Nomad by name and by nature...
Hello everyone – I’ve just added new pages to publish my travel writing. You can find it here: Nomad Si’s travel tales
My first story – Smuggle Na Bad Biznes – chronicles a trans-Saharan journey – trading Mercedes Cars – from Maastricht in the Netherlands via Nigeria to Maroua in Cameroon with Graham in 1981. see below (Gray’s Eulogy)
Graham Scott Livesey 21 June 1949 – 12 October 2023
It’s hard to believe that the last time I posted here was 13th Nov 2021 when Benj had passed. There’s a lot of water under the bridge since then that’s kept me from writing, but I’m now back in a space where I’m ready to get back into it. Graham, one of my closest and oldest friends, who succumbed to cancer and chose an assisted death – legal in the Netherlands where he lived – and Benj were best friends. I’ve been meaning to post this since the funeral but it’s taken me awhile to get my head around it – emotionally and otherwise. So here now is my eulogy, which I gave at his funeral.
Graham and I have been friends for the last 50 years. There are so many stories to tell that it’s hard to know where to start. So I’ll start at the beginning.
If we had been normal people, it’s unlikely we would ever have met, let alone become close friends. But we are travellers, nomads, adventurers and we met on the road. Let me take you to City Park Nairobi, Kenya in early 1973, a colonial municipal park with a small campsite, a hub for overlanders in East Africa. I turned up there after a few months of travel from Cairo, through Egypt, Sudan and Ethiopia and into Kenya. Some Americans on hearing that I was a Brit. Said – with raised eyebrows – “Oh, there’s a bunch of Brits over there!” – as though they were talking about another species. They were pointing to a long high green tarpaulin shelter rigged at the back of an old Bedford army lorry. I walked over to find 10 likely lads from Essex inside the tarp, and was greeted with: “Ello mate fancy a Chillum?” and a proferred Indian hash pipe full of Kenyan weed. “There’s porridge and tinned peaches too if you’re hungry? It’s all we have left.” It was about eight o’clock in the morning! That was my introduction to the Harold Hill Mob – Digsy, Paul K, Bernie, Al, others and Graham, even then de facto “driver leader”. Within a week or so Gray and I were sharing tent space, hitchhiking across the Tsavo National Park to Arusha, with Benj, who had just turned up from England, and memorably hiring a Land Rover with six others to witness the total eclipse of the sun at Lake Turkana. During which trip Graham and I were arrested and thrown in jail in Thompson’s Falls, on remand for a night, with 40 other prisoners in the cell. But that’s a story for another time. Suffice it to say we grinned our way through and had “a good titter” as Gray would say. I learned a lot from Graham. Some things I can tell you about, like how to service a car, change the engine on a Peugeot or pull a truck out of the sand in the Sahara with a steel cable. And other things – like how to get two kilos of peaches for the price of one in a French supermarket – that I can’t tell you about on the grounds that I might incriminate myself.
But most of all, Gray taught me that if you approached something with enough audacity and conviction, or “front” as we’d say in London, you could get away with almost anything. And Graham had more front than Sainsbury’s or Albert Hein for you Limburgers. And for the most part, but not always, he did get away with it.
My first trip to Maastricht with him and Benj was a case in point. The three of us had set off from London in a 20 tonne Albion truck of Benj’s, loaded with fridges, sacks of clothes and other “trade goods” covered over with a tarpaulin. At Dover, Gray went in to buy a ticket, came out and drove us into the camper-van queue for the ferry. An official appeared and shouted up at Graham: “Oi mate freight is over there!” pointing at a line of trucks a few 100 metres away. Graham replies, as he hands the man the ticket: “No mate, this is a camper – look at the ticket.” The guy duly inspects the ticket and then looks up at Gray. “Oh yes mate you’re right – OK” shrugs his shoulders and walks away.
That first trip to Maastricht was when I met Nell, Ger, Birget Bart and others. Eventually Graham settled here – firstly in Margratten – as he’d discovered Limburg and its borders was a great place to buy trucks. Later when I was in America in ‘84, I got a birth card when Masha came along and he was with Chantal. Now as of just a few weeks ago, his wife – What took you so long Graham, really?
We had so many adventures together over the years and you will see some clips from the film of our ‘82/’83 Sahara trip “The Iron Camel” in a little while.
When Judy and I got together and set off for a summer in France in 1990 Graham invited us to Montalivet, and from then on our growing families became truly entwined, Weits and Cyrille and your kids, then our Alex, Jesse, Justin, and your Jessie, summer after summer in Montalivet. The Heek and then Termaar. Chantal; Gray found a gem in you and your wonderful family. All you Rientjens – you’re a fabulous family – loving and supporting – it’s a pleasure and a privilege to know you.
Anyone who knew Graham well will know that he wasn’t always sweetness, light and laughter – he could be stubborn at times – to say the least. There was only one way of doing things – Graham’s way, and inevitably we bumped heads occasionally – but not for long. That said, he had a huge generosity of spirit, he was immensely loyal to his friends, and he supported and took pride in the efforts of others, especially his family and close friends and was always telling us about the achievements of others, without rancour or envy.
Although he may have doubted it towards the end, while he held on with great strength to prepare for his final journey, he did well in life and with Chantal has left solid foundations on which his children and grandkids can continue to build.
Graham you are my big brother and I will miss you, so farewell my friend until we meet again somewhere over the rainbow.
The Iron Camel is the film of one of our journeys together – with our late friend Benj – in December and January 1982-3 when we drove from Maastricht in the Netherlands to Maroua in Northern Cameroun. Our convoy consisted of 6 trucks, 3 cars, 3 mopeds and a truck engine or two – with only 3 drivers!
Postscript
The image above is the memorial card handed out at Graham’s funeral by his family. Part of his legacy is that he passed his sense of humour to his children – and this card is a typical example. Justin who edited the card – asked me “Si do you know what Gray’s doing in that pic?” Having travelled with him across the desert I had a fair idea and guessed correctly and we giggled as Justin sent me the original photo from which the detail is cropped…
So when our brother Graham called today to tell me you had left us last night – I said “oh hello Benj” it’s as if I knew – but Graham said you won’t be talking to Benj anymore. I will miss you mate, it’s been a long time we’ve been friends. We’ve shared many an adventure and many a grin together. As the tears flowed today, I’ve remembered those times of joy, as we’ve talked about so often over the last few years. We shared more than most can ever hope to. If we’d been ordinary people we would never have met – we’d have remained divided by class, upbringing and geography – you from “Harold Hill” and me from “Hampstead Garden Suburb” an unlikely mix you might have thought. Yet, that said, we did meet some 47 years ago in City Park Nairobi, and we’ve been friends ever since.
So what memories come to mind today? Hitchhiking to Arusha in Tanzania and partying “On the Road” style in a hotel bar with three very hospitable local girls. You selling me my first proper car – an Austin A40 – for £30 – which was great until I tickled it into the back of another car outside the Hammersmith Odeon at a Tina Turner concert, and the headlight fell out – nothing that couldn’t be sorted with a bit of gaffer tape!
Then in 1983 – under the grand banner of GSL Overland – Graham, you and me – with Jane riding shotgun – drove 5 trucks, 3 cars, and 3 mopeds from Maastricht to Maroua in Northern Cameroon. We survived: desert break downs, customs arrest in Nigeria, etc. etc… and we grinned through it all.
There were parties and trips and deals after that – I remember you turning up, quite late, to a party in Milton Keynes, saying you’d broken down on the way and had to “borrow” a car – I asked you to park it in the next street please Benj! I could go on – and I will as I remember you my brother over the weeks, months and years to come “Inshallah” – fuck we’re getting old… though we still feel 2o something……
It’s been an age since I posted anything, but the start of November finds us on the good barge Beatrix overwintering in Castelnaudary on the Canal du Midi. For anyone that has followed this blog to date.. we were last seen locked down in La Croix sur Meuse sometime last winter. There have been many meals since then, but barging – navigating south – since March kept me busy and away from the key board. Maybe I’ll post some of it maybe not. Be that as it may, I want to get back to posting some of my favourite recipes – if that’s not too grand a word. I have long maintained that the secret to good home cooking is learning the basics of a particular style – be it Indian, Italian, Thai or whatever and then adapting it to your own taste, and whatever ingredients you can find locally and have to hand.
I was first introduced to Indonesian cuisine by Dutch friends – the Smits / Uitvlugts. BBQ’d satés with peanut sauce, nasi and bami goreng ( fried rice / noodles) sambals – batjek, brandal etc… and although I have never been to Indonesia (surely a big miss? Ed.) what I learnt from my friends Olga and Martin has stayed with me. Whenever, we met up over several decades we would cook and eat together – that’s just what our families do. I remember discussing nasi goreng with (the now late – RIP) Martin one day – “It’s just great left over cuisine. It’s what you do with left over rice and whatever else.” Of course left over cuisine is not unique to the Indonesian kitchen – but it’s more than just heating up yesterday’s left over meal. It’s about assessing what you have left over and transforming it into a new and delicious dish – this is a skill in it’s own right – something that some of our great chefs think about and practise. I always cook more rice than can be eaten at one meal. Why? Because I love my fried rice / nasi goreng and you cannot make it with fresh cooked rice – it has to have been cooled overnight.
So tonight I had the last of a batch of coconut rice, which I’d made with a batch of Black-eyed peas – see: https://nomadsi.net/2021/01/05/black-eye-beans/ – I also had: half a savoy cabbage, some carrots, onions and chili, ginger and garlic – of course. So at the butcher’s I bought a pork spare rib chop – échine de porc – I like these for stir fries, because they have a bit of fat in them which makes them juicy and tender, although diced shoulder will also do nicely. What you see above was the end result – delicious though I say it myself – and this is how it’s done.
Lilly Wexper’s Famous Cheesecake
My first proper girlfriend Jill’s mum Lil made the best cheesecake I have ever eaten – real London Jewish cheesecake – not the ersatz American cream cheesecake that seems ubiquitous today. Mind you, having said that, I do love a good Philadelphia cream cheesecake – like my mum made and my sister Tanya still makes today – but that’s an altogether different animal. Lil’s cheesecake was famous, particularly with our group of friends, and as a good Jewish mum she delighted in plying us teenagers with food. Lil and Jill’s dad Dave were amongst the most welcoming and tolerant of parents too, so we always liked going round to Jill’s.
We are still in touch some fifty years later – that’s half a century already and hard to believe – and met recently online with a group of friends from the same era. A subsequent conversation about the meaning of Jewish food (prompted by Jay Rayner’s piece on Claudia Rosen – see link below) reminded me of Lil’s cheesecake and Jill sent me the recipe – pictured above. It’s the first bit of baking I’ve done in I don’t know how long, being more of a savoury cook myself, but it was a joy to make and it tastes great. So thank you Jill, and here’s to you Lil, baking this brought back a host of great memories.
Ingredients
– 10/200g finger Madeleines or 5 trifle sponges or 8 digestives & 60g butter
– 500g tub of Fromage Blanc / Curd Cheese
– 125g sugar
– 4 Eggs
– 15g self-raising flour
– 125g pot of yogurt or sour cream
– squeeze of lemon.
Method
Butter the inside of a 20cm spring clip cake tin.
Press madeleines into the base of the tin. (if using biscuits, crush them finely, melt the butter with the crumbs, press into the base of tin and chill)
Beat the sugar into the cheese, and beat in the egg yolks one at a time.
Add flour, then yogurt and squeeze of lemon.
Whip the egg whites until stiff and fold into the cheese mixture.
Pour into cake tin and spread level
Bake in the centre of a pre-heated oven at gas mark 3 / 150C for 1 hour, then turn off the oven and leave to cool for 15 minutes.
Run a knife around the side to loosen before removing from tin.
This is a video shot and edited by our neighbour, in Le Port de Lacroix sur Meuse, Arunas Damkus – a former TV Cameraman and Producer – who has cruised here all the way from Vilnius in Lithuania on his Solar Powered Boat – Suktinis.
(I’m speaking French at Arunas’s request because it’s our only even vaguely common language!)
My audio homage to the late great Keith Floyd – who transformed food TV forever.
To prepare this dish you will need:
Cooking time:
Best cooked in a cast iron casserole
3-4 hours in a slow oven or on slow burner
( On Barge Beatrix we cook on top of the Kabola heating stove )
Serve with:
Creamy mashed potatoes and steamed buttered spinach
This is my first attempt at a cookery podcast, so definitely work in progress, but something that I hope might grow and improve with time. In putting this together I’ve had to relearn audio editing with Audition, something I used to do reasonably well, but which I haven’t done for over ten years – software getting more powerful only seems to make it more complex, unless you have been growing with it – anyway back to the food.
This is one of my favourite dishes, it’s a West African staple that I first encountered having breakfast on the “waterside” in Lagos Nigeria in 1974 – eaten with fried plantain – “dodo” and often with a sprinkling of “gari” cassava meal on top. And it’s my take on it and not meant to be a definitive recipe. My cooking has been influenced by the food that I have eaten and enjoyed in a lifetime of travelling, and thus by many cultures and by many people. Mostly, I try to recreate foods that I like, and that often leads to new fusions – including pairings and combinations of flavours, and dishes, from different countries and continents. If anyone thinks that weird, and in any way inappropriate, I would remind you that some of the staples of African, European and Asian cooking, such as tomatoes, chilis, maize, cassava and potatoes, for instance, originate from the Americas and were unknown in the “Old World” before the 15th Century. But I digress…
Cooking time – 2.5 to 3 hours in a casserole, or 1 to 1.5 hrs in a pressure cooker. That’s it, now follow the podcast, and when it’s done – it should be a nice creamy consistency, with the beans soft and unctuous – serve with rice, bread, fried plantains or a bit of whatever you fancy. Enjoy.
To prepare this dish you will need:
Reference: If you enjoy this food and would like to know a bit more about African food history, culture and ecology check out this book that I refer to in the audio: Seven Grains of Paradise: A Culinary Journey in Africa – by Joan Baxter (Paperback – Illustrated, May 11, 2017)
Music credit: http://Nameless Dancers – Hot Funky Body – Free Music Archive
“..the the EU has said it will not do a deal “at any price”, and Mr Johnson has said the UK will prosper either way.“
Who’d have thought it would come to this? As I listen to the news lately – whether about Covid-19, Trump and the madness that is much of our world today but particularly about sleepwalking into no deal and the disaster that is Brexit – the line “Drift gently into mental illness.” resonates. For me Brexit is existential damage. It has already changed the way I feel about my identity, ethnicity and my fellow country-people, in particular the English (see Udat? to be continued). On that level life has been hard since the referendum, and although I’m taking steps to mitigate the worst effects – freedom of movement etc. – watching the deceit, lies and newspeak that continues to seep from the lips of our PM and his trusty zealots is angst making in the extreme. All that said, I’m glad that I looked up Mirror in the Bathroom, it’s a fabulous track and listening brings back memories of lost, more blissful times. Enjoy!
Nomad Si 