the Not Johnny Clegg Story of Travel In Africa
It’s August ‘97 in Joburg, and the phone rings in my office with a hysterical voice on the other end shouting, “So you’re the one going to Cameroon with me? What do you know about it? You know you can’t eat the fruit and vegetables, or drink tap water? In fact, you can’t eat anything but chicken there. And they’re corrupt, hey – worst bladdy Africans I’ve ever met!”
My boss popped her head round the corner and smiled. “You’ve met Rob*, I see.” After a few more shouty reasons why I should never ‘set foot in Africa’ despite living in it, I got off the call and was told I would be doing my first trip into another African country. Cameroon! I was stunned and delighted. Other than an Eric Clapton concert in Swaziland (now Eswatini by royal decree), I’d never set foot outside of South Africa. Eswatini is very similar to the eastern parts of South Africa, culturally, scenically and otherwise, so it wasn’t a new experience for me really. Pedants sharpen your pitchforks.
I prepared quickly over the next few days, including being introduced to our host on a ten-day trip to introduce South Africa to the Cameroonian business community. It was in the first flush of South Africa’s reintegration into Africa after apartheid – heady days, filled with promise and excitement. Eric, our Cameroonian host was positioning Cameroon as the gateway for Saffer business into the Central African region, and naturally himself as the gateway to trade. I worked for our trade promotion agency in those days, fresh out of unemployment following a long stint tutoring at uni here. They really shot for the stars.
We gathered at the airport the next Sunday morning to fly to Douala, the commercial capital and main port of Cameroon and then get a connecting flight to Yaoundé, the political capital, for the start of the first conference on the Monday morning. I was in the first row of non-smoking on Air Cameroon. The Cameroon boxing team took up a few rows in front of me and were happily puffing on cigars before we’d taken off, posing with their trophies from the African championships. I declined asking them to stop.
Speaking of stops, it wasn’t a direct flight – we were landing in Harare, Zimbabwe first and then Kinshasa, in what was still Mabuto’s Zaire for a few more weeks, before reaching Douala. Rob was mercifully seated a few rows away form me and the plane was full, so no listening to him on route. We took off with little fanfare and the hostess arrived with a lovely selection of ice-cold beer – I settled on a 33 Export and she gave me three with a smile. That should do me for the trip I happily thought, waving away plumes of cheap cigar smoke.
Just over an hour later we began our descent into Harare airport through a monumental thunderstorm. I’ve seldom experienced anything like that since, with the 737 being flung about like a ragdoll by an African elephant – I honestly have no idea how the plane didn’t disintegrate. Suddenly we lurched out of the storm and careened towards the landing strip with a thump and a skid and shuddered along narrowly missing a C-130 transport plane that was on the tarmac.
We taxied up close to the terminal building in the little airport with the Congolese and Cameroonians singing and praising the pilot, the Zimbabweans happy to be getting off and the Saffers wondering what the hell they were getting themselves into. I looked across to the waiting families, prevented from wandering over to us by a single policeman and a one-foot fence. Typical scene I would learn, of white farmers in their blue shorts and t-shirts and black businessmen dressed in suits. That was before the land invasions.
A couple of ours later we were back in the air, headed for Kinshasa, a city as fabled as it is cursed and with the double curse in those days of Mabuto’s evil reign. Not much to see out the window when you fly over the tropics other than cloud and the occasional glimpse of forest below, so I settled into another three beers and lunch thinking that this travel malarkey was alright. A bit of a scare, sure, but lots of beer, entertaining passengers and no Rob near me.
A little later, as I started to doze off, the captain announced that we were descending to Njili International Airport in Kinshasa. We should not worry about the sharp, corkscrew nature of it, it was simply a precautionary measure as the rebels were apparently closing on Kinshasa fast and were known to take the odd pop at planes (may be paraphrasing that a bit). Hmm. Shit just got a bit real. We banked sharply and the delightful Ghanaian woman next to me took my mind off things by remarking that she didn’t realise Kinshasa was a coastal city (it isn’t). Then I saw it – the massive expanse of the Congo River, some 16km across at its widest, where we were coming in from. Magnificent!
I was glued to watching the river and tropical trees lining the river and airport as we landed, bumpily again, but possibly just avoiding potholes on the runway. Nothing, at all, ever, was built or maintained by the Mabuto regime in his decades of power, other than his bizarre jungle villas and the roads leading to them. We taxied to the arrivals and it was only then that I realised that other than a military plane, ours was the only one on the tarmac. It was eerily quiet, to begin with. Sitting next to the military aircraft that was being unloaded, we noticed that all the whisky crates had the ‘This Side Up’ arrows pointing firmly down, and they weren’t being handled with a great deal of care. Maybe Mabuto lost power through a lack of whisky? A commotion followed with military police storming the plane and dragging a guy off shouting in French as he protested his innocence. Stupid bugger had taken pictures of the aircraft and whisky and was arrested for being a spy.
We sat in the oppressive heat in silence for hour after hour. No inflight entertainment systems, no aircon. Nothing. Just the gentle click and fizz of beer cans opening. Then the distant sound of gunfire, followed by a more immediate sound of artillery. The smiling air hostess appeared again to assure us that we were safe. “The captain has established it is the war in other Congo you can hear and they very, very seldom fire shells across the river,” she beamed. Cue more beer. ‘Other Congo’ or Congo-Brazzaville is on the other side of the river, with Kinshasa and Brazzaville just 3km apart at their closest.
A sheepish Saffer (who else) got back on the plane after negotiating his release for being a spy and we were off again to much relief as we corkscrewed our way back into the air. We’d survived nearly hitting another plane in Harare and being caught in or near enough to a war in the Congo, maybe both of them. Surely we were home and dry! Surely? Well that’s a story for another time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a beer to crack.
*We’ll call him Rob for his own sanity and sanctity.
As relived by Deebee7
Onna telly this week
Friday 23rd April
| Stormers v Sharks | 18:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Bristol v Exeter | 19:45 | BT Sport1 |
| Ulster v Connacht | 20:15 | Premier Sports 2 |
| Edinburgh v Zebre | 20:15 | Premier Sports 1 |
Saturday 24th April
| Italy v Ireland (women) | 12:00 | BBC iPlayer/Red Button |
| London Irish v Harlequins | 12:30 | Channel 5 / BT Sport 2 |
| Treviso v Glasgow | 13:00 | Premier Sports 2 |
| England v France (women) | 14:00 | BBC2 |
| Leicester v Northampton | 15:00 | BT Sport 2 |
| Gloucester v Newcastle | 15:00 | BT Sport Extra |
| Worcester v Sale | 15:00 | BT Sport Extra |
| Bulls v Lions | 15:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Scotland v Wales (women) | 17:00 | BBC Scotland / Red Button / iPlayer |
| Ospreys v Cardiff | 17:15 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Leinster v Munster | 19:35 | Premier Sports 1 |
Sunday 25th April
| Dragons v Scarlets | 13:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Wasps v Bath | 15:00 | BT Sport 1 |
Ovally Balls 
Munster getting a lot joy at the breakdown
LikeLike
Blue meanies are going down
LikeLike
@Flair – never been to North Africa (the Med countries) but had the pleasure of spending a week in Senegal a few years ago. Loved it and would go back in a flash. Daytime flight from Dakar to Paris was stunning too, seeing the Sahara from above with the wonderful variety of dunes and rock formations.
LikeLike
Went several times to Morocco (splendid), Tunisia, Egypt mostly for work but also on vacation with local friends.
Wouldn’t go now. As a westerner, and a Frenchman on top of that, I don’t feel welcome there anymore. It’s a shame, as most people are friendly and those countries are so close. But religious fanatics rule too many minds for my liking.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Saracens select all internationals for game against Ealing. It would be crazy if they don’t win.
LikeLike
I know. But I’d laugh my head off if they didn’t.
LikeLiked by 4 people
I finally got a moment to read the atl.
Great stuff DeeBee, as ever. I really enjoyed reading that.
33 Export was my favourite beer when I lived in France, we used to have it on tap in our local as well as the bottled stuff from the supermarket.
Sipping an ice cold beer after work in a tiny bar in a one horse village in the Pyrenees doesn’t expose the drinker to quite the same degree of jeopardy as that aircraft.
LikeLiked by 1 person
sarries being boring: 20 – 6 so far
LikeLike
Thanks Ticht, the story is far from over either!
LikeLike
romance is over…………….41 – 13 now
LikeLike
final 48 – 20
LikeLike
Well that should be enough to get all the Sarries players on to the Lions plane.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Wish I’d watched Leinster v Munster now – didn’t bother as I didn’t want to see another Blue Meanie bloodbath!
LikeLike
Just watched it now, thaum. Very callow Leinster team – Hawkshaw, who I like, came on early for Harry Byrne so that was Leinster really testing their depth at half back – and Munster won the gainline battle as they say. Young Baird’s a good second row but played out of position at 6 and not too much in the game. Stander was fantastic, Beirne his usual. Carbery coming back into it.
At the end of the first half Stephen Archer got carded for some old-fashioned rucking 5 metres out with Munster on a penalty advantage so could have been worse for Leinster.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Didn’t catch much of the rugby – 1st half of Ulster vs Connacht (had to join a club meeting on “Return to Rugby” – we can start training again for youth and minis as of today) and last 10 of Munster vs Leinster – it was a good weekend so we headed off to the beaches. Caught highlights of Ireland vs Italy and second half of England vs France.
Connacht were lively – as I’ve mentioned before they bring their ‘A’ game to interprovincials. I’m a big fan of Blade (Connacht #9) – brings the same “hurry up” attitude that you see w/ Casey.
Munster – good to win and not get bullied (like in the PR014 final) but pinch of salt as it wasn’t the Leinster 1st XV.
LikeLike
Pfft. Excuses. Faded glory!
LikeLike
Trisk – yes, Blade is very good. The bastard.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sexton may be out against La Rochelle so they might have to rely on an 80-minute game from Ross Byrne. O’Loughlin was pretty good v Exeter but had a bit of a shocker at 12 on Saturday. However, Ringrose was back and Henshaw’s been one of the best backs in Europe this year. The pack’ll be completely changed as well.
Not faded yet but I’d reckon a tough game in France on the weekend.
LikeLike
Spoken like a true Dub.
LikeLike
*Annoying pedant alert*
Well that should be enough to get all the Sarries players on to the Lions plane.
Pretty sure Vincent Koch will take another plane if he goes.
*Annoying pedant alert over*
LikeLike
Mildly annoying I’ll grant you.
LikeLike
Fanx
LikeLike
I would hope that the Lions find Vincent Koch much more than mildly annoying. But he’ll be behind Malherbe and Trevor Nyakane for the tighthead slot so may not get a match at all.
LikeLike
Am living in the belly of the beat, Chimpie, but no way am I a Leinster fan. And as for the Dubs, different sport and not in a million years.
LikeLike
Just got around to reading the ATL… great stuff, Deebee!
LikeLike
The rise of Dublin (gaelic) football is an interesting case study. Dublin was really always a soccer city (still is really). Middle classes played rugby and GAA was for “culchies” generally. Although, traditionally the 2nd most successful county – they were never the sum of their parts and the rest of the country took great pleasure in seeing Dublin lose to various oppositions (think of Manchester United losing to – well anyone really).
Soccer had always been there – that horse had long bolted – but the emergence of professional rugby (union – league had never taken root ..although in many ways Dublin is much more like Manchester, Leeds than say a small European capital) spooked the GAA (rugby has always been regarded as more of a rival than soccer). So vast quantities of money were plunged into development in Dublin – coaches, pitches etc – ratio of players to coaches in Dublin are much lower than anywhere else.
End result – Dublin have won last 6 championships (previous record was 4-in-a-row) – and the churn in their squad has been quite high – the number of players who were on the 6th winning team who weren’t in earlier squads is remarkably high. Looks like GAA have created a juggernaut – that is sapping interest in their main sport (and main money maker) .
LikeLiked by 2 people
“Lockdown cheating bastards” my Cork family would call them.
LikeLike
Interesting long read inna graun.
LikeLike
Sorry, I couldn’t help myself from typing that.
LikeLike
You’d only think that if you’re a determinist
LikeLike
Yoann Huget likely to retire after picking up a nasty injury at the weekend. Thanks for the memories, YH:
LikeLike
A pfft to the determinists.
Free will is probably more of an illusion than we think however I’m hanging on to my appearance of choice of whether I pee in the garden or expend the effort to go all the way into the house to the toilet.
LikeLike
Am watching a schools rugby tournament from South Africa. In the morning it’s 2nd team games and this afternoon the 1sts get a run out. Currently it’s Stellenberg High from the Western Cape v Monnas 2nds from Krugersdorp near Joburg. A lad has just kicked a 57-metre penalty. In a second team game.
LikeLike
TomP, not sure if you picked up that article about a Saffer trying out in NFL. He’s apparently knocking them over from 60+ metres on a regular basis. 67 or 68m was mentioned I think.
LikeLike
@craigs
It’s this kind of ultracertainty bollox that proves the speaker doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. The laws of physics don’t rule free will out. What the laws of physics say is there is a limit to what we can know about something at any given moment, which makes it limited in its scope for understanding much else. That’s why it’s an uncertainty principle.
LikeLike
I’ve just been made aware of an Aberdeen band called Depeche Choad. I didn’t know what choad was until now.
Anyway, they wrote a tribute song to an Aberdeen FC player, Nigel Pepper. I’ll let Wiki take over the story;
“On 26 November 1998 Pepper moved to Aberdeen for a fee of £300,000.[4] He did not enjoy the best of starts being sent off on his debut six minutes after coming on as a substitute. Following his return from suspension again having come on as a substitute it took just 17 seconds before he was sent off again.”
The tribute song is similarly short
LikeLiked by 1 person
Until he left Nigel Pepper was pretty much York City’s best player when I used to go to watch them. I think I went twenty times before I saw them win. All home games.
LikeLike
PRL have completed their shakedown
‘It is a significant boost for Gatland and the Lions, who are thought to have offered around £45,000 per player in compensation to the clubs. Premiership Rugby has insisted the negotiations were “never just about money”’
Mm-hmm.
LikeLike
Well I now know what a choad is. Today hasn’t been completely wasted.
LikeLike
Chimpie/OT – I find the stuff about thoughts and choices arising before we are aware of them interesting and neurology is the crux of the deterministic argument as I see it. See also, the account of Charles Whitman and his tumor knowing that his impulses were wrong but not being able to do anything about them (and by extension our neurology).
We’ll probably find that both sides are wrong about this anyway given that they can’t seem to agree on the definition.
I find it an interesting discussion anyway; Dennett and Harris had a good ol public argument about it.
LikeLike
Chimpie pissing on his Melbury just now was set in motion during the big bang.
LikeLike
He (Pepper) always put in a decent shift, mainly passed to players on his own team, had a strong shot and took penalties and free kicks. He wasn’t especially dirty when he played for York and neither were the team, they were OK on the odd occasions they managed to get the ball down and play, but mainly got bullied as most teams had stronger and faster players. I can only think of another three or four players they had who were any good at that level though which is probably why they often ended up playing long-ball themselves despite not being remotely equipped for it. They’ve been worse ever since and are now in National League North which is sixth tier and is a pretty pathetic place to be for a city of this size. It got too expensive for the quality of ‘entertainment’ on offer.
LikeLike
Firstly I wouldn’t piss on my melbury when there’s grass and flowerbeds around
Secondly I went in the house as mrs Chimpie returned and she objects if I do daylight urination in the garden.
This obviously means I have no free will, whether this was set in motion during the big band or more recent events I’ll leave for enquiring minds to consider.
LikeLike
It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.
LikeLiked by 4 people
FFS
LikeLike
@Chimpie – I’d blame TomP, he’s living in the belly of the beat.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Wise words
*Blames TomP*
LikeLike
But can we really blame TomP if he has no free will? Whatta conundrum.
LikeLike
I’m on the side of free will being a thing. Otherwise how can I blame Chris Ashton for the state of the world.
LikeLike
I had hoped Chimpie and TomP might record a song called Belly of the Beat. Sadly (and unsurprisingly I guess) someone’s in there ahead of them though. And happily enough given that Mr Musk is such a Notablog favourite it’s the mother of X Æ A-Xii:
LikeLike