The men who walked on the moon

 By Tony Mochama

Perhaps inspired by astronauts, Michael Jackson popularised the dance move ‘moonwalk’. And in the wake of his recent death, a group of fans from around the world are attempting, through YouTube, to keep an eternal ‘moonwalk’ going, where one films oneself moonwalking before backsliding the footage to the next fan, ad infinitum.

And then there was the real moonwalk. During the Apollo Programme years (1961-1975), 24 men walked on the moon.

Of all these, my favourite remains Buzz Aldrin, now 79, then 39, the man who stepped onto the moon after Neil Armstrong had made his "one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind," and left an eternal boot print on the lunar surface that, in all probability, will be there forever — of course, the moon has no winds or seas, or living things, to erase footprints on its ‘sands of time’.

Aldrin became my astronaut hero, not for his achievements but for his flaws and his heroism in overcoming them. His grandfather, a manic-depressive, had committed suicide when Aldrin was a child. His melancholic mother, just a year before his moon landing, also killed herself. So when Buzz landed back at the Houston space station from the moon, the first thing he did was hit the booze (Scotch).

And he didn’t stop for the next 20 years, even as he made a reputation as an author and lecturer, until doctors told him his liver would give out if he continued drinking. Buzz gave up alcohol without a fuss, and is still healthy at 79, and still fascinated by the twin topics of rocket propulsion and space exploration.

For the generation born around 1950, and who happened to have TV, the nine Apollo missions to the moon, with a 66 per cent success rate, have never been forgotten. And the men who flew them retain a legendary status far beyond any enjoyed by a living sports star or movie icon today.

It was an historic event, "Like Kennedy’s assassination or Obama’s election," said Charlie Duke, now 74, one of the two dozen men to walk on the moon.

This NASA studio file image, dated May 1, 1969, shows the Apollo 11 crew of U.S. astronauts Neil Armstrong, (L) who was the Mission Commander and the first man to step on the moon, Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin, (R), who was the Lunar Module Pilot, and Michael Collins, (C) who was the Command Module pilot. Apollo 11 was the first manned mission to land on the moon. Photo: Reuters/File

David Scott, another moonwalker and commander of the Apollo 15 mission has confessed: "It was very weird, way back when I was 39, walking on the moon one week, then the following week having a family barbeque in my backyard as everyone said ‘congrats’."

I Should Be Up There

Scott found himself looking at the white orb of the moon as the hotdogs and hamburgers sizzled on the grill, sipped his beer and thought: "What on earth am I doing on this planet? I should be up there."

Another moonwalker James ‘Jim’ Lovell, who uttered the famous words "Houston, we have a problem" was commander of the Apollo 13 mission, which suffered an explosion en route to the moon but was brought back safely to earth by the efforts of the crew and mission control. Now 81, Lovell says coming down from the moon is depressing.

"I have had a good life. After my time as an astronaut, I became a telecommunications executive but nothing is ever as good or exhilarating as being a moonwalker." The former astronaut is now a restaurateur in Illinois, USA, and is a staunch campaigner for missions to Mars. But his lobbying Congress to give the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (Nasa) money for trips to Mars is not going down well in this age of Recession.

"JFK (John F Kennedy) was a dreamer, who dared to dream the impossible. He died five years before he could see us (Americans) win the Space Race (against Russia). But we lived his dream, and man landed on the moon."

Of course it is only this year, 40 years after Apollo 11’s first moon landing, that the lunar limelight has swung back on these brave old men who travelled farther than any other human being ever has.

But even when peripherally forgotten, the 24 who walked the moon (six have since passed away) were not overly philosophical or spiritual type, save one, Edgar Mitchell, now 78, lunar module pilot of Apollo 14, who returned to earth (after finding God on the moon) and opened up The Institute of Noeta Sciences to study consciousness and related paranormal phenomena after trying to teleport messages from the moon to friends and family back home.

Such bizarre things, let alone cosmology didn’t bother other moonwalkers. When Apollo 10’s Gene Cernan, the last man to walk the moon (and author of the memoir The Last Man on the Moon), tried to ask another astronaut John Young of Apollo 16 if he thought the "moon broke off from the earth," after the earth hit its twin planet billions of years ago, Young snapped: "I ain’t a cosmologist." Cernan, afterwards, became a TV chief at ABC.

Young men like Young were more interested in having fun on the moon than intellectualism — whooping, joking, singing, bunny-hopping and driving buggies on the lunar surface, as well as collecting rocks for geological study purposes. One of them, the late Pete Conrad, the third person to walk on the moon, once joked: "My happiest days on earth were when I was on the moon."

Lived In Drift

Afterwards, astronauts like Ken Mattingly of Apollo 13, who almost missed the rocket to the moon after contracting measles, mused: "After the Apollo years, we all lived in drift, like folk who had been to a war and couldn’t readjust fully to the regular world we live in." There was a deep sense of loss after the Apollo goals were achieved, and the astronauts released.

A few of the 24 went into politics, not just to serve but also to get the thrill that only red-hot campaigns can provide. One, Apollo 13’s Jack Swigert, ran and won a seat in Congress, but died of cancer before he could serve. Another, Apollo 17’s Harrison Schmitt, served a term as New Mexico Senator, but in 1982, an opponent ran ads that punned and panned Schmitt: "What on earth has he done for you lately?" and he lost his senate seat.

Others became big business executives, like Apollo 8’s Frank Borman who became chairman of Eastern Airlines. One even became a multi-millionaire defence contractor. This was Apollo 8’s William Anders who had degrees in aerospace and marine studies. But Alan Bean, now 77, the fourth person to walk on the moon, became a poet and painter, and runs a successful gallery in New York City.

Neil Armstrong, the most famous of the 24 for being the first man to step on the moon, became a reclusive lecturer of engineering at the University of Cincinnati, shunning all press interviews, save for July 20 interviews he has granted in 1979, 1984, 1989, 1994, 1999, 2004 and, of course, this year at White House ‘Apollo Dinners’ hosted by presidents Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, GW Bush and Obama respectively.

Last Monday, President Obama paid tribute to Aldrin, Michael Collins and Armstrong, the astronauts of Apollo 11.

My hero Aldrin, whose mother’s maiden name was Marion Moon, once quipped: "After walking the moon, what does a man do for an encore?" The answer, if you are Apollo 10’s Commander Tom Stafford, is you join the Air Force, rise to the rank of General, retire — and on the very week the whole world is honouring you, you come to Kenya for a safari holiday. Yes, as you read this, this man who has flown to the moon has jetted into our country.