WITHComing to England from Ethiopia eight years ago, I lost part of my cultural identity. I was stuck in a monotonous, isolated routine studying biochemistry at Imperial College London, without the family lifestyle I was accustomed to. Back in Ethiopia, I was surrounded by my aunt, grandparents, and friends.
So this year I took 12 months off and moved into my uncle's house in Leeds. This change helped me try new things, like cycling: I never rode a bike as a child. I bought one from a charity shop. My friends told me it was made for a 10 year old and gave me an adult size bike.
The bike had been sitting in my friend's garden for two years, so it was in poor condition. I took it to a repair shop for a month. I also joined a project called Hackspace – a community workshop for makers – and built a wooden bicycle. It's mostly made from recycled materials: I used an old flip-flop as a brake. Hackspace Director Mark suggested I go to John o' Groats and cycle all the way south. At first I thought it was funny, but then I reconsidered: I wanted to do something new.
I didn't plan any logistics, hoping to figure things out as I went along. My friends and family didn't think I would last a mile. Perhaps they were right: the first three nights were terrible. I didn't buy a tent to sleep in; just a tarp to cover yourself with. I took light luggage with me, relying only on one cotton shirt. The wind and rain were strong.
I also didn't bring enough food with me, and I had to ask people for help – it was difficult to find a store in these remote places, and I had little money. These wonderful people were often elderly and isolated, but eager to help. This inspired me to use my trip to raise funds for Age UK And MacedoniaEthiopian charity for vulnerable people.
During the two and a half months that I was on the road, I was prepared for the worst. But people offered me their friendship. The DJ found my videos on TikTok and sent me money for a hotel stay. After I finally bought a tent, people allowed me to pitch tents in their gardens. I was invited to stay in houses, garages, village halls and even barns. In the Scottish village of Tomatin, I met construction workers who offered me a place to stay for the night, and in return I helped them. I spent the next day laying bricks, making friends with whom I still keep in touch.
The wooden bike caused a stir wherever I went. The locals would go crazy about this. I told them my story, they gathered their friends and family to take pictures and donated to my fundraiser.
It wasn't easy on the bike. During Storm Floris I was passing through Dalwhinnie, another Scottish village, and was desperate for shelter. Then the nicest couple invited me in, gave me a hot meal, took me to the community room, and set up an air mattress for me.
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I was afraid my bike would fall apart when I got to England. But they always offered me help. When my chain broke near Newcastle, several cyclists helped me hitchhike to a shop who then repaired it for free. A man from the village of Haines in Bedfordshire replaced my front wheel with one from his daughter's bike and then let me sleep in his van.
I wondered if I would experience racism. I had some difficult encounters, but hopefully I changed their minds. I also met Ethiopians in Britain who followed my progress on social media. Whenever I came to a city with a significant Ethiopian population, they offered to host me.
The last few days have been difficult. I was meeting my friends in London and it was difficult to leave. But again, people helped. A lady from Faversham received me at her home. We watched Avatar together. Later, an Ethiopian who saw my TikToks booked me a hotel room in Canterbury.
The next day I arrived in Dover. A group of 10 Ethiopians came from London to meet me, with food, music and a trophy: a small bicycle with my name on it. My journey has come to an end.
I used to feel a lack of community in my life: this adventure made the world a bigger place. The community helped me complete my journey. Not the money or my resilience, just the kindness of strangers.
As told to Sumaiya Motare
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