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 
It’s no’ rain if it’s no’ horizontal….
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….just a smirr…………………
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Allright CMW, maybe not under icy horizontal gale. But then, it’s time for some hot drink, not beer. Even at British temperature.
Reminds me of an old french saying about beverages in Britain: when in doubt, if it’s cold, its soup. If it’s warm, its beer.
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Lacks apostrophes, sorry.
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Stormers have started well vs the sharks.
Lots of missed tackles
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17 – 0 after 12 minutes
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Red card for senatla for taking out the full back in the air. Clumsy rather than intentional but a nasty one
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“Allright CMW, maybe not under icy horizontal gale. But then, it’s time for some hot drink, not beer. Even at British temperature.”
They have this drink in Scotland that helps, struggling to remember what it’s called though…
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Buckfast?
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“What about sitting drinking on an outside bench as North Atlantic gales drive icy rain horizontally into your face?”
Stop it, you’re making me homesick
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Ah Bucky
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That’ll be the one!
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Never tasted Bucky. Think I’d rather drink the most horrible whisky in the world (which was Co-Op £10 or something years ago) or even whiskEy than Bucky.
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Sharks woken up a bit
Double yellow for stormers 8, second red for them
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Sharks score and take the lead
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Think I should claim expenses for doing deebee’s job for him
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Hat-trick for sharks lock Hugo. Stormers all at sea
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Nasty knee twist for stormers 10 . Ouch, only 19 apparently
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It was the whisky I meant really, not had Bucky either.
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Scottish weather in Toulouse. Need some whisky.
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Toulouse lead 5/3. Lebel is some wing.
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Toulouse lead 8-6 at HT.
Scrappy game, weather not helping. Bordeaux doing better than expected, not as rusty as many thought. Jalibert quite impressive, attacking the line, kicking well, strong in defence. Toulouse overplaying their hand, still going for the tricky offloads. Barnes happy to work on his language skills.
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Final score: Toulouse win 21-9. Bordeaux ran out of steam.
Dupont scores his trade mark supporting try , following as usual Chris Ashton ‘s example, running by the shoulder of the line breaker.
Forgettable game.
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Someone needs to teach deebee’s lions how to tackle
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Montpellier beat Bath in a distinctly underwhelming match.
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Been watching the snooker instead of rugby today. Sounds like a wise choice.
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Disagree with BB. I thought the game was excellent, tense and gritty. Bath pounded Montpellier’s line to no avail. Not much running rugby but great commitment. Montpellier ‘s defence was just awsome. Plus Benjamin Kayser was commenting for French TV.and he’s quite good.
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We had Dallagio and Monye so French TV wins hands down on that one. Bath made Scotland’s lineout against Ireland look pinpoint accurate.
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Ben Youngs has ruled himself out of the Lions tour https://www.skysports.com/rugby-union/news/16057/12292750/ben-youngs-england-scrum-half-rules-himself-out-of-british-and-irish-lions-selection
I would like to take this opportunity to announce my withdrawal from consideration as a Lions tourist and wish the very best to whoever goes in my stead.
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Think I should claim expenses for doing deebee’s job for him
Claim away! Most of my expenses at the moment are paid by the generous UK taxpayer. Bless you all.
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@OT
Although Youngs ruling himself out is a potential object of derision… its a damn thin field at 9… Murray….maybe Tomos Williams (if fully fit)….then it’s fringe players from national squads…
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When I first started playing rugby – I knew the rules (mostly) but not how to play – and as I was young and fit and fast (enough) one of my older colleagues suggested playing flanker ( we weren’t sophisticated enough to play open and blind – we packed down left and right)
I asked what do I do? “Chase the ball” was his reply… its not a bad rule for a 7 generally or a 9 when you’re attacking….
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“then it’s fringe players from national squads…”
Like Cooney?
Much as I would love a Scottish scrum half to go (and if one was to be picked it would be Ali Price) I don’t think any of ours is better at the moment than the choices from Wales or Ireland.
Next time will be Horne The Younger as first choice though….
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Crap 9s in the UK and Ireland?
Simple. Invade France, shouldn’t take long, it can be done before the tour begins. Fast track Dupont with a blue passeport. Et voilà.
Take Jalibert, Fickou and Ollivon for good measure.
Forget Leroux and Willemse, though, they might be recognised over there.
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My Lions 9 would be Cooney.
That Thaum set this notablog has nothing to do with it.
As a footnote, I really liked the young 10 from Bath. Only 19? Looks like a future England player.
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Orlando Bailey, that’s the name.
Mercer was good too, unfortunately off to… Montpellier next season.
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As diminutive 9 go, how brave is Benoît Paillaugue? At 1.75m and barely 75kg, he tackled like a demon including a one on one on Cokanasiga ( spell?).
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One for the steal : am split about this afternoon’s game. I really like LaR, and wish them well. But I’d rather not have an all French final, they tend to be quite boring affairs.
Allez les Bleus…?
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Mercer was one that got away from us, he went to school in Edinburgh but didn’t get a contract after playing for Scotland U16s.
Bailey looks good, I agree, between him and Marcus Smith England are looking well set for tens for a good few years, Smith has made 100 appearances for Quins and he’s still only 22.
I thought Redpath showed up well a couple of times, he can carry as well as distribute, as the BT Sport guys were saying, it’s not often you get a 12 who can do both well.
How brainless were Bath, though? If ever there was a time to spin it wide it was after failing to break the magnificent Montpellier defence for about the 100th time, even it was only to thin out the defensive line and keep them guessing, then go back to forcing your way over with fewer defenders in front you.
It’s easy to say from here, though, and the stats must back up the likelihood of scoring from close in as opposed to going wide, but it was frustrating to watch from a neutral’s perspective.
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Mercer is overrated in my view,,,,,,,never stops trying but not quite good (or big) enough
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The Bath 9 was OK too. Nothing flashy sure, but efficient. Now that Youngs has ruled himself out of the Lions tour, he might go on the plane.
I thought Mercer was the best Bath player yesterday. Agree with Ticht about Redpath but also about the stubborness, should I say narrow mindedness, of Bath attacks.
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Ach I want La Rochelle to win.
Leinster are a fantastically well coached team, full of internationals (and Lionz). They have a well stocked academy, seemingly their pick of players from all over Ireland, and they can play almost any style of rugby. Their defence is mean as hell, and their attack is clinical.
I can’t stand them. Admittedly, most of this is due to jealousy. I would love for Glasgow to be in a similar position, but that ain’t gonna happen.
It’s a bit like Man City. They have a fantastic coach, brilliant players (de Bruyne, Mahrez, Aguerro, loved David Silva too) and play some brilliant football. Can’t stand them either.
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I haven’t followed the T14 for a few years so I’m a bit out of touch.
However I see Leinster a lot and something I admire about them is their ruthlessness, once they get ahead in the big games they up the intensity, same both sides of half time.
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Good game.
Leinster lead 13/12 at HT.
Looked very one sided for the first 20 minutes, LaR giving away lots of penalties. Leinster very fast ( sometimes too fast) and very good. LaR a bit nervous first are finding their feet.
Should be a cracking 2nd half.
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Didn’t see this coming. Leinster distinctly second best in the second half. LaR worthy winners.
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Final score 32/ 23.
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That’s not a score I would have expected after the first 10 minutes or so. Didn’t see the second half, but sounds as though La Rochelle upped the intensity a fair bit.
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Very good second period from La Rochelle, worthy winners in the end.
Even in that company Will Skelton looks a very large human being.
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Watched The Mitchells Against The Machines on Netflix. Wasn’t sure what to expect, but loved it. Maybe not quite at the level of The Incredibles, but not far off (and more quirky too).
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Oh, Big Talk re that being in the ball park of the Incredibles, BB.
Cheers, I’ll take a look.
I do whish I had younger children to validate my watching of these films though, I miss that from a few years ago.
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