With no plans, I set off from John O’Groats to travel down south to Dover. Friends and family didn’t think I’d last a mile
S
ince coming to England from Ethiopia eight years ago, I’ve lost parts of my cultural identity. I was stuck in a monotonous, isolated routine studying for a biochemistry degree at Imperial College London, without the family-centred lifestyle I was used to. Back in Ethiopia, I’d be surrounded by my aunt, grandparents, friends.
So this year, I took 12 months out and moved to my uncle’s house in Leeds. The change helped me try new things, like cycling: as a child, I had never ridden a bike. I bought one in a charity shop. My friends told me that it was made for a 10-year-old and donated an adult-sized bike to me.
The bike had spent two years in my friend’s garden, so it was in bad shape. I spent a month taking it to a repair shop. I also joined a project called the Hackspace – it’s a community-run workshop for makers – and built a wooden bicycle. It’s mostly made of recycled materials: I used an old flip-flop for the brake. The Hackspace’s director, Mark, suggested I go to John o’Groats and cycle all the way down to the south. At first, I thought that was ridiculous, but then reconsidered it: I wanted to do something new.
