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 
Looks to me like said belly is in Switzerland or similar rather than in Dublin though I could be wrong.
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I listened to that song all the way through and I already can’t remember how it went.
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I’m wasting time now and it’s all Ticht’s fault for Nigel Pepper.
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Some nice sheep in that video.
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I’m glad I looked up ‘choad’ on my own computer and not a work one.
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Chimpie – re the PRL money grabbing, didn’t the Lions extend their schedule or summat?
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There are multiple accepted definitions of the word choad, such is the richness of the English language.
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Chocolat choad, Choad of Choad Hall, choad in the hole, all sorts.
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Past tense of chide of course.
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Polysemy is a marvellous thing.
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Bit of a whiff of antiphrasis there.
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https://www.fnlondon.com/articles/disgraced-coutts-financier-goes-into-business-with-prince-andrew-20210427
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But can we really blame TomP if he has no free will?
Yes. He threw away his free will when he genuflected before Loftus Versfeld.
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Some nice sheep in that video.
Welsh pervert.
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Welsh pervert
From the blog silence I guess we can take it that no one disagrees.
I’m planning to see Dan Leo’s flim over the weekend if I can get time. Has anyone seen it?
Also, I saw this try this morning in my twatter feed. All hail the King of Little Men in Rugby:
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Meades lives!!!!!!!!!
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2021/apr/28/pedro-and-ricky-come-again-by-jonathan-meades-review-dandyish-hulk-rampage
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well……..the other one
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George North out of the Lions reckoning, according to the Beeb.
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Sladey,
Owen Hatherley interviewed for this last week. They like each other and it shows. It’s a good interview and also led to the immortal Telegraph headline about how the woke brigade won’t stop the writer using Worcester Sauce in his spaghetti bolognese.
https://thequietus.com/articles/29856-jonathan-meades-pedro-and-ricky-come-again-owen-hatherley-interview
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That was a great try from Billy Whizz, but it is noticeable how slow the passing was, even “only” 14 years ago.
Top half backs really zip it along now.
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Foden, innit. That must be one of the reasons he ended up at full back, though he always wanted to be a half back.
Watched a couple of school games from South Africa last night, a couple of very handy half backs there. One, Neil le Roux from Oakdale, is a superb player. And the number 10 of the future might just be Liam Koen of Paarl Gim, a gem.
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Ouch
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that’s Geech’s & Telfers lions team oot the windae
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For info:
Jones
Owens
Furlong
Jones (C)
Itoje
Beirne
Curry
Faletau
Murray
Russell
Williams
Henshaw
North
Watson
Hogg
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Not to be mean to George North but I saw him as a mid week tourist barring injury to other players.
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I should so say that it’s cruel for him to be taken out of the equation in this way.
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What a loss to the medical profession you are, craigs. Your bedside manner is exemplary.
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22 minutes in the latest game in the SA schools tournament. Durbanville 24-5 up with 4 tries, all 4 to Levandre Horn, their winger.
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I don’t get this Wyn Jones bandwagon for starting loosehead.
I have no real problem with Owens at hooker, no one else put their hand up during the 6N, and Furlong looked like he is getting back to his best, so those picks are fine.
For me it was between Ryan and AWJ to partner Itoje. Curry can be used as a lineout jumper, so I’d like to see him and Watson used in a warm up game at 6 & 7, just to see if it would work.
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I can’t see Gats playing Russell from the start, he’d be my pick but that is against type for Gatland.
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Tomp – I’m far better as a reader anyway.
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It’s a shame Underhill hasn’t been back for long. He’d be great at 7.
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‘I don’t get this Wyn Jones bandwagon for starting loosehead.’
His talent for attracting shoulders to his heid should not be underestimated.
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Tight – agree with you that Curry should be 6 and Watson would be my choice of 7 based on current form.
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Not an especially unreasonable team they picked. Would have thought that the starting loosehead spot is pretty open as is 13 where North would have had a chance as he was probably pick of the bunch in the 6N. Would have been interesting to see how Gats felt about that as it hadn’t really worked when he’d tried it when he was Wales coach.
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Hard to leave Beirne out, he had a great 6N
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Scrum half still the glaring weakness.
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In the interest of having the best players on the park, and as SH is a weakness, put Beirne in at scrum half.
That would be a breakdown & defensive powerhouse 6-9.
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Or Faletau could play 8 and 9 at once and then they could pick an extra winger. Or three centres if they’re not sure any of them are any good.
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All sound out-of-the-box-thinking ideas.
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Out-of-the-box-kicking ideas too which is what the game needs.
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Though Beirne would probably still box-kick all the time what with being Irish and Faletau might well do the same just to show he could do it better than most proper scrum halves.
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out-of-the-box-thinking
Ben Foden at scrum half.
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So, given that the inside of my house is still a dusty shit hole, we’re staying outside most if the time doing some serious landscaping in our garden. I’ve just ordered 2 ton bags of hard-core, some ballast and cement. We’re also going to hire a wacker plate and I’m going to borrow my builders cement mixer and pneumatic drill.
But the absolute highlight will be in a few weeks when we rent a digger. All my childhood dreams will be realised.
Going to smoke some brisket this weekend too.
Basically, my neighbours are in for an amazing Bank Holiday of construction noise and bbq smoke.
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“Going to smoke some brisket this weekend too.”
Straight or crumbled up into tobacco?
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The beauty of picking Beirne in the back row is you can have a real go at South Africa at the line-out on their ball. With Watson and Curry you can’t attack the ball in three places at the line out. Either Watson or Curry or Tipuric would do a good job at 7.
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Ticht – probably as part of a Camberwell Carrot.
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Tommy Seymour retires from pro rugby.
48 tries in 150 games for Glasgow
20 tries in 55 games for Scotland
3 tries n 3 games for the Lions.
Not a bad tally.
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Tomp – that’s a good point.
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