the Not Johnny Clegg Story of Travel In Africa
We climbed quickly into the air and escaped the clutches of Kinshasa below us, with Brazza rapidly fading behind us too as we headed towards Douala and sanity. It’s a relatively short flight, across Congo-Brazza, Gabon, and I would imagine Equatorial Guinea, before getting to Cameroon. There was the odd bit of turbulence as we flew into the darkness of a tropical night, the sun setting very quickly in Africa, no dilly-dallying like in Europe. We were to transfer from the international side to the domestic side and get a flight to Yaoundé from there, with our host Eric, who would provide our visas on arrival. Douala soon appeared on the horizon, lights flickering in the distance, a reassuring sign that we were on track. Then they disappeared. Just for a couple of minutes, then reappeared. If we’re being blocked by mountains, I thought, we’re pretty fucking low to the ground. But the lights were well below us – it was just a normal night of patchy electricity, with generators kicking in whenever the power failed. Which was often.
We landed without problems and soon made our way into the arrivals hall. Rob and his Gabonese business partner rounded us up, including a young woman from South Africa’s tourism board, who spoke fluent French, having grown up in exile in Paris and attended a swanky school there, she told me. Several times. Where was Eric? We needed our visas and clearance to get to the domestic flight. Turns out his flight from Yaoundé had been cancelled due to bad weather. No visas, no entry. No power, no lights. And every time the lights came back on, the South Africans were clear to everyone – diving on their luggage to make sure nobody stole it in the dark. For shame! After a couple of hours of hanging around the humid arrivals desk, our Gabonese colleague arguing with the officials in a combination of French and English, with a few choice Zulu and Afrikaans swearwords thrown in, had managed to get us out of the airport and off to a hotel for the night, our connecting flight having long since departed. Only problem, we had to leave our passports behind.
We headed to the Akwa Palace Hotel, not too far away and close to the Wouri River, where logs were floated down from the interior, destined mainly for China. It was late by now and everything was closed. Our host managed to get a chef and waitress to serve us dinner. “Just remember – everything makes you sick, so stick to overcooked chicken!” Rob hissed in my ear. I looked at the menu, and asked the waitress what she’d recommend. “The ndolé! It’s delicious!” was the immediate, infectious response. I was sold. It’s basically a wild spinach that is cooked in a variety of different ways depending on location and culture. Mine came with chillies, shrimp and peanuts. It was superb. I got lost in the tastes as Rob was demanding sauce to make his overcooked chicken palatable. He lathered it on the leathery fowl and launched into it, before lunging for a beer and gulping it down as the piri-piri sauce caught his throat. Once he’d stopped choking, he shut up for a bit. What a win!
Before dawn the next morning we got into our air-conditioned 4×4 and started the five hour, 230km trip to Yaoundé, Cameroon’s capital city. We’d arrived about two weeks before the elections, held faithfully every seven years by incumbent Paul Biya in the solid knowledge that they’re rigged in his favour and France prefers him in power to the unknown*. What it did mean, though, was that as we traversed the countryside, we hit army roadblocks every 20 or 30 kilometres. The process was simple: the driver drove as fast as he could through the winding roads of the forest and open grasslands, overtaking massive logging trucks and petrol hauliers without much thought for what may be coming the other way, at equally breakneck speed; hooting at everything in sight, through small villages with timber houses, some painted brightly, others not, scattering chickens, children and goats as he went. As the rudimentary roadblocks loomed – a plank with nine-inch nails facing upwards and soldiers with AK-47s manning them in case you decide to skip them – he would swear, screech to a halt and put his subservient smiley face on. Because we didn’t have our passports back yet. No sweat, he calmly gave his identity card and a wad of cash at each stop and we were on our way again. In retrospect, we were beyond lucky that we weren’t locked up for days or weeks on end while the issue was sorted out, but yours truly was filled with the bonhomie of a man released from the shame of apartheid, and faith in the humanity of all people. Basically, a naïve idiot. But it was this trip, careening through the rainforests, our driver and minder** regaling stories of Roger Milla and other football heroes, the forests flying by with stunning majesty, smells, sounds and lighting, with Manu Dibango, Salif Keita and Youssou N’Dour for company, that cemented my love for the continent, my people and its music. I can still smell those rainforests whenever I hear that music. I can still recall the arguments about which of the Biyiks was the better footballer. Magical.
We arrived in Yaoundé just before 9 am, so just in time for the start of the main conference to cement ties between South Africa and Cameroon. We sat at the podium, with yours truly to do the introductory speech, much to my horror. We waited patiently for the local dignitaries to arrive. Then took a coffee break at 10am. By 11am, when the local governor and minister of trade had decided which of them would enter last to the greater fanfare, we got underway. Sort of. We had to wait for the TV crews to get back from their own break and then repeat the sweeping entrances and ovations. That done, brief introductory speeches out of the way, it was time for lunch.***
Host Eric was in fine fettle by now, with coverage on national television assured, and took us to an ‘eco-lodge’ for lunch. It was a beautiful wooden house perched on top of a hill looking across tropical forests as far as the eye could see. It was built from the trees that once inhabited the hill and the now lack of vegetation was creating serious erosion, which the owner, who wanted to build another twenty of them on the hills around there, seemed oblivious to. Lunch was great though – donkey, pork and goat meat skewers presented on a grooved wooden platter with different spices in each groove. You rolled your skewer in whichever one you wanted, and they then grilled it for you. Served with deep-fried plantains, now a firm favourite of mine and washed down with a small 33 Export. Back to the hotel just in time for the coffee break.
By this stage, trouble was brewing in paradise, with Rob and his sidekick demanding our passports back and accusing Eric of effectively holding us hostage. Eric was incensed, accusing them of wanting a free trip that they were simply using for their own business. I stayed out of it, figuring that he who holds the passport is king. And he also had my plane ticket. The afternoon flew past, with recriminations replaced by reconciliations and renewed animosity by turn, but I was meeting with great people, many of whom were interested in sending their kids to South African universities. I was happy to oblige, having recently been at one and helped them with entrance requirements on return.
Eric then introduced me to a good friend of his – the CEO of the local branch of one of the world’s largest tobacco companies. We were soon off to his aunt’s fantastic restaurant* for dinner, with a bunch of South African Air Force pilots for company as well. They were training the Cameroon Air Force, but seldom got into the skies because of the weather, so spent most of their time drinking in the hotel. And then being grounded because they weren’t in any condition to fly. Dinner was sublime, again, with a variety of seafood, meats, vegetables and casava concoctions that I can’t remember the names of. The rest of the week followed a fairly similar pattern of torturous Cameroonian hierarchy politics, wasted time, great meetings, better food and excellent company. Time to head back to Douala and the final leg of our journey – still (worryingly) no passports in sight.
*Sorry Flair, that was the distinct impression given to us at the time, and it persists today!
**We imagined he was just there to keep us safe from harm, but was in fact Secret Service assigned to us to make sure we weren’t spying on the elections, we found out much later.
***I think you’re getting to understand that I’m a victim of largesse in all of this and lunches were thrust one me at an early age.
As digested by Deebee7
Onna telly this week
Friday 30th April
| Leicester v Ulster | 20:00 | BT Sport 2 |
| France v England (women) | 20:00 | BBC iPlayer/Red Button |
Saturday 1st May
| Stormers v Sharks | 13:00 | Premier Sports 2 |
| Toulouse v Bordeaux | 15:00 | Channel 4 / BT Sport 3 |
| Bulls v Lions | 18:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Bath v Montpellier | 20:00 | BT Sport 2 |
Sunday 2nd May
| La Rochelle v Leinster | 15:00 | BT Sport 2 |
Ovally Balls 
I heard a rumour that Sale Sharks have hired a plane to fly the squad out after they lose the English Premiership semi-final………
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Revised schedule for the LIons:
Saturday 3 July: Emirates Lions v The British & Irish Lions (Emirates Airline Park, Johannesburg) KO 18h00 (SAT) / 17h00 (BST)
Wednesday 7 July: Cell C Sharks v The British & Irish Lions (Emirates Airline Park, Johannesburg) KO 20h00 (SAT) / 19h00 (BST)
Saturday 10 July: Vodacom Bulls v The British & Irish Lions (Loftus Versfeld, Pretoria) KO 18h00 (SAT) / 17h00 (BST)
Wednesday 14 July: South Africa ‘A’ v The British & Irish Lions (Cape Town Stadium, Cape Town) KO 20h00 (SAT) / 19h00 (BST)
Saturday 17 July: DHL Stormers v The British & Irish Lions (Cape Town Stadium, Cape Town) KO 18h00 (SAT) / 17h00 (BST)
Saturday 24 July: Springboks v The British & Irish Lions (1st Test, Cape Town Stadium, Cape Town) KO 18h00 (SAT) / 17h00 (BST)
Saturday 31 July: Springboks v The British & Irish Lions (2nd Test, FNB Stadium, Johannesburg) KO 18h00 (SAT) / 17h00 (BST)
Saturday 7 Aug: Springboks v The British & Irish Lions (3rd Test, FNB Stadium, Johannesburg) KO 18h00 (SAT) / 17h00 (BST)
A loosener in the first game. Should be 40 or 50 points.
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Chimpie, I sincerely hope that you’re right.
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TomP, doubt we’ll put that many on the B&I Lions. Not more than a score I’d say.
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Was actually at the last Lions vs Lions match here when the NH version put 70+ on us from memory. Ugo was in fine form.
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Connacht leading against Munster at the break! Missed all of it bar the kickvto end the half, you’ll all be delighted and relieved to know.
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Craig Casey is a chippy little bastard at 9. I approve.
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At least the Galway Gibbons and the Limerick Lobsters only have their sponsors’ names for their stadiums. Don’t like the sound of these South African teams at all.
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Definitive proof that country music is evil. Watching a documentary on the Vietnam War era’s music in the US, and while respectable musicians were of course recording all sorts of anti-war material, the country singers were recording pro-war shite.
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Gwan Connacht!
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We’d better not any of us follow a Lions Tour to South Africa on that basis.
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Let’s hope Ulster can pull off (so to speak) a second upset.
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The country music basis that is, not the DHL Stormers thing. I think I might make the Stormers my South African team to follow as I have fond memories from my old work of us having to bin DHL on the first day they started doing our deliveries when the driver sped along the side of the building and almost ran down the MD who was on a rare visit.
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BT Sport talking about a Sale player (South African obviously) who is 6′ 8″ and wondering who has played in the Premiership who is taller. Mention a couple of names, but completely forget about Richie Gray (who played for Sale) who is 6’10”. Mind you he barely played for them (and some would say he barely played for them when he was on the field as well), but not surprising that Lol didn’t know who he was.
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Bayfield and Charteris spring to mind. Just discovered Derwyn who got knocked out by that evil Saffer played a few games for Bedford too.
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is it a coincidence that S and A are the first two letters of SAle?
IS it South African Lion Eaters or South Africa Lose Easily?
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Exeter’s Jonny Hill is 6ft 7ins
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Nowell probably out for the season – therefore off the Lions back-up list (if he was on it)
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Don’t know if it’s like the football Premier League, where they don’t recognise anything that happened before it started. Just checked – it started in 1987, so both Bayfield and Charteris would be in.
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Ulster nearly score the first points, but Shanahan just not tall enough to reach out.
Well, it was more the length of his arms that was the problem, but he’d look really funny if he had long enough arms and was still the same height.
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Charteris only retired two years ago.
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BALOUCOOOUUNNNEE furra line!
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Cam Redpath playing well for Bath. South African Sharks are level but have blown a few chances and McGinty’s Goat could kick better than AJ is at the moment.
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Fucking Leinster return the favour.
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Things go bonkers. Billy Burns somehow makes a massive break, but gets ankle-tapped, then Ulster manage to hold on through McCloskey and others, a penalty is awarded, and McCloskey kicks across the field for Timoney to gather, who unfortunately puts a foot in touch.
Back for the pen.
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Henshaw bloody lucky not to get a red there. As it turns out, nothing but a penalty.
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@thaum
An anti-war country singer
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OT – Prine has some non-country credentials.
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Folk-blues.
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Ulster playing some lovely rugby, but get pushed back while retaining possession. Finally get a penalty. Couple minutes until HT.
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Leinster win a dubious penalty and kick it into Ulster’s 22. Then another penalty advantage.
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Ulster ultimately turn the ball over & kick it out for HT. 7 all!
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Pleased with Ulster’s performance against the Blue Meanies so far.
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Let’s see what can be learned from The Morning Star:
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SAle down to their usual 13 and losing on the scoreboard, so should go on to win now………………..
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Billy Burns misses a penalty for no apparent reason.
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thaum,
Johnny Cash:
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Cian Healy and the male detective from Spiral could be brothers.
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Don’t be daft. I’m not clicking on that. And not just because I’m watching the rugby.
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*Gilou
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Burns manages to kick a penalty to put Ulster 10-7 up.
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Norngibbons going alright
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Frigging Conan scores pretty easily.
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‘Scuse me, Chimpie, but we have definitive proof earlier that it’s Galwegians who are the gibbons.
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Norngibbons not doing alright
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They’re Galway gibbons not norngibbons. Quite distinct
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Aha, it was looking all over for Ulster, but they held up the try try, and it’s a goal-line dropout.
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Bit of a furcup when Leinster kick to the Ulster 22, and they end up scoring.
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All gone to poop for ulster since I stuck my oar in. Apologies
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Madigan on for Burns & immediately gets good field position.
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