Jerome, the discreet adventurer.<\/p>\n
One day, he sent me a text message in which he wrote:
\n– “I went for a nice walk”.
\nKnowing the animal, I answered him:
\n– “What do you call a nice walk? \u00bb.
\nI then received a picture of the Everest base camp. Hilare, I wrote to him:
\n– “Some people call them expeditions. ”
\nThat’s what Jerome is like: a discreet adventurer … and modest.<\/p>\n
We met in Dakar in 2003, thanks to a mutual friend, Christophe.
\nChristophe was another one of those anonymous adventurers. He had toured Africa in 1998, crossing the Congo and Angola, then at war. He and Jerome had met not far from the border of Niger, which Christophe had crossed clandestinely for lack of a visa. Jerome was then the tutor of the President’s children. He lost his job a few months later in a coup d’\u00e9tat. At least I think so, I’m not too sure anymore. Anyway, coups d’\u00e9tat in Africa are almost commonplace.<\/p>\n
So in April 2003, I was in Dakar, when Christophe sent me an email warning me of the arrival of J\u00e9r\u00f4me, who had decided to go on a big motorcycle ride in Africa. But unlike me, he already knew this continent perfectly. After having lost his job as a tutor, he was doing one of those unlikely jobs that only Africa can offer: he was “project manager” for an airborne geophysical survey company. In other words, he spent his time in the bush managing teams that were responsible for surveying areas by airplane in order to detect areas likely to contain minerals.
\nEven though I was 10 years older than him, I was his Padawan: he taught me the art of driving on the runway. Without him, I don’t know if I would have been able to continue my journey.
\nWhen I arrived in Bamako and thanked him for his patience towards me, he answered me:
\n– “You know, I’ve been through a lot of trouble in Africa,” he said. On the other hand, I congratulate you for your pugnacity. With the number of falls you have had, I would have turned back”.<\/p>\n
We continued the road together until Yaound\u00e9, from where he had to leave on mission.
\nIn the years that followed, we saw each other again and again. Sometimes I would phone him. He would answer me from places that were all the more unlikely: Alaska, just before taking a helicopter flight, or Gabon on the verge of boarding President Bongo’s plane. One day, when he had 5 days free, he paid a guide to take him to see the elephants in the deep jungle in the south-east of Cameroon. On foot of course. The journey, round trip normally took 9 days each way. They did it in 5, by forced march. As he told me: it was physical.<\/p>\n
Then, in December 2014, he went back on the roads, but this time by bicycle. His journey took 2 years and led him to Japan. He tackled alone and by bike the snowy passes culminating at 4800 m. He meditated with monks in monasteries in Nepal and Japan. He was stuck for a few days in the no-man’s-land between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. It should be said that he had presented himself at the customs on August 2… whereas his visa only started on August 5.
\nThen in December 2016, he came back. At the age of 45, he decided to take the nursing exam, which he passed brilliantly a few months later. Then, as he had time, he went back on the roads by bicycle to do the tour of France. Two days ago he and I had a virtual aperitif. He will officially get his nursing diploma in a few months. In the meantime, he’s part of the personnel requisitioned to fight the Covid. Every day, he’s on the front lines. Discreetly… as usual.<\/p>\n
That’s who Jerome is. A buddy, an unusual guy, an example.
\nWell, I think he’s gonna kill me by reading this post. He doesn’t like to be talked about.
\nForgive me<\/p>\n