal and flawed it is painful to read. Near the end, however, he stumbles across some interesting people and holds back his judgment for a few pages to let them speak. This does wonders for the book. If only he had shut up and let people talk the book would have been more interesting and alive.
I learned nothing really from this book, other that I should probably read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and the worldview put forth is not one I would recommend any person to adopt. I had wondered to a friend why it seemed the Bill Bryson had an almost-monopoly of shelf space at my local Barnes and Noble, but the answer was easy: He at least is funny when he's talking and he's good at shutting up for long enough to let the inhabitants speak for their country rather than summing it up for us.
Since I'm home all day with three preschoolers, I'm looking for books that allow me to travel - not just fantasy literature, but authors who have really traveled somewhere interesting in our world today. This book is more than a travel adventure, as the author has some good insight into how to really "help" the developed world. He points out that he has no scruples about the trade in used cars. He drives his 1988 Mercedes Benz from Holland, through the Sahara and down through several more African countries and witnesses first hand the thriving car trade business. He believes that Africa is ultimately better served by fair trade than by an sort of development aid. The story wanders at some points, with a bit more foul language than I like to see in a book. But over-all, it's worth reading.
There's a lot of fun stuff in this book -- for example, a description of trying to get through customs in an African country. The book is partially about traveling through a different culture and partially about the used automobile market worldwide.
I'm guessing this book will land around three stars for many because in addition to delivering what you might expect (travel, car talk, adventure) it also delivers content you might not expect (descriptions of past adventure literature, etc.).
As a reader you can't really relate to the author as an amateur everyman (because he seems to know what he's doing) but you also can't look to him for expert advice. The author falls somewhere in the middle. So again, overall an enjoyable book that lands around 3 stars.
A Dutch guy drives from The Netherlands through West Africa, in order to sell his car. I like travelogues, this one's modern and goes through a part of Africa I have only read about (he goes through the Western Sahara, where they shipwrecked in one of the books I read earlier this year). It's a little different from most of the ones I read, because instead of just wandered around, he had a specific purpose.
There's a little history, a little musing on development (only sanctimonious in a couple of spots), and enough history thrown in to make it feel a little educational... but mostly it's hella entertaining.
As the two-star rating should tell you: it was OK. Something about the tone/voice left me cold. I felt like I still didn't know the author very well even after being "with" him on the road for three months. And it seemed like he didn't meet very many nice people or have many positive experiences.
But he does give a pretty good picture of West Africa from a foreigner's point of view. It was fun to read his perspectives on Bamako, Ouagadougou, and Dakar, all places I've been.
And he does give interesting insight into importation of cars from Europe to W. Africa -- who does it, how, how much they make, etc.
I like travelogues, so I liked this one to but just a little. I can't really put my finger on why I didn't really liked it. Maybe it had something to do with the recurring references to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values, although I'm currently reading that book as well and I like it... I just don't need to read that book through someone else his eyes... Maybe it had something to do with the tone of voice... Maybe... well I don't know. It could only engage me for a short time every time I picked it up.
This was a brief but entertaining read. The author buys a used Mercedes to drive from Europe to West Africa...don't forget that the Sahara desert is smack in the middle of that journey!
Van Bergeijk is not the first to take this type of trip nor will he be the last; his account is engaging though not ground-breaking as he weaves in history of others' journeys, the provinence of his particular used car and tales of his missteps along the way.
We'd rather be an armchair traveler on this kind of adventure; we're happy to enjoy this account from the comfort of our couch. A fun read that would be something you could start and easily finish on the plane ride to Africa.
Armchair traveling, for sure! A Dutchman describes his trip driving a 16 year old Mercedes from Amsterdam to Burkina Faso. Armchair traveling in that this is not something that I would ever attempt and the whole book is from a traveler's point of view--road conditions, border crossings, auto repairs, accommodations from a tent to an upscale hotel. Van Bergeijk throws in some tales of early trans Saharan travel, the background that he can find out about his car, and some of his own musings on Africa and attitudes toward the auto. A quick, fun read.
Fun, interesting, kept me flipping between the page I was currently reading and the map of West Africa at the beginning to track his journey. A nice complement to "Long Way Down" which I just finished. Two treks into Africa, accomplished in two totally different ways. Loved the fairly truthful (I'm assuming...) assessment of the people he encountered along the way: the hardworking, the honest, the struggling, the lazy, the cheats, all of them.
Interesting read about some places I know well, though pretty superficial and full of stereotypes, especially of himself and the guys who take a gap year to drive from Europe to Africa, selling their car for more than it is worth to pay for their trip - no particular insights gained, though it is a bit curious that he went back again taking his family - not sure whether that meant his siblings and parents or his girlfriend and child.
Not a typical book I would choose but my husband gave it to me for a birthday gift as we used to own a mercedes and we have both lived/worked in Africa previously. I really enjoyed the author's storytelling, you could really feel his inner monologue and emotions at every turn of the adventure. One star off because sometimes I wished there were a little more detail in the timeline of the story. Overall excellent story and a really unique perspective.
Short but interesting book about a man who decides to drive an older model Mercedes across north Africa to sell - not an uncommon trip, apparently. Learned quite a bit about the car trade in Europe and Africa, and about Africa itself. I love non-fiction like this - something I'll never experience myself, presented interestingly and thoughtfully.
I don't know why I can't get into this book. It has a moderately interesting topic and I am not a super fiesty book critic. I usually devour all literature. I have 25 pages left in this book and I WILL finish it tonight. I do have to say that the way the author jumps around from past to present is a bit confusing. There is not a good transition between. Meh...
I've been doubting between 2 and 3 stars, because of the bad after taste this book left. Even though I still would never want to venture into West Africa, I enjoyed his stories. I felt decived however when I learned at the end of the book that this wasn't one amazing journey, it was two; pieced together.
Interesting travel book. Things I liked: the travelogue across the Sahara, the historical accounts of Saharan explorers through the years, interwoven throughout. Things I didn't like: the profanity.
A man's diary of buying a very old Mercees and driving from Europe to West Central Africa. Apparently this happens more often than we would ever believe it would. It's a challenge to rive a car across the Sahara Desert and that's some of the allure.
Thoroughly enjoyable book about a Dutch man who buys a used Mercedes Benz and travels to Africa to sell it. He describes his 3 month adventure in West Africa and at the same time researches who the previous owners of his car were. Fun to read!!!
Sorry, but this book was not what it was cracked up to be and seemed to be a bunch of fabrication. It just makes me not want to ever visit West Africa.