The pilot of good and evil

But… why would you do that? Building your own aeroplane is one thing, but why would you want to fly it to Africa? In a video interview with Hollandse Meesters, he explains: “Conijn wants his work to carve out the space to do things that many would say are impossible or irresponsible. He usually pushes that boundary by creating something that is uncertain from the outset; he says he loves the thrill of whether he will succeed or not.” That sounds familiar to us: when someone says it can’t be done, the determination to prove them wrong only grows stronger. In his book, Conijn explains in fairly simple terms what it takes to build and fly an aeroplane, but the bulk of the book is about the journey he made with his OK-NUL 43. A funny detail: because friends and family were, not unreasonably, afraid that he would crash, he never actually told them he secretly planned to fly all the way to Kenya! Joost follows a route that no one has ever flown before – truly off the beaten track. The back cover puts it well: “He flew from Europe over Africa, visiting the most remote areas of the jungle. He landed on ragged strips of asphalt and was given food and a place to sleep by the astonished people for whom he had simply fallen from the sky.”

Before setting off, Conijn had agreed to write a few pieces about his journey for NRC Handelsblad, but that quickly fell apart. Not because the little aeroplane couldn’t handle the trip, but because the writer ended up in jail twice – once in the Central African Republic and once in Uganda – and it’s rather difficult to write from a prison cell. Still, he did manage to complete his final article for the newspaper, and one particularly amusing passage made it into the book. This is what he wrote about the moment he accidentally landed in a Ugandan army camp:

“‘I can see from your face that you’re scared,’ says the controller. ‘But the commander is relentless; you have to take off again.’ I sit in the shade of the wing. The aeroplane stands beside the runway, the only strip of bare red earth in the middle of thousands of kilometres of jungle. Towering clouds loom over the tropical forest. The soldiers, shirtless and in slippers, emerge from the forest and gather around my plane, staring in astonishment.”

Then, later in the story, he meets a more helpful soldier. “A soldier gives me water and a plate of food – beans and meat. He sits down next to me. ‘Just wait patiently,’ he says. ‘Orders come from the top down here. The weather is unpredictable. A black wall can suddenly appear. You can land a helicopter. We take off every ten minutes to move to a different spot, keeping out of the rebels’ hands until the front shifts. With a plane, you’re done for.’”

Of course, we’re not going to spoil whether or how Conijn got out of that camp – for that, you’ll have to read the book or his articles on NRC’s website. The book is a fantastic read, like a real-life Tintin adventure. Het Financiële Dagblad sums it up as follows: “This Amsterdam-based artist built his own aeroplane from aluminium and wood, earned his licence in what was then Czechoslovakia, and flew over Africa. He wrote an account of this mad journey, undertaken in 2010: Pilot of Good and Evil. But it’s more than just a travel diary. It’s a guide to chasing dreams and conquering fears. A strange bird who also happens to write brilliantly.” Hard to argue with that, isn’t it?

The book is not easy to find, as it’s no longer in print. However, you can email the author (he still has a few copies left), or you can find second-hand copies on boekwinkeltjes.nl and bol.com. Prefer an eBook version? That’s still available for purchase.

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