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 
Although, feeding pish scotch eggs with chorizo in them to poor, unsuspecting guinea pigs is likely to incur the Wrath of Iks.
LikeLike
You may as well just have a soft boiled egg and a sausage
LikeLike
Quite. Never really seen the point of scotch eggs
LikeLike
I see the point in a scotch egg. I object to its gentrification.
LikeLike
I’d like to see a gentrified macaroni pie
LikeLike
A gentrified meat pie buttie. Served cut in half so you can see how much gravy there is in it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
OT – there’s enough real estate for all scotch eggs. Poor and hard ones aren’t being pushed out by the posh and sloppy ones.
For every hip gastropub bar menu there’s a fuck off, out of town Asda.
LikeLike
Tbh Lorne sausage still creates feelings of confusion.
What is this burger that calls itself a sausage?
LikeLike
Deconstructed meat pie buttie. a bread roll, a cow, some butter and flour.
LikeLike
Done properly a Lorne sausage is a thing of beauty.
LikeLike
Confess I’m ambivalent about the lorne sausage.
Stornoway black pudding however……
LikeLike
Hmmmm.
Lorne sausage, black pudding, maybe a link sausage or two, bacon (done crispy), tattie scones, maybe some mushrooms, fried egg, toast, lots of coffee.
Anyone else feeling hungry?
LikeLike
Unsurprisingly perhaps, no.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The main event ar a barbecue is not, and never will be, vegetables, no matter how prepared. The entire joy of a braai is to cook meat over an open flame, preferably from wood not charcoal, under blue skies (or ink black skies with your braai illuminated by the Milky Way and nothing else). It’s a primal connection to the basis of our humanity. Now, I love a lot of veggies done on open flames, but they’ll never be the star of the show.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Have I made myself clear?
LikeLiked by 1 person
BB, not had tattie scones, but the rest of that sounds brilliant. May toss in some kidneys done with cream, brandy and black pepper just to round it off.
LikeLike
Having beer for dinner so far. Neither Mrs Deebee nor me feels like cooking.
LikeLike
Flair, I’m giving making croissants from scratch a bash this weekend. Can’t find any that are remotely as good as the ones in France over here.
LikeLike
Flair – I’m cooking some imitation KFC for my kids. Want some of that?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can do you a battered chip butty, with gravy?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wouldn’t the main meat content Crash’s scotch egg be chicken?
LikeLiked by 1 person
A scotch egg crosses Crash’s road. Why?
LikeLiked by 4 people
Prague cricket update:
https://www.sportskeeda.com/cricket/news-ravichandran-ashwin-reveals-follows-european-cricket-series-fans-go-berserk
LikeLiked by 1 person
Deebee, good luck with croissants. It’s a lot of work, usually disappointing for me. Don’t eat that many but I have the good fortune to be even picky about which baker I’ll buy them from.
Ach.. brai… like Argentinian meat apparently, enough of an excuse to visit the country. Never been to SA nor Argentina.
Both on the list.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Flair, with the culinary gems being shared above I’m sure you’re breathing a sigh of relief over Brexit! If you’d sent that battered chip buttie thing to Jersey a couple of weeks ago, the French boats would’ve avoided it like the plague!
LikeLike
Imitation KFC was a hit. Which I was quite pleased with given it was on my trusty plug in ikea induction hob.
But tomorrow our oven gets plugged in. It’s been 2 bloody months without an oven and I have a whole chicken and apple pie* ready and waiting.
*This represents 1 chicken and 1 pie for separate courses.
LikeLike
Deebs/Flair – ‘Todo Sobre El Asado’ is a documentary on Netflix is excellent although not for the faint hearted. It looks at Argentinian bbq and culture and has some absolute characters. It’s also quite open about the process of getting meat to the table.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A scotch egg crosses Crash’s road. Why?
To get to the parsley.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Craig, thanks for the recommendation. We subscribed to Netflix for a couple of months. Might be tonight’s treat.
LikeLike
Deebee, just in a few words Brexit breaks my heart. Can’t find any positive in it.
The Brits were difficult partners and they probably had too good a deal within the EU, but we’d be better with them in than out. Don’t underestimate the poisonous effects of anti foreigners 19thC. propaganda. Not something we need when much biggr problems arise continuously.
LikeLike
Watching Campo. Unsurprisingly, he’s bemoaning modern-day rugby. Dissing Eddie Jones now. Too much structure. Calls him a control freak, too many meetings.
LikeLike
Flair
The Brits were difficult partners and they probably had too good a deal within the EU
That is why we were fucking stupid to leave. When we rejoin we will have to ask in girl’s voice and we’ll have none of the good stuff.
LikeLike
@TomP – I’m glad they picked out the greatest moment of the lot. I’m not going to watch the games from any of the other countries as it’ll take over my life. I only got to watch so much of the Prague stuff because for the last four days of it I was ill in bed after my Covid jab, but I was very glad I did. Shame that Vinohrady fell apart in the final , they always looked maybe a little light on the batting and while they didn’t get enough runs the opening bowler also bottled it which didn’t help. I felt for Dany as it was a bit of an impossible game for him to be honest about really. Kings were so dominant on the last day that it felt as if the whole thing had been a bit of a waste of time (not just mine) , but there had been loads to enjoy before that so never mind.
LikeLike
Craig, just finished watching the documentary about Argentina’s asado. Great watch. Loved the tongue in cheek (see what I did?) narrator’s comments. Some great characters there, as you mentionned. Didn’t expect contemporary artist’s nor vegan’s povs. Special mention to the jewish family (father pianist and composer, son singer) raising and killing pigs at home.
Thanks for the recommendation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No worries Flair. Glad you liked it.
LikeLike
Deebee, just in a few words Brexit breaks my heart. Can’t find any positive in it.
I agree 100%, but unfortunately a lot of Brits don’t see it that way, even when not living there. I read an opinion piece here a couple of weeks ago by a smug opposition politician essentially slagging off Labour in the UK in a straw man comparison to his own party. When I pointed out in the BTL that he had unwittingly demonstrated how the weaknesses of Labour (in his view) were exactly the same as his party and had allowed the Tories to get away with rampant corruption over Covid contracts, a disastrous Brexit policy and the destruction of much of the public service, I got attacked by one guy (clearly an expat here) saying that Brexit was brilliant because look at the vaccine rollout. A one-issue poster who was happy with everything else sleazy, because of the perceived success of the UKs vaccine rollout.
I imagine that this played a roll in the recent elections in the UK, and continues a theme of insularity in the face of an increasingly integrated world that has driven Tory popularity in recent years. Not that growing nationalism and insularity is a uniquely UK thing, of course.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes I know, a sample of one, but many of the UK expats here have very similar views about ‘bloody foreigners’ not for a moment recognising their own status.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A sample of one never stopped me before.
LikeLike
The undeniable success of the UK vaccine roll out won’t make much difference ultimately in the pandemy compared to the EU, We’ll both slow the epidemy around the same time. But it will make a big difference in terms of many voters’ perception: see, we are better off alone.
Which of course isn’t true in most matters.
LikeLike
Flair – we are better off with the NHS that’s for sure. Hopefully it will stem the gradual sell off.
LikeLike
CMW- sorry to hear about the illness after the jab. Happened to someone I know in real life as well.
The last day was a little disappointing as none of the games were that close, apart from the 3rd/4th match and that’s not too much to get excited by. The left-hander from Kings, Ramnakrishnan, was very good in the final – he only played a couple of other games and I missed them both.
One big problem with the 10 overs a side thing is if you’re in a side with 2 or 3 strong players you won’t get much of a go. A friend played 5 games for the Kings and faced 5 balls. He did get a catch as well.
LikeLike
The vaccine roll out has been overall been a success but all the triumphalism is a bit sad.
LikeLike
New coach for Italy.
Crowley. From unzud
LikeLike
Franco Smith Jr, son of, had just signed up to play in Italy for Treviso. Wonder if he’ll still go there. He is Italian-qualified from what I understand. Good player for Grey College in Bloemfontein a couple of years back. His younger brother, Jean, is the first team outside half this year and is excellent.
Unfortunately, the SA government has put a stop to this year’s schools rugby because of Covid. They got a few games in and Paarl Gim looked the cream of the crop alongside Grey (who they beat by a couple of points) and Oakdale (CJ Stander’s old school). A few lads deferred their final year of school to play this season as well as Under 19s, which distorts things a little. I wonder if we’ll have the same in 2022.
LikeLike
Smith gone upstairs to be Italy’s heid of high performance
Crowley up to the Italy job from Benetton.
LikeLike
“One big problem with the 10 overs a side thing is if you’re in a side with 2 or 3 strong players you won’t get much of a go. A friend played 5 games for the Kings and faced 5 balls. ”
This is partly why I said I couldn’t see why anyone would bother to play such a short game when you first put the link up*. That said, having watched the Kings enough to see how good their top six are (and they’re mostly the bowling attack as well), I reckon anyone batting below that could play 20 or 40 over cricket for them and still not get to do anything. And that would take a lot more of their time!
*If anything I ended up surprised by how many of each team did manage to get involved – it was a lot better on that front than I expected. The Kings (and one or two of the other teams that were good enough for it to be a consideration) did seem to manage to make sure that all their important players got a chance to get a bit of form before the finals day. Took a mixture of luck and judgment to achieve that of course given the format.
LikeLike
No such problems in my team. Four games in and everyone had a bat in three of them and only one or maybe two people missed out in the other one. Still looking for our first win strangely enough.
LikeLike
@Flair – certainly a big plus – both beef and lamb. But interesting place to visit as well – subtropical north (hummingbirds) and freezing cold south (glaciers and icebergs) ….
LikeLike
subtropical north (hummingbirds) and freezing cold south (penguins)
LikeLike
It’s important to have consistent criteria.
LikeLiked by 3 people