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Nigeria.
Sunday 21 March 2010
Leaving behind the Niger border and the
friendly, helpful officers, we were on the
way to Sokoto. Here groundnuts are planted
and
exported to the South. On petrol stations, long lines or others
complete empty. No fuel. One wonders as
Nigeria is a large oil
producing country. Beggars have a difficult live now, as all flock
around the few stations, quadrupling their
numbers and reducing the
chance of an alms to a quarter. The diesel which cost N115.- is
only sold to you for N120.-. Pay or go! That
is unfortunate, but the
situation up here in the Sokoto state. We checked into a hotel and
tried to find something to eat.
"SHANGHAI RESTAURANT" a signboard promised fine Chinese dish. Well,
the menu had many "No de" (Not available).
We choose
chicken curry, in mind, what we use to eat in Brunei. What came was
a chicken leg, bone dry flesh, in an
indefinable sauce with soft
cooked rice. "Where is the curry miss?". "No de", was her answer.
 .
beggars, mostly kids and young men
schoolchildren from a Muslim Institution
Typical town scene, people, cars and dust in
Hamadan
Since we had been confronted when
photographing, we kept our cameras away and
shot only out of the car with a few
exceptions.
Nigerians in general do not like to have photos taken. What are the
ashamed for?
Monday 22-3-2010
Last night we arrived in Sokoto and this morning we were early up, driving
towards Kaduna, 430 km away. Good roads, but
village
markets grow like mushrooms into the
streets. With speed breakers
consisting of stones and tiers, they slow
down the fast
passingNigerian motorists.
Sugarcane is grown here in the North. The sweet load of sugarcane is a welcoming
load for workers as we can see.
Veggies like
carrots are sold on the
road. Cows use the road, as motorists do.
Nigerian Adverts
and a scam on the wall
Arriving at 5:00 pm we searched to find
a hotel relatively reasonable priced.
Relative reasonable! A 3 star establishment
cost still
18.000 Naira, that is Euro 90.-
or B$ 190.- a night. There are no camping
places in Kaduna, and a cheap hotel would
mean we expose
the car to security risks.
Tuesday 23-3-2010
Typical Kaduna traffic,
the town is overpopulated
In the morning we went to the
commissioner of Police. The reason being
that on route a few unscrupulous men in
Uniform tried to
enrich themselves, holding
us up. We did not pay a naira.
He, a gentleman listen first, then gave us
his mobile number to call, should we be
harassed again somewhere.
Kaduna town struggles to cope with the
vehicles. Although on every junction is a
policeman, delays are frequent, especially
during rush
hour. We got out of the town by
noon heading south to the capital of
Nigeria, Abuja.
The journey of 3 hours was uneventful. A
mobile police patrol just waved us through, all men smiling. "That was the
Commissioner,
thank you for that, his
office must have instructed them" said Harun.
Hamadan dust was still in the air when we
arrived in Abuja. There is no camping.
After driving around looking for
accommodation, we checked into a hotel for
the rate 28.000.-, which is B$300.- a night.
(Sheraton here
charges Naira 70.000.-, or B$
700.- a night). That is very costly and
bites into our budget. Here we will try to
get the outstanding visas.
Using the
remaining hours we searched for the
Angola Embassy first and then for a
forwarder should they refuse the transit.
The
solution would be then we ship JAMBO
from Nigeria to South America.
In old days, Panalpina was a 10 km out of
town , since they packed out of Nigeria, their operations was taken over
by another
company, Ballast Agencies Ltd.
Harun went up to the boss, Mr. Pascal Rufi to
enquire, and struck gold. Visa gold
naturally. This kind gentleman seem to know
everybody and a few calls he made, were
promising.
Mr. Pascal Rufi , our 'Miracle man'
WEDNESDAY 24-3-2010
By 8.30 we were at the Angolan Embassy. The
Consul listen to our request and said: "If
all is in order you get the visa on Friday"
We were so happy dear reader you cannot
imagine. Filling the forms and submitting
the passports the counter lady said: "Come
on
Friday to collect your passports". The
next stop was the Embassy of the DRC." If
you have an Angola visa we give you ours
within a
day". That all happen in the
morning. Good news indeed.
We also checked out of the "rip off" hotel as we
wanted to safe money. The cheaper one now,
cost is Naira 17,000.- which is still
B$ 170.-
Nigeria is and English speaking country.
While none of us speaks French and therefore
where hindered in discussions from Morocco
to Niger, here we used our time and went to
The NEW NIGERIAN, an established
newspaper since thirty years.
To make it short, they were
exited to see a car from Brunei here in
Abuja. I had chance to talk about the HALAL
products too.
Our story comes in the Sunday edition.
NEW
NIGERIAN News Paper, Abuja
Bureau Chief,
explaining my kitchen
Mr. Michael Ola Reis and
the photographer.
Then in the afternoon something
completely unexpected happen. Harun went to
buy water while I was waiting in JAMBO. Two
ladies
approached the car curious. When I
explained from where we come, one said; We are from the Satellite Television station; do
you
have time to follow us to the studio? "
Naturally", and we drove behind their car up
a hill on the outskirt of Abuja.
A big area with several buildings and large
satellite dishes, trucks and so forth. It
was DAAR, the station broadcasting all over
Africa.
The news of our arrival spread like
bushfire. In no time were almost all of the
staff out to look at us and JAMBO.
Two hours followed into the evening with
recording, and questions were many. I had
chance not only to talk about about our
travel, but
also about my beloved Brunei and our Halal products. Photos were
shot by the dozen.
They had never seen someone like us Explaining Halal
The north of Nigeria is
predominantly Islamic and as such I could
talk define what fine work our Agriculture
department on the HALAL
sector does.
Even Harun was "in focus".
We came like a bombshell into the
consciousness of the Nigerians. The program
is aired on Sunday, we
were told. All over
Africa.
The farewell friendship photo
from African Independent Television (AIT)
Princess Halima Jubril the lady who brought
us to the station. Mr Benji Ekpenyong
General
Manager (News).
There is more interesting development. At the end came the boss out,
Mr Benji Ekpenyong General
Manager (News) and we
discussed the eventuality of shooting an one
hour feature of Brunei's activities and air
it all over Africa. All over Africa? I
asked, Nigeria
has already 160 million
people.
"The cost involved?" Not more than
US 60.000.- . We come with a crew. No other
expenses to be paid. That is not bad,
looking at the
potential. After airing the
Brunei feature, I could vision enquires
about HALAL products. The team could focus
on Agriculture in general
and in the
production of dried food in particular. Cash
crop production etc. Here in Nigeria when
there is season, mangos, cassava and
others
are going to waste. In off season times,
there is nothing available. We could
transfer this drying and packing technology.
With such a broadcast reaching
millions in a continent, where agriculture
is in infancy contacts are extremely likely.
They wanted us to come back on Monday for a
life interview about Nigeria, as we see it
in its development and what can be done to
improve the life of millions. But we intend
to leave on Sunday morning, after collecting
the newspaper article.
We will apologize.
THURSDAY 25-3-2010
We are still in Abuja. One of JAMBO's tires
was loosing slowly air We went to an
African repair shop.
The pictures demonstrate how with simple
tools the tire was fixed. A self-made tire remover, a compressor which is an old
Aircon
compressor and that is it.
The team of mechanics air-con compressor to blow the tire up
Self-made tools to get the tire from the rim
Even Harun's hat they sewed on the spot
National Mosque. The
Hamadan, dust in the air, blurs the vision
In the afternoon, we went
to the National Mosque after asking the
Imam, we were permitted to enter. A
caretaker coming with us. The
Mosque now
about 20 years old was finance by
Northern states and contributions of
Individuals. She has space for 10.000
believers.
On special holy days, there
assemble a 100.000 followers outside in the
periphery. Looking at her, she is build like
a fortress. The
outside is cladded in
Travertine marble.
National mosque
in Abuja, Nigeria
Main entrance doors
courtyard
entrance door detail
The caretaker had to be with us as
already people complained thinking we are
not Muslim . The mosque is not overloaded
with gold
plated ornaments, but kept simple.
Women pray in the first floor and the lower
area is reserved for men.
Kiblat
detail of the prayer carpet
the Dom in geometrical pattern
Holy Koran laid out
It was the first object we cold
photo without distractions or complains.
Some Nigerians insist that a permission is
needed, even when
photo JAMBO at a petrol
station. "You must go to the manager and
apologize" insisted the silly man.
FRIDAY 26-3-2010
Today is Visa day. Today we will know if we
can push on or have to ship JAMBO from
Nigeria to Argentina. All will depend on one
visa, ANGOLA.
I was praying silently when we went to the
Embassy. Although they open by 9:30, we were
there an hour earlier. What to say? By
10:15
we had our passports- and visa. 5 days time
to transit Angola. I remember how our
Embassy in Rabat fought.
I was aware of Pascal's efforts and we
thank him very much. But credit must go to
TOTAL. Mr. Yves the director in Brunei had
contacted TOTAL in Congo we are aware of
that. While we do not know who is to get the
most credit, one thing is sure. Ladies and
Gentlemen of Brunei, ask yourself:
Which other petroleum company would not only
sponsor our achievements for the sake of
Brunei
our beloved country, but use their worldwide connections, trying to
smoothen our travel? You have to look far.
The DRC Visa
Namibia Visa note the "171"
which is following me through life
Having the Angolan
visa we rushed
to the DRC Embassy, the Democratic
Republic of Congo. One hour and we had our
visas.
Visa fee of B$ 170.- each. Naturally such an expedited service
cost some extra.
By12:00 we rushed with filled application
forms to the Namibian consulate in the other
side of town. "Come by 4:00pm"..
The visa was in my passport by 5:30. Three on one day, one
stroke so to say, was special and we went to
a Chinese restaurant
to fill our belly with Mee and tofu, which I miss so much.
Sometimes I feel lonely without my close
family. Harun is great support,
but brothers and sisters and listening to our fine RTB station, is something he cannot replace.
But this is an expedition which we will
see
through. One day we will roll over the
Brunei border, still many months away.
One day I will be happy to embrace them again.
SATURDAY 27-3-2010
Today we looked at the common activities of farmers and others
within the city limits. As it was the last
Saturday in the month, Abuja
is cleaning up. From 7:00 am to 10:00 am no one is allowed to
drive. Should you, a fine of 10.000 naira equal to B$ 1.000.-
is
imposed.
We obeyed and started our tour accordingly after 10:00, stopping at an area
where the chop wood into small packing's,
to
be sold as firewood.
Malam Kano had his tribe marks on the checks. He, the boss of the
operation told us, that one bundle of this
wood commands a price
of Nair 1.000.- that is B$ 10.-. A hefty sum.
Malam Kano a Haussa man
that is, how they cut fire wood
the axe is only
a chisel in a wooden handle
Naira 1.000.- or B$ 10.- for the
bundle
What they can do
with papayas
and with mangos
In the vicinity, a depression, where the soil is a little moist,
were fruit trees planted and bananas as well
as mangos and papaya.
We had a lengthy walk through, whereby I told some of our useful
customs. They listen eagerly when I told
that we cook the mark of
a Banana stem and do not rot it to waste. Or we pickle the mangoes
while they are green, extending the fruit
season by doing so.
Green bananas fallen to ground are peeled and cooked.
The the same with papaya.
Or we make banana chips or cassava too.
From all that they had no idea.
A single maize plant in the otherwise dry
soil
discussing the various options with them
They were truly listening to what I had to say and followed my
words, keen to understand. It is a pity we
do not stay longer, as we
could train them, and to improve their lives by just using
what is now thrown away.
SUNDAY 28-3-2010
No more police hassle
Having collected our news paper copy we are leaving Abuja on
the way to Cameroon. The road was tarred and
good, most of the way.
Slowly the vegetation
became greener and traditional bush huts
sprung up along the road next to small
holdings where farming is done
in the
traditional way, to feed the family.
Naturally the huts have no electricity and
water is fetched from a well or river. A job
for
women and children.
Living and farming the old way in south east
Nigeria
Preparing a tapioca plantation In this man made hills grows the tapioca
Soon we passed Makurdi the
town on the Benue river and headed towards
the Cameroun border. It is the end of the
dry season, and
the river held little water.
These are the times when fishermen catch big
fish as they gather in deep pools. The nets
are full of brasses,
catfish and tilapia.
The Benue river banks
The night we set up in Royal palm
Hotel in a Ogoja village, where light only
came on, after they found diesel in the
market for the
generator. As we had not
eaten all day we asked for fried rice from
the menu. "No de" (Don't have) was the
answer. 'You have rice?".
Then dear Brunei
reader, I open my JAMBO kitchen with Brunei
spices .
like in a longhouse the "kitchen is a separate unit
with a wood fire place. The Chief (and
only) cook is checking my Brunei cuisine
The result was a Nasi Goreng, "the finest
since Morocco", so Harun insisted.
"Even Chief Ishong the owner of the place we
stayed, would have been impressed. "He might
be right, because not one rice corn
remained
on the plate." The chief cook, a women which
only choose the hot open fire job, because
there is always plenty to eat, was
wondering; "How I could put such taste
into plain rice?"
MONDAY 29-3-2010
By 7:30 we were on the road looking for a
station with fuel.
Strange enough, Nigeria is one of the biggest exporters of Oil and there
is never enough fuel around in the country.
There are long
waiting lines on
"price correct stations", like on a TOTAL.
No one jumps the queue. Not that they are
extra kind and patient, no.
Policemen, all
wearing machine pistols assure the order. Nigerians do not have the cash to pay extra,
hence the lines.
On the way we had to fuel and turned into this station. Look at this fuel
counter.
"Oga is your liter counter accurate?" Harun asked the guy. "Na be correct
Masta"". Harun again;"You are sure?"
"Yes Masta" .
"O.K, make na tanki full.".Harun
spoke pidgin English. The attendant fingered
on two red electric wires leading to the
motor, that the
sparks were flying. I jumped
readily into the car to drive away in case
he blew up his station. But nothing to
worry. This was only to
test which is
the right connection. He got them together
and electric motor begun to run. The
worn out counter made a noise as if a
would
fall apart." Klaka di Klak" on every
rotation. "Masta na look"
he pointed to the zero numbers on the
mechanical devise, before
putting the nozzle
into our tank. "OK,Oga ". Harun watched with
eagle eyes what the counter would do, and if
there is any diesel
coming out from the
nozzle at all. Suddenly Harun
commanded him:"Oga stop". Wethin? (What is
it ?) He asked. "Oga look na de
meter show
995 liters. "So sorry masta" na meter count
backward. Harun: "What? Your meter count
from 999 down?
" Yes Masta!" Kalkulator ideh.
(I have).
So it was done. approximately 70 liter were missing, the counter shows 922 , when
the tank was full. We never had a chance to
proof how much went into his pocket as an
unjustified extra.
But JAMBO must "drink like all of us".
Further on, the farmers were drying
rice on the tar road.Ccurious we halted to
see the procedure. They cook the rice soft
first,
then only drying it and removing the
husk. Turning it in the sunlight with the
self-made rack, a piece of tire on a stick.
rice drying
after cooking it soft
the cooking procedure
turning and drying
the self-made rack
For their lunch, tapioca is
made eatable on a charcoal fire, while the
madam took a chance for a ride back to the
village, balancing
her just purchased rice load perfectly well.
Tapioca, taste like grilled potatoes You try this, dear reader
It was to become a long day.
By 2:00 pm we were at the Nigerian border,
a bridge over a small river. This side
Nigeria, other side
Cameroun. Again as when
coming into the country, the officers were
friendly and correct. No complain.
Now we leave the nation of 160 million
people. Too many for my taste and it has an
impact on the land. Many young people
struggle
for a living, that makes them
aggressive. The environment struggles too.
Up north, there is nothing left, a few trees
replanted only and
dust during Hamadan. They would need mechanized farming and
irrigation on a large scale. Here in the southeast,
where villagers
control their land, trees
are seen and cared for. Animals graze, life
is a bit better. But in general, when we
discussed the situation,
they need a miracle
or a strong but honest hand who will be able
to pull the nation into the future.
And electricity? The frequent power cuts
force people and firms to buy generators.
That cost money which is loaded onto goods,
making them more expensive. The commoner
with one bulb in his hut has to use a
kerosene lamp or spend the evening in the
dark.
What enjoyment has he? Making a baby again, adding to more people
and misery. That all amounts to frustration and
eventual
aggression directed to anyone and
anything.
The taxi driver commended the situation:
"Our government is only squabbling and
politicians enrich themselves. No one
cares."
It is not for us to judge his statement.
CAMEROUN
MONDAY 29-3-2010
The border control was without any hassle
and by 2:00 pm we were rolling on Cameroun
land.
We heard dreadful stories about the
road towards Bali a small town in the highlands,
only about 280 km away. Frequent police and
army checkpoints we passed unhindered until
we came to a shade where an uniformed and a
civilian was sitting. A rope span the
road.
"Passports" the officer demanded. We obeyed and the uniform man,
adjusting his revolver belt went to the
"commissioner",
an oversized man in slippers sitting on a bench. He wore civil dress.
They looked long and discussed. We went to
them to find out what was the problem..
"Your visa is expired" said the civilian.
The uniformed one, added " You hear, your
visa is expired". We looked together
at it. Transit after the 15-3- 2010.
There was no expiry date.
For the
next 1/2 hour we argued to and fro, the
commissioner looking at some files,
but did
not have the solution, repeating, "we only
want to help" . Aha, from this direction blew
the wind. They want our "help" in return.
We
apologized, although we were correct.
"Very
sorry commissioner". Then showing them the
Nigerian newspaper cutting, that accelerated
our departure.
Wondering naturally; if the visa is wrong
the immigration at the border would have
refused entry.
As in many African countries the Chinese
build roads against mineral extraction
rights or other commodities, helping
themselves and
the host country. Here, they
were working on the border road.
If anyone said the Chinese skin is yellow,
in the tropic they became brown from the daily sun.
280 km in gear 1 and 2 a small stretch of gravel road
pristine waters, still clean; for how much
longer?
Bad road; Sorry JAMBO
Luck was with us, as there
was no rain today. So, we did not slide on
the clay surface.
Both sides was undisturbed rainforest, with
all the noise in the air, which we know from
our forests too well.
alone in the dead of night, driving in
foreign land
At night we climbed mountain pass up to
1500m, we were too tiered to shoot any
photo. Boulders as large as footballs lay on
the road.
Twice we saw a salon car, they had
the body raised like the American monster cars, to cope with the road. No
number plates. Those
were presumably taxies. JAMBO and we endured the torture and around
10:00 we reached Bali in about 1700 m
height. People were
still wandering around
and therefore we found a " 1/4 star Hotel"
where we could park, sleeping in Hotel de la JAMBO.
"What a terrible road, thank you Almighty, that we reached safely",
I thought before closing my eyes. The night was cool.
TUESDAY 30-3-2010
Now we could see where we
had stopped last night. The hotel had an
impressive facade. Inside it resembled an
army bunker, red
painted concrete floor, blue painted walls.
It was during a warm
coffee and some British square chewing gum bread, left over from Nigeria, when we
heard native music, drums in
staccato.
Curious, we followed the sound behind a
house, to find a group of young men
practicing cultural dances.
The 1/4 star hotel, impressive looking
our parking for the night
The group, we learned later, had performed
in Ghana and France, therefore they must be
good. Asked if they would for a small fee
dance for us, they agreed, if I join in. In
no time the costumes and masquerade
was brought, I dressed too. The Ndey, on
my ankles.
and the music started. It is
unfortunate that the rhythm cannot be
expressed in the web site. But we have it on
video record. It is a
dance of joy and
happiness. The dancers did their best.
The Ndey around
the ankles a fetter brush (Sang), to swing
in the rhythm, and trying to dance with the group.
.
I tried my best, however the coat was very
heavy
playing the drum (Motter) and blowing the trumpet
(Ntang) in
a deep sound, like the Swiss alphorns
The
Ntubong JUJU Dance, Bali Nyonga group.
It looks as if they were not that upset with
my performance. Me the Brunei woman
dancing in Cameroun a cultural dance, hopping in
rhythm... Who would have ever thought that?
Does it not proof for us Bruneians, a
lot is possible in every aspect of life. If we only want.
The final picture taken, you
see here.
Our flag together with the symbol of
Cameroun. A statement of friendship
friendship and cultural identity
Should you dear reader, wish to contact
them for further enquiries, this is their adress:
BALI
NYONGA, e.mail
ntumise@yahoo.com or waslisco@yahoo.com
By 9:00 am we are on route
to Baminda the main town in the North west
region and arrived an hour later. The air
was cool as the town
lies in the highlands.
Here we propose the Brunei Cameroun
highland estates. (Klick the Halal logo on
the main page). Bustling with
traffic,
we initially only stopped to get a car insurance.
Baminda. surrounded with rolling hills which
are farmed in the traditional way
Baminda on a regular day
"Where is Brunei?"
A fish stand attracted my attention, hungry as I was, I
ordered a mackerel with pepper sauce.
Price B$ 1.20.
The fried fish was delicious and in good
mood we set off south bound and down from
the mountains, towards Douala.
What is a SWIDISH haircut? It
seems the Cameroonians are fashioners when
it comes to hair
After we filled JAMBO with
fine TOTAL diesel and were on route towards
the south and Douala.
It is amazing, these guys are everywhere.
Surely, a great international company.
The farmers woman watches over TOTAL
on a roundabout, this gentleman
saluting travelers
Generally it was a tarred road
all the way. Our GPS is a proof; we are
almost at 2000 m.
Duoala we reached by night. A hot tip under
travelers is the German Seafarer home, where
we, directed by a taxi, checked in.
"You are
a lucky German" said the receptionist to Harun. We have one room left for you.
Clean room, clean bath, clean bed sheets
changed daily. No rumbling aircon, warm
water. All is functioning, Internet and
swimming
pool.
For 22,000 CFA a night, that is Euro 35.-.
We did not enjoy such a place since Morocco.
Praised be the people operating and
maintaining the European standards.
WEDNESDAY 31-3-2010
Today is JAMBO day. We noticed that the
steering was sluggish when coming down to
Douala yesterday night.
Therefore checking, we soon found out that
all spring rubber bushings were damaged due
to the rough road ride.
Leopold did a good job worn
out bushings, holding the spring and axle in
place
The reason were
the rubber bushings as you can see.
We replaced them in Morocco, but it seems it
was low quality rubber they used, and the
280 km border road, gave them the rest.
They mechanic is Leopold, he did a good
work. So should you, dear reader ever come
to this region and need help, he has
his "workshop" below the seafarer club, you can
see it from the veranda. Tel.96021052.
JAMBO is ready again for another sector
African roads, and we too.
Please include us in your prayer, we are
heading for the toughest sector of Africa.
THURSDAY 1-4-2010
We let Douala with mixed
feelings. How will it go? Eastbound we drove
all morning. Somewhere we stopped as
on the left side a palm
oil estate appeared . And next the
road, an Oil mill African style.
Step 1 collect the bundles and separate the
oil kernels on a grill from other debris
step 2 cook the kernels now in empty drums
on open fire take the soft
kernels and smash them through the hand
operated press,
collect the oil and fill in it drums. "How much oil
can you get a day?"
"We fill three drums a day. Said the headworker.
The press with the channel to collect the oil flow
pure money, we mean palm oil
Around 4:00 pm we reached
Yaoundé, in a thunderstorm, which we had to
wait out. From there we turned south towards
Gabon, and
stayed a night somewhere in a
village hotel.
FRIDAY 2-4-2010
GABON. We have a photo
problem. The travel book says, Gabonese do
not want pictures taken. Therefore with the
exemption of the
TOTAL, all were shot when
no one else was around.
We were early on the road again. By 11:00 we
had reached to border, completed the
formalities and we were soon after on Gabon
soil,
heading south on a fine tar road. Left
and right rainforest, as we know it back
home. Bamboo shaded the road from the
sunlight.
Rivers are rising, as rains have set in. The yearly cycle ensuring
evergreen and growth. Unfortunately logging
goes on, as timber is
cash. First the easy accessible trees, then the loggers chainsaw
follow him up hills, further and further.
They are after the big trees,
mighty standing now, crash down taking with them birds nests and a
200.000 creatures and insects, living in the
canopy.
The hornbill or eagle returning from afar will not find his home
again. Why are these companies not
stopped? Why do some of us
care so little for nature. Common sense does not count for them in
their ruthless greed. Corrupting the weak
for a timber license.
How could this be controlled ?
once home for 200.000 creatures
now on the way to foreign lands
We
drove until late last night, and checked
into one of the roadside hotels, an
establishment catering for the timber
workers. As such
was the room.
The "run downer" hotel
nothing but bush
SATURDAY 3-4-2010
We
went all day towards south, crossing
somewhere the Equator.
two shots for the history books
By
afternoon we reached Lambarene. Those of you
haven't heard about Albert Schweitzer's
hospital, this is his story. He was a
German Theologian, a Philosopher, Physician and Musician living
from 1875 to 1965. He received in 1952 the
Nobel Peace price.
Here he established the first hospital in 1913. Patients came
traveling hundred of miles to seek
treatment.
The
hospital lies on the great Ogooue river. Old
trees shade the large complex of flat
buildings. In the treetops nest flying
foxes.
Today they serve about 2000 patients said the director and
thank GOD, only 24 leprosy infected people
stay permanent. The Hospital
receives donations from all over the world, including Bill Gates.
They make research, and hope to be on the
market with a new malaria
medicine in three years. One, which is now under scientific
scrutiny.
The hospital
compound overlooks the great Ogooue river
Country flags actively involved
Flying foxes, hanging high up in the tees
Dr.Albert
Schweitzer; here he lived, worked, and is
buried. Truly a great man
One of the older buildings, which the great
man, Dr. Albert Schweitzer, had build
Spending not too much time we continued south bound, passed Mouila
village.
Mouila, nothing but a few houses
selling a catched beaver
Somewhere under a bridge we saw this construction to catch fish.
The river is blocked by rattan and the fish
is directed to swim into
the rattan channel. However at the very end the rattan channel
elevates out of the water and the fish is in
the dry, just to be picked.
There is sufficient gap in-between, that water will seep through.
entrance to the
channel
at the very end the channel is higher than
the water level
driving alone in the African bush
getting dark and not reached any settlement
Late afternoon we came to the border of
Congo, a village called Dousalla. The road
had been bad the last 50 km. No more tar as
we
used to enjoy. Lots of timber lorries, many driven by Chinese
drivers. They cut the forest, so it seems.
After the border, the road did not improve anymore and it got
worst. Once a while a small settlement, no
electricity at all.
curious,
but suspicious kids with self-made toys
Frequently passport checks by Police
gendarmerie and army. The security
situation is unstable. No wonder with this
kind of history.
This land of 342.000 sq km was subject to exploitation since the
Portuguese, who landed in Kongo in the 15th
century. demanding
slaves for their other colonies. Establishing trading posts they
"milked the interior for regular supply of
slaves.
Later in the 18th century a French plan divided the Congo
territories (including Gabon and the Central
African Republic) between
concessionary companies (remember the British doing the
same?). Then the railway was build to
Pointe-Noire in the 1920ties with
literarily forced workforce.
These harsh conditions created anti colonial feelings. The French
now worried "groomed" moderate politicians
to lead the country into
independence in 1960. Various overthrows followed and in the mid
1970 the leader this time a army officer
Captain Ngouabi, came
under pressure from French and other European "interests" to
organize the partition of oil rich Cabinda. But he failed and that
angered the French. So, he did not last. "Puff" made the gun,
and he was dead. Assassinated. A few other
would to be leaders
followed, creating civil war which cost ten thousands their
(miserable) life in 1997. Since then
occasionally fierce fighting continues
resulting in slaughtering of civilians by bullet or cheaper with
the" African symbol of manhood". That is the
three foot long bush knife,
the pride of of almost every man, ready to chop off a tree branch
or a head.
Knowing all this, it was a
time of worries.
By nightfall we
reached a village after the last police
check and the entry into their books. There was no light since the border. Not
even the police had one. We shine the
entries with our torch light.
It was meanwhile 9:30pm and we searched in the pitch-dark village for
a hotel.
getting dark and no place to stay
finally Hotel de la JAMBO under the trees
We
found the first hotel, a new house, and
someone was running along in the shine of
our headlights to open the doors. But no
light.
No generator too. It was still hot from the day. An elderly woman
commanded some others around. We tried to
make them
understand that we would park and sleep in the car and pay
something for. But this women, saw all the
money already and argued
in French or native tongue ( we could not understand) that we
should enter the hot and pitch-dark hotel,
as the only guests. Refusing
we drove onto the other side of the bridge where, supposed to be
another "fine village hotel". Dear reader,
try to search in a village
where you only see occasionally a kitchen fire burning, otherwise
nothing. Look for a hotel, which was in the
end only a long hut with
3 doors each leading to a square shaped hole, meaning room, and as
before, no light.
It took us a while searching. Some of the village folks came
meanwhile and the chief too, who was rather
a young guy. He wanted
10.000 France then we could sleep under a tree. "Too much" we
complained;" then we stay with the police."
That convinced him to
accept France 5000.- about Euro 8.- or B$ 16.-.
Although JAMBO was surrounded by villagers we closed the curtains
and fell quick into a dreamless sleep .
SUNDAY
4-4-2010
Before the village chief woke up and maybe demanded more money
"because we hear the birds sing, that cannot
be free of charge"
we started JAMBO and drove out of there. The road was a
terrible. Mud with deep holes, filled
with rain water. JAMBO looked as dirty
as it can be. The countryside was spectacular at one sector after
Kibango village, grassland and hills.
Hills, like manmade cones
However there is a problem. Once the timber
has been cut down, the elephant grass grows
two meter high- and is burned down by the
end of the dry season. Hence every young tree who got some hold, is
burned too. That is why there are no trees
seen. Only a few
specimen developed a bark strong and thick enough to survive the
heat of a bushfire. They are black burned,
but still green and
growing.
Young trees with
black bark
the road from the rooftop
Late afternoon we reached Dolisie town and gave JAMBO a
fine wash as the first thing to do.
The main road, tarred and smooth
JAMBO under water
We
were pleased as the town had tarred roads.
From here to Brazzaville the capital,
was only 360 km. We could make it in 5
hours.
That is what we thought. Then we met these Spaniards; since 4 month
on the road to the world cup in South
Africa. Unfortunately
they had lost their map. What to do? Photo our one, that was the
solution.
our Spaniards checking the routing out
"klick" and "klack" makes a photo map
Not
to loose time we were off towards the east
on the National road. No sooner we had the
city limits behind, the tar ended abruptly,
giving way to the meanwhile well known red soil with deep
depressions that the silencer bubbled under
water when crossing.
After 15 km we gave up. This bad road? No way man!
the road out of Dolisie towards Brazzaville.
Just washed JAMBO and look at it; now dirty
again!
We
returned to drive to Pointe Noire, the town
on the Atlantic sea. Here a new road
is under construction. By? Yes, the China
man.
Hill up and down, or
around; if needed through a village burial
ground as seen on the photos below.
Here, as in many countries the Chinese work
on infrastructure. The road to Pointe Noire
in the beginning wide, became soon a
nightmare, when we had to cross the mountains. Twice we had to wait
as trailers got stuck. First a container
trailer uphill.
stuck by the trailer
and at night
Then another trailer had two punctures and could not move. We
provided JAMBO light, that the guys could
work. By 10:00 pm they
got out of the way and we drove on. Not far, as was night and we in
the mountains -alone. But we did not care
much, as we were dead
tired and slept right into the morning.
MONDAY 5-4-2010
All has an end and also the road. By 9:00 am we reached the
outskirt and washed JAMBO again, ask for the
TOTAL office and went
with our clean car to their gate. Luckily, Mr. Christophe was
in. In no time he had for us an overnight
stay arranged. Off course dear
reader at no charge. We are talking here of TOTAL, not any greedy
Multi who looks only after their profits.
The TOTAL guys, as we
could see, care truly. They are an asset to our beloved Brunei.
Mr. Christophe Eon (Chef de Division
Ressources Humaines)
In front of their office in Pointe-Noire
Congo.
After many nights somewhere in rat holes or in JAMBO, we enjoyed a
cool room with a balcony view of the ocean.
Thank you TOTAL and Mr. Christophe for all you did.
A nice place to
stay a night and update our web site
JAMBO shiny as it can get
And while I attacked our dirty cloth, onlookers
followed our journey on the map. Surely and
respectful admiring our
achievement.
Tomorrow we leave early on the way through Cabinda, an Angolan
enclave, before we cross the DRC and the
Congo river. We have four
days to drive through Angola. The last strenuous challenge. Then on
is Namibia and the Kalahari. I look forward
to meet the Bushmen,
these kind and friendly people, the organized country, where
all still functions.
TUESDAY 6-4-2010
We
had a five days transit visa for Angola. Now
we got to transit Angolan Cabinda, where rebels
are now fight for
independence
and spare no lives if needed to get attention. "Why?" you may ask.
There is Oil and richness. It took only an
hour to reach the border,
chopping passports and carnet out from Congo and into Angola. It
was here we saw the Spaniards with their
white vehicle the last
time.
Their alternator fan belt was cut. Only confirming they were
alright otherwise, we moved on.
The border procedure took one hour, and we drove on Cabinda's
tarred roads. With us was a Lithuanian guy
on a heavy motocross
Kawasaki, packed high until his shoulder, which all sorts,
including tiers, what he thought is needed
to get to South Africa. The first
thing for us was, to get an insurance. Not that we might be ever
asked for, but in an expedition, one plan's
safe. All the time. The
seven days cost us US$ 144.- and two hours of precious time.
Precious, because we needed to get out of
Cabinda the same day, as
we had then four days left to cross Angola proper. (The Consul in
Abuja issues generally only 5 days visas).
Two hour later we
reached the border once more, it was meanwhile 4 pm afternoon.
Through the border again. But this time into Zaire. Sorry, no. Into
the Democratic Republic of Congo.
still a fine sand track to drive on
Oil, a reason to fight wars...
The
sandy track wound through the
grassland, with water filled depressions
where one get easily stuck. People on foot
both sides,
constantly waving to be picked up. One even showed us a bundle
cash, just to get a ride. ("I have money, I
pay you"). We could not
help, as JAMBO has only two seats. Lorries loaded with people,
happy to have found a way out of this
wasteland. The Kawasaki rider
who had passed us quickly at the border we met here again, after a
water filled hole. Spread out he had all
sorts of items in the
attempt to dry them. He, trying to steer swiftly his 60 hp
cross-country galloper through the
waterhole, was too lazy to check it out
first, and so as deep as it was, the machine, following the laws of
gravity sunk in the waterhole deep enough to
get stuck for good.
He, now until the hips in the mud water, waded ashore. "Twenty
dollars it had cost me to pull the machine
out" complained the perfect
motocross specimen.
Into this hole he sunk; see the machine on
the track behind?
"Are you alright? we asked. Although he seemed shaky, he confirmed
that. "Anything we can do for you?" "No. Or,
maybe water.
You have some?"
The cool bottle out of our fridge brought the smile back on his
sunburned face. " Are you sure you can go
on?" We were ready to help,
even if we had to load this machine on the roof rack of JAMBO and
tie him up there too. "Yes, thanks I'm
fine." It was the last time
we heard and saw of him. Two holes later we almost got stuck too.
Only our 4 W/D low gear and skill saved us.
Writing these lines in Namibia where we are now and knowing what we
went through, we think of the Spaniards, the
two guys and the
girl with their Skoda car. They will have to abandon the vehicle as
there is no way they make it ever through,
on this route. I felt sorry
for them, especially the girl. How easy and foolish young people
take risks without thinking of consequences.
Now we are in Congo? No, Zaire? No, it is the Democratic Republic
of Congo in short DRC, as American packed
Laurent Kabila (in
exchange mineral extraction rights) named it. It is another trouble
spot unsafe to visit. Unfortunately this
country with-still endless
forests has an ongoing civil war and is as such downright
dangerous. This country of 2.3 mio.
square kilometer had its own share of
trouble in the past.
It
were the Belgians, in detail King Leopold II
who laid claim to the vast region of Central
Africa, ratified by European powers in 1884.
As the "owner" he misused his power and the inhabitants were
subjected to the worst form of foreign
domination. When news leaked
out, he had to hand over the land to the Belgian Government. But
that changed little. Then came the 1950 ties
with all the other
independence movements, the control was only relaxed in 1959 when
Leopoldville (Kinshasa) saw riots;
Independence came the
following year.
One of the worst was General Mobutu; he held to power for 32 years
as the most destructive dictator of Africa.
He had mounted his
coup earlier. Then Laurent Kabila emerged with his ADLF. He broke
the grip of the Hutu militants responsible
for genocide in Rwanda.
Mobutus unpaid forces went on the obligatory rampage of rape and
pillage, as he had paid them with worthless
NZ 5.000.000 notes
which had a value, less than "shit-paper" as it was commented.
In 1997 Kabilas forces were in Kinshasa. Mobutu fled to Morocco,
(how much had he to pay from his ill-gotten
loot?) and Kabila
became president. Other rebel forces showed up and although a peace
accord was signed, fighting continued
without an end in sight.
This was the country and people, we were driving in now, trying to
traverse it as fast as possible. There are
two types of roads. Bad,
and very bad. People shouted at us, words we did not understand. We
never stopped, just go on. It became evening
and we came into
the vicinity of Boma a town on the Congo river. At a one-lane
bridge a rope spanned the dirt track halting
us. We paid the demand
without asking and they lowered the rope. Crossing the bridge the
first concrete houses were visible in our
headlights. No streetlights,
in fact no lights at all. Once a while a generator running at a
beer parlor. People sitting next to oil
lamps, and drinking. We asked for a
hotel. They laugh and shouted, so we drove on searching.
It was dark meanwhile, around 8:00 pm evening. Suddenly a bang
under the hood. "What was that?" I asked
Harun. "Maybe we hit a
stone which fly up." Within minutes the steering could hardly be
moved, only with extreme force.
By chance and divine intervention, so we believe, it happen now and
not before or after. We just managed
to drive to a closed gate of
the only
acceptable and relative safe hotel.
Forcing the steering wheel around, we drove into the protected
yard.
our hotel in Boma
safety grill up into the hotel and an iron
entrance door
WEDNESDAY 7-4-2010
The
morning daylight revealed the trouble. The
power steering box seals had given way.
Hammering through the roads of Gabon and
Congo took his toll. We had another steering box with us, right
from the Kota Kinabalu, Indah Jadi shop, it
was a matter of
replacement.
US 50.- they mechanic wanted. We offered US 20,-, which was
accepted. But things are not easy especially
in the DRC. The screw
holes did not fit properly and had to be enlarged. "That cost 8000
franc (US$ 9.-), we do it in the machine
shop. And 500 franc for
transport." That all happen at 9:00 am. By 1:00 pm noon none of the
mechanics had come back.
By 2:00pm a man with the steering box in hand showed up. We looked
at the screw holes. Only one was enlarged
with a file and as
such the box did not fit. They never went to a machine shop. "Give
the money back?" We demanded as all was a
cheat, to rip us off
some funds. "We paid all to the machine shop". Insisted the guy.
Harun went now with two of them to another
shop on the outskirt of
the town, the holes were enlarged, he paid another 8.000 franc and
the box was installed. US$ 20.- went to the
mechanic for
installation. One cannot fight these guys. "Born dishonesty"
commented Harun.
waiting for the steering box
the mechanical gang
The
"new" second hand box did not leak which was
good news. Otherwise...
"We have 24 hours water" insisted triumphal the Hotel Manager when we
arrived. But this was wishful thinking as
the tap was bone-dry.
After much complain to the owner, a fat guy behind a fat table, we got
another room, this time with water. Cost US$
50.- a night.
The country has two currencies, one being the US$. Their own paper
money issued in Notes of 500 and below, is
of little use.
Moneychangers sit at the roadsides with staples of Congolese franc
before them.
a Moneychanger with bundles of
franc
the note is worth about US$ 0.50
The town was frightening, the people too. Walking was scaring, but
we had to get some funds in a bank which we
needed for Angola.
US$ 200.- against the Visa card. I refused to provide the Pin
number which the bank guy initially wanted.
We took Ely the security man of the hotel with us when we went out.
Dreadful these roads. See the main road of Boma town? See the
drains?
We photo in secret with the pocket camera.
The roads and gutters of Boma
Eli the security guard with us
selling cloth on
the road
a main street
What else can we report to you honorable
reader except negligence and poverty? In a
lengthy discussion with the "24 hours water"
manager he reveled the state of politics. "Nothing is happening? he
said. No work for the people, non in
infrastructure, no electricity,
no roads. People drink; one see them in afternoon with beer already
if they have some money. Sex is cheap. A
whore cost US$ 1.-.
The politician only enrich themselves and send the money overseas.
But next year is election" he said with a
serious look. "And there
will be civil war; you will see". He shrugged his shoulders.
I did not comprehend. "Why does the outside world hear only bad
news from the DRC? I come from a country,
where the common
policeman does not even carry a gun. We have peace. in Brunei, And here?
Harun seeing my face and reading my thoughts said:" Man became
worst than animals. The raping of women and
children is a
common occurrence besides killing, looting and burning, and that
make me wonder, if these people are humans
at all. Humanity is
more than eating, walking, drinking and following the lowest
desires without regards of feelings, love,
affection and faith.
That is, what the UN thinks about them.
THURSDAY 8-4-2010
By 7:00 am we drove out, towards Matadi, a larger town on the Congo
river about 200 km away. There exists a
bridge spanning the
river; allowing us to go on towards Angola. We had fueled the evening
before.
Matadi town on
the other river side and the bridge
Neither the Spaniards nor the Motocross man
was seen anymore and driving up into the
mountains, we wondered how could the
Michelin map declare the road picturesque, while there was nothing
except some huts, sacks with charcoal for
sale, and a narrow
pothole road. Then we reached the gigantic river, squeezing himself
through a narrow gorge, where the bridge
spanned it graciously.
Congo river
the Matadi suspension bridge
It was 12:00 noon when we reached the border of DRC/Angola. The
small post consisting of a few old flat
buildings, offices of the ever
important authorities. Dirty benches, old paint on the wall,
scribbled over with notes. No light bulb on
the ceiling. A fan which was not
working. We waited for the chef of Immigration. Such "important
people" as us, a common officer could not
let out of the DRC. This
must be the boss himself. With 500 Kwanza, about US$ 6.- the
Angolan money we "greased his elbows" and
one hour later we enter
our JAMBO, got to the barrier which was closed.
"Open the car!" one of the 5 civilians
demanded. "What for, it was inspected by the
custom officer further down. He crawled even
into
it, to open all lockers" said Harun. Without any identification
they demanded to inspect JAMBO. Who are
these people anyhow?
Thieves? Self appointed artifact protectors on the heels of
smugglers? Drugs chasers ? Harun went back
to the immigration boss. He
should do something for the money we gave. "let them inspect the
car" was all what he said.
At least, they were no crooks. We open the door for one guy who
crawled in to see what is in our bench
compartments, while Harun
complained; "Tourists! We are tourists!" They were out for some
money, all five of them. But bad luck,
nothing from us. After a few
minutes they let us loose and with a sour face one open the barrier
to let us through to the other side and out
of the DRC. Angola was
now only a few meters away.
ANGOLA
The land has seen more that its fair share of civil wars. In 1999
the UN declared Angola as the worst country
for children to grow up.
Land Mines still scatter the country and guerilla warfare flairs up
here and there, although fighting had
stopped in general.
Completing the immigration procedures with 1/2 hour we went on,
pushing, pushing. We had to be out of Angola
on the fourth day.
And we did not know anything of the roads except what was in the
internet. Vague reports of travelers which
went through, years
back. Over roads as seen in the pictures we drove into the evening,
planning to be in N'zeto, a town on the
coast by nightfall. The map
showed, she was only 260 km away.
the dirt track for 260 km
sometime mud came over the bonnet
see these tracks, no traffic at all; we were
tensioned
No
other vehicle for 3 hours was seen and yet
there must be someone traveling as there
were tire marks. At one time up on a hill
suddenly there was perfect tar and wide at least 8 meter. We drove
on with deep relieve. Now the road will be
good. But what is this?
There was an abrupt end with grass growing. "It is bush
runway" said Harun. "Oh yeh".
Sometimes we could follow the road direction for a mile ahead.
Sometimes there were
curves and we did not know what to expect
around the bend.
But all has an end. After hours around 6 pm the road got wider,
someone had worked on it, even if it was a
few years back, it gave
hope.
The night crawled in as every day and we were still driving. Then
we came to a
village in complete darkness.
A few people
on the road. "How far to N'zeto?" This is N'zeto". We had arrived.
On the way we thought of
a promenade; perhaps a restaurant where we
could eat some
fresh fish. Instead we found a small town completely in the dark.
"Hotel?" Go around the next road, there is a
hotel.
We found it easily as it was the only one with light.
The night cost US$ 60.- demanded another big, fat woman, the owner.
She agreed finally on US$ 50.- and we
checked into the
establishment, at peace with ourselves after the iron doors had
closed behind us and JAMBO. The night we
slept in a bed satisfied
with our progress from Boma to N'zeto.
JAMBO and we at the Hotel
one of many bullet ridden and burned
out buildings
"Why is there no electric in the town", we
asked a man." Politics" was all he
commentated. The generator was shut in the
night and
did not come back again. "Madam there is no electric"
complained Harun in the morning to the owner
woman standing in the door.
"You owe us money" She turned around and was not seen anymore.
FRIDAY 9-4-2010
We were on the way along the coast towards south, to Luanda, the
capital. Only 260 km away. easy we thought,
that is maybe five
hours.
It
became seven dreadful bumping, jumping hours
on a dirt track. The country had been long
depleted from its rainforest and now
grassland dominates the landscape. We were scared to go for a
relieve into the grass because of mines.
Thinking, "where would
someone plant these? Next to the road off course."
views on the road, as you see no electric
high walls both sides of the road
and waste of money
Somewhere we had to fuel, the girls sold the
diesel for twice the price. But we decided
not to tap our reserves, keeping them for
Namibia where the prices are exorbitant.
she drunk a sip
before the diesel flow
Nice rock formations
Which is the
better way?
We reached the outskirt of Luanda by 2
pm. Again, many burned out flats, all over.
spoils of civil war
a promising sign
Then it took us 3 hours to get through. The
traffic was very bad.
The boulevard of
Luanda; one see's the Portuguese influence
Port of Luanda
Replenishing our water reserves we were on
the way south and out of the capital. It was
meanwhile 6 pm and the sun sunk into the
sea.
Sunset in Angola
The
tar road was good. Our extra halogen lights
provided sufficient shine to oppose the
headlights of cars from the other direction.
It was around 10 pm we turned into a truckers parking lot, next to
a local restaurant. "Yes we could sleep
there in our car" said the
servant. I looked around. A few truckers and plenty prostitutes to
serve any man's desires. Luring the truckers
cash out of their
trousers crouch for a token. What a dirty and fitly scam. But we
had no choice, dead tired we slept a sleep
of a baby after 16 hours
on the road.
SATURDAY 10-4-2010
The
watch showed 5:20 am when we started
JAMBO turned south on the tarred road. Today
we had to reach Lubango town, over 800
km away, then we would have another 400 km tomorrow for the final
part in Angola, as it was the last day of
our visa.
Believe you me, dear reader we drove. The first 400 km fine tar
which abruptly ended, giving way to a
potholed dirt track. The Michelin
map showed a fine tarred road. "I hate these misinforming
cartographers." I burst out.
it cannot get better
a village on the slopes
We
still found time to shoot such pictures,
sometimes from the driving car. Clouds
feather light and a sky in pastel blue color
fine road and
landscape
and granite mountains like the Mt. Kinabalu
But all that should soon change. While the country view was spectacular, the road was unfortunately
spectacular bad.
the river
and...
.. the metal
bridge spanning it
slippery clay surface
here I raised
the flag of my beloved Brunei in
Angolan land. She had traveled far.
The
evening came with extraordinary colors and
light, therefore we stopped a moment.
a cloud like on
a nuclear blast
thank you "great one", that we could see this
splendor
After 18 hours at 11 pm, we had not
reached Lubango, our destination of today.
But we stopped for the night at the
roadside.
Come what may, we thought and slept through the night. Waked by the
sound of a motorcycle in the early
hours. A local man came
to look.
SUNDAY 11-4-2010
By 7:30 am, we were already 1 1/2 hours on
route, then only we entered Lubango. From
now on the road was to be good. But again
the map was lying. The first 200 km yes, then it was under
construction with all the diversions
necessary. Dust and holes and two
events. Firstly we saw some birds cozying on the back of a donkey.
obviously the
donkey knew what was going on and he liked
it.
The second event was an elderly couple of Himba people. We invited
him to show us his hunting skill with the
bow.
The Himba
without okra, still proud and independent
Well as the saying goes, all has an end. By 3 pm we were 70 km away
from the border, enough time to rescue a
chameleon from
certain dead while he (or she) intended to cross the road; and pull
thorns out of Haruns foot.
He danced the fire dance that painful it was. " That comes from
bare feet walking" I warned. How true was my
commend.
Chameleon
facing the music
punishment Harun deserves?
The border crossing was swift, a few
hustlers only trying to cheat by changing
Angolan Kwanza into Namibian dollars.
Then we rolled
on Namibian soil.
Next to the border a whole Chinese village selling
all sorts of goods for the Angolan
clientele. We felt a big, big relieve.
It was a heavy stone falling from the shoulders. In good mood now,
we washed JAMBO, and two hours later checked
into a camping
ground for the first sound and safe sleep in weeks. The birds
chirped long into the night. "What a
wonderful world that is" I thought,
before I knew nothing anymore.
the pond of the
campground. It means allot to us to
see civilization and roses again
MONDAY 12-4-2010
We stay today here to update the web site and wash all worries
away.
The remaining few thousand kilometers should
be trouble free. We, now through Africa's
worst countries thank you all for your
prayers
which helped, that we are sure. We
only hope that the Spaniards in their
innocence will make it through or get out
without serious
sickness or trouble.
Our
route.
We are in
Namibia
TUESDAY 13-4-2010
We are heading today to Northwest Namibia to
film and photo the HIMBA and the landscape more
intensively,
to understand their
culture. The best bet is Opuwo town in the far north west of Namibia.
It took us 3 hours to reach the town, a
small settlement. Tourists come here mainly
because of the HIMBA people.
(We too.)
And put up for the night in our traditional
"Hotel de la JAMBO"
WEDNESDAY 14-4-2010
We were early on the way, passing the last houses, the gravel road north
into HIMBA country.
On the road waiting for the tourists money She is a beauty, not yet married
The Himba have already realized that going
in traditional style, bare breasted and a
goatskin around their lower parts, money can be
made. Every photo cost. Not much though,
but it is something. Usually US$ 1.-.
Then there are the HERERO women too;
oversized, but neatly dressed.
Herero Tribes
with Otjikava dress
Unique is their headdress resembling a
Matadors hat from a bullfight out of
Barcelona.
From where
they took this is not known although there
are speculations.
We drove out of town into Kaokoland, to find
a village where we could learn more about
the HIMBA.
Beautiful Kaokoland
where the HIMBAS and their cattle reign
And we were lucky. There was a village and a
school. A few people around only, as the HIMBA moves with the cattle he owns,
along
grazing sites.
the first huts in a Kraal
a girl
A "HIMBA
villa"
and the storage for grain
This yard is surrounded
by a natural fence, which is also home for their
animals. Here are they kept for safety. The
ground is full of
manure hence very soft. The HIMBAS go bare feet. They could make easy
veggie gardens; that fertile is the soil.
Ready to do business.
Within minutes the village folks had
gathered and brought out whatever they
thought is of interest to us.
Especially the young
woman was very stiff in pricing. We could
not get a discount in the few items we
bought.
This bracelet, worn by women
around they ankles is made from screw nuts.
Each and everyone is a small nut, and a
hundred on a
string are quiet heavy.
The man's hairstyle indicates he is married.
whereas the boy with the lizards style
headdress tells everyone, that he is single.
A clear
distinction.
married
still single
We were allowed to enter a round hut. The
entrance is very low and I could not stay
upright.
The center is the cooking place where there
is a piece of metal and a pot.
Around the wall sit the people,
sleeping is done on a cowhide. There is no
mattress.
A few possessions placed around the wall,
like baskets and ornaments and nothing else.
the woman is married indicated by her hair
dress
this is one of her girls, again see the
small iron nuts
Haruns hat was high in
demand and the video too. Not shy at all
they looked into the screen realizing
themselves being filmed. It
was something the HIMBA woman liked.
The proud and self-confident HIMBA women
Next by was a one room school, small but
children could learn and since the teacher
was around we could get some information
The school has 20 students in
the age between 6 and 18 years. One
classroom. They learn simple English,
reading, writing and a
little math's. Better than nothing, I
think.
All
boys, realized on the hairstyle
playing a in Brunei common game
The classroom
two student boys
Although teachers youth has passed; she is
not shy at all
The pupil, a young girl with a unique
hairstyle
A happy photo with the flag, the symbol of
our nation
But the camera lens
reviled what maybe is easy overlooked.
"Cleanness"
Before sleep tonight, wash your feet boys
and girls!
Time was pressing us and we
had to leave these kind people. It took us
two hours back to Opuwo. On the roadside we
saw the
grave of an important chief. The
symbol of his power was the bullhorns
staffed on poles. He had even a small obelix,
originating once in Egypt.
The graveyard of chief VAATAMO VENDENTURA
Somewhere we stopped again as the girl waved
us. We tipped her and a few apples changed
owner. Then we said, we would not halt
anymore, as we had still a three hours drive
to our overnight camp. Tomorrow we are
heading south via the Etosha pan National
park.
You are the last HIMBA girl, we picture; now we say "bye bye" and good luck
to you and your tribe.
THURSDAY 15-4-2010
By 6.30 am, JAMBO was already on the road to
Etosha National Park. We planned to camp a
night there on our way to the south.
Etosha means "great white place", it is an
area of 22912 square km, four times as large
as Brunei. And yet when it was founded by
the Germans, hundred years ago, who happen
to be the colonial power those days back, it
had four times the size, namely 80.000
The pan itself, the "great white place"
covers some 4700 square km. Animals roam
freely, nature takes it's course.
 e
the Etosha pan
the dots in the flat pan are animals
Waterholes have been dug along the main
gravel roads and in the dry season, animals come to drink, and tourists by the
busloads,
to see them. A package deal
include the flight from Europe to Windhoek,
transfer to the site for game viewing.
Two camp exist within
the park and only two
entrances. However, there are a number of
lodges outside the border and within
vicinity, wide open for the tourist
dollar.
These are exquisite camps where an overnight
stay cost easily US$ 250.-.
We, humble people and on sponsorship safe
funds where we can, and therefore our "Hotel
de la JAMBO" was home here too.
It were the Germans hundred years ago, who
created this marvel of Nature and wildlife conservation
Stripped Mongoose
JAMBO attracted immediate attention; "Look
is that possible? They come from Brunei?"
As
usual, the stripped mongoose are always in
search for something the nibble on. They run
in the parking lot free around. On the
way
to HALALI camp where we intend to stay, we
saw various animals grazing. Not bothered by
vehicles passing. They are used to
them.
Zebra
and Giraffe
Gemsbok
Blue wildebeest
FRIDAY 16-4-2010
While we had
breakfast the squirrel showed up. Curious
she crawled in and out, looking into every
corner. Did she want to nest? Or -
maybe-what we suspected; only some food?
 
"What the heck came here into my
domain? I got to check it out, maybe there
peanut butter or some thing else to feed
on."
Antelopes have right of way in the park
there were hundreds of Springbucks on one
area
Helmeted guinea
fowl on the road
A graceful Kori Bustard
This warran or large lizard moved at the
road side when we passed. Strange is,
we did not find his description in our book.
Southern Hornbill on the road and next to it
in the bushes
A word to those, who think, hunting and
killing is exiting. You follow the instincts
within you, which we have inherited from the
animal
world. True humanity is, to overcome
them! Come to Etosha and shoot! But with a
camera. This is an intact world not yet
destroyed
by stupidity carelessness or
greed.
our camp place once a green lawn
one of the last flowers seen
The park is now under black Namibian
management. Sorry but a little complain from
us, travelers of many nations.
Three years back we stay here. Those days
the camp was green, irrigated. Now all is
gravel. Gravel is easy to maintain. Just put
it
there. Only a few patches of grass
remain. Is this part of a habit of the black
man, not to care much?
"In general, they have no feeling for beauty
or caring and cleanness" said one white
farmer. We did not dare to answer. However
what
we had seen around the equators where the blacks govern their
own people, brings truth into his words.
At 9:00 am, JAMBO with us was already
running southbound, passing the town of
OUTJO, turning at KHORIXAS south to Brandberg
mountains. The highest point is
named Koenigstein, a famous Bavarian
mountain, the German word meaning Kings
stone. Why we
came? The reason is the WHITE
LADY and other ancient paintings, made of
5000 years ago by bushmen.
And we camped in a lodge with the same name.
It seems this famous white lady was the
attraction in the region and we were keen to
see her. Was she a painting with distinct
bodily features, could we recognize perhaps
a face? We did not expect to see Mona Liza or
a Tizan painting. But something
tangible, making the hike of over an hour
worthwhile.
We arrived in the lodge late, another clean
neat place under German ownership, and
searched for a place to sleep; the
headlights
directing us. The campground was
located within large trees, had an open air
toilet and a heated shower. Nothing was
missing. Some
tourists from Germany,
with their rented 4x4's parked nearby. They,
sitting in camping chairs under the stars
close to their campfire,
chatting, nipping
on a glass of wine before retiring up into
the rooftop tent on their respective
vehicles. Laughter was flying over to us.
It
was a peaceful atmosphere, full of
tranquility.
SATURDAY 17-4-2010
And the view in the morning!
Close to paradise; this is nectar for the
eyes!
The morning light revealed the camp site.
You see the red sleeping bag on top?
a good rest inside JAMBO
While Harun preferred to sleep on the roof
rack under the stars, I kept it safe in our
"Hotel de la JAMBO". One never know what may
fly around at night. May be a bat and perhaps
tangle in my hair.
Toilet. "Two at
a time" the firewood water heater
This pictures reveal the open air African
shower and toilet. How convenient. No extra
fan is needed to get the unpleasant odor out
from
the place of comfort. No roof
guarantees always fresh air. For what a
roof? It never rains here. And should an
unwanted thunder
escape the white backside, the sound is directed not
back to the camping place, where the
girlfriend, perhaps hearing it would
be
displeased; but rather upright into the
sky and to the heavens. Therefore one could,
fresh and free let out of the body what want
to
escape. After all, every prisoner likes
to be free.
Watching the morning visitors one could see them in
"urgent" steps not looking left and
right, the one or other almost running,
towards
the toilet. Eager to perform on the "open air
stage" and after a while coming back
whistling a song in good mood. The morning
breeze
took the stink into Namibia's
plains, noticed perhaps only by some close
flying birds. Only the domesticated Suricate in search for
a place where he had
-with is long claws- not dig a hole yet,
must have come into the drift of a strong
poop, as it seems he decided
to pack out and
stroll away.
"Uihhh what
smell is this?"
"I better leave"
Have said this, the shower and toilet were
spotless, clean with paper rolls and warm
shower water. A luxury in Nigeria's 3 star
hotels,
where we had to ask the reception
for toilet paper. Harun then angrily: "Do
you not clean yourself after toilet?" The
woman said
nothing.
But now was morning, the white lady only 14
km away, we packed out and drove to the
entrance of the Brandberg park.
The hike was about 1½ hours until the
"white lady" panel. It was hot the sun shone
from the bright sky. The higher we
came the
better was the view out into the
valley. Sweating and exhausted we reached
the place. "Here it is" said the guide with
pride, as if it
was he, who painted these
pictures.
The "Panel was a flat vertical stone 3 m
high and 8 m long. On it were figures,
animals and humans hunting and dancing
scenes and
a figure half white.
The mystery panel of paintings
a drawing of an animal " a Kudu"
sitting human
group dancing
a man with bow and arrow?
A white and black hunting scene
white Giraffe
with red face
bush dog?
And finally we saw her. Yes above is
the picture. A human figure with bow and
arrow, seemingly running. All less
than 30 cm high.
"This mystical white figure is a shaman in trance. He has danced
around a fire therefore his legs are full of
ash at this moment he see
the underworld..." the guide told us .
How does he to know that? What a crap-story he made up. If you look
at the Kudu drawing, the head is also in
white. Did the Kudu
stick his head into the fire? Or was the giraffe rolling in it?
Or is this the
white lady? Seen on another panel. A cave where bushmen had been living
This was bushman art; so far so good. But was it excellent work?
Just think about Egypt; what was build and
pained there at about
the same time. Or Greece.
We left the White lady a bit disappointed. Anyhow, the landscape
justified the walk and sweat.
Early afternoon we were on our way to the coast, 114 km westward.
Coming closer, the air was cooler, as a
result of the cold sea.
poles in the air
and the trail of JAMBO
The
gravel road was straight and good to drive
on. The telegraphic masts seem to raise on
the horizon into the air and the road ending
in a sea. But it was a Fata Morgana.
An hour later we had reached the dunes.
And what did we see there? Leaning masts.
There must have another tragic event
occurred.
Where man and mouse drowns. Death in a cold sea. We decided to
drive there at once and investigate.
A fishing trawler was it. Almost driven up the sandbar. The seamen
together with captain could walk to shore
with dry feet. Aha,
another insurance fraud perhaps? But what about the oils in engine
and transmission? The environment?
"Lock the responsible persons away for 25 years, or let him
clean beaches for the same time" would any
concerned commoner
demand.
Along the cold shores are sand dunes for hundred of kilometer. On
steep slopes, like in the picture, the
locals from SWAKOPMUND
town, make fun by gliding down.
But we turned land inwards again, crossing the Gaub pass towards
Solitaire settlement. We needed fuel.
The evening came, then night and we drove a gravel road in the
mountains, completely alone. The last
daylight showed us some
hungry desert foxes searching for some mouse holes.
thin desert foxes on search for a thin
desert mouse
early morning view
Coming down the pass on the other side about
8:30 pm, we were directed by a signboard to
the ROSTOK RITZ, and turned in, as
ROSTOK was a German town and seemingly the owner was German too.
Dear reader who values music, no not "chinderassa bum bum" of a
military band, or the whining love songs or
hard rock. We mean
classical music. Here in Namibia we entered the foyer of the RITZ
asking for a camp place to sleep. From a
large room, build like a
gigantic cave with curved ceilings sounded Mozart. People were
dining in candlelight, fine dressed. Three
European women played
live. A cello, a violin and a piano. Harun got tears into his
eyes that moved he was. We asked for the
permission to stay and listen,
before driving down to the campsite 6 km away.
"This is culture" he said. "Two month we did not hear such music".
As the RITZ a six star Lodge, the camp was also neat and clean.
From a Veranda we could overlook the land
and JAMBO our
companion. Harun use to sleep on the roof rack under the stars. "It
make me realize, how small and unimportant
we are" .
SUNDAY 18-4-2010
the early
morning light
every A roof hut has
a fireplace
A sunrise view from the veranda over
the land
Early morning we continued our journey westwards to reach a
settlement named Helmeringhausen.
We needed cash
and fuel. Arriving, we went to the petrol station, hoping they would have an ATM or would
at
least fuel with a credit card. I
swapped my card twice for N1000.-
(US$ 130.-) and we did not know if it was debited or not, since it
was Sunday, and the bank is closed.
Worried we arranged with the fuel station operator, that he might
send us the money, if my card was debited.
He would check that on
Monday morning. With the last cash we went to a coffee shop
opposite on the same street to have a little
bite.
Not 10 minutes there, Corne van Zylt the station gentleman came and
said: "Look why do you not sleep tonight at
my farm? Then
tomorrow morning I call the bank and we know if your card was
debited." We declined first, as we did not
wanted to burden him, but
he insisted and therefore we drove out to Corne's farm, which is, by
every account a large estate. 7000 ha land
he owns .
Raising goats, cattle and sheep.
This hundred years old farm house became our home for a night. We,
the strangers were allowed to stay there
alone in a fully
equipped place. Even the water was heated by an oven from outside.
Floor and ceiling was in wood, imported from
Germany hundred
years ago. Those days back, there were no roads. All was brought on
oxcart from the coast over 100 km away.
Every plank, every
nail, every panel of glass. They were truly pioneers.
The kitchen in
pioneer style
living room with fireplace
The ceiling, all panels imported and carried
inland
a bathtub for Harun's size, and our
"steel wire" brush for the tough dirt
Door to the
veranda
a good sleep without spirits or ghosts
disturbing
Looking to the left, Corne's property, looking to the right for 10
km, still his land. Below in the valley was
a graveyard of Germans.
Harun showed his reference with a silent prayer for their souls.
The last rest of young men caught up in war
Four of many Germans, who fell here in
Deutsch Suedwest Afrika
We
made a short tour through his land,
inspecting some livestock. Sheep are counted
by the hundreds.
The owner ahead
in a land rover
how many sheep are in the kraal?
Corne is lucky as he has a small stream of fresh water in the
otherwise dry land.
He intend to develop it into an camping lodge. The idea in mind to
enlarge the pond, that folks can swim in it.
He would have surely
the only campsite with such facility for 100 miles.
That is him on the station
and here with his daughter
We allow ourselves to direct the last words to him the gentleman
with thrust. To his kindness, a virtue not
found easily in our world.
"We the travelers of many countries and many more miles value your
gesture very much. We appreciated your offer
to sleep in your
home. Although we were strangers of whom you know nothing. 'Thank
you very much" we say one more time and
perhaps, after we
have completed our around the world travel, just perhaps, we will
knock on your door one day. Not as strangers
but as friends."
"You know where to find me" said he. What else can one expect from
such a man?
MONDAY 19-4-2010
My card was not debited, that confirmed a phone call to the bank.
We were on route to Fish River Canyon, the
last stop before we
leave Namibia. Reaching before nightfall we drove straight down to Ai Ais resort, to sleep as usual in our "Hotel
de la JAMBO." The
apartment block of weaverbirds amazes me again. How does these
birds know which hole is it to fly in?
The weaverbird
"apartment block" with many rooms and no
nametag
Beautiful
NAMIBIA; Landscapes on
route
TUESDAY 20-4-2010
Today is the Fish River Canyon on our program. A huge gasp in the
earth. We arrived late and drove straight
down to the bottom, to the
Ai Ais
resort an elegant establishment. Here I met
Rosita. 1m98 was she from top to bottom, but
she took her oversize lightly and was
cheerful ready for a photo.
Ai-Ais resort
What, if she gets a husband of my size?
WEDNESDAY 21-4-2010
The morning was brisk and clear. slowly the
sun came over the mountains, bringing some
warmth. We had our breakfast table next to
JAMBO, who parked under a tree. The birds
were immediately around, as at breakfast
that they have learned, is always something
for
them too. The young one did not bother
at all and sat on Harun's big toe to check
the food supply, and jumped to the ground
only
when I dropped a few crumbs.
But we did not waste much time and were by
830 am already on the way to the viewing
point about 60 km away.
In sun shine, the rocks get warm immediately
Arid Namibian land
the road to the viewpoint of the... ...fish river canyon
It was a place re-visited, as we had been
here in 2007. Nowhere else in Africa is
there anything like this. This gorge is
dramatic and
enormous with a depth of 550 m.
The close up shows how high
the rush water rises
here these hikers admired our journey and
Brunei
"We must visit you in your green paradise"
said Antjie the girl with the yellow skirt.
"welcome" I said:" But only next year, then
we are
back; and bring all your friends
along for a Eco tourist adventure in our
green and lovely nation." And you dear
reader notice that our
front number plate
was hammered away somewhere in a desert
storm. Now only a self-made paper plate
indicates to the policeman,
that we are
from a foreign land.
I caught my hubby, Harun in deep thoughts,
he was sitting there for a half hour or so,
only looking.
"Let's have a good meal" said he after
a while, raising up. We searched and found
this stone table. My kitchen provided the
Fish river
canyon exquisite cuisine. A tin
of Chili tuna from Brunei, a local bread,
mineral water, and a few pickled cucumbers.
This sign we
found on the beginning of the fish river
trail. A sad reminder of carelessness, but
especially for me, knowing, how the
splendor
of Kampong Air was spoiled by our hands. I
remember the times we could swim there in
clean water. Why is our population
there so
careless, so thoughtless? How much plastic
floats in the river, plastics where no
living thing can thrive on?
Kampong Air became a scum, a shame for
Brunei.
the object a quiver tree
the photographer
and the results a "rhapsody in blue"
wild Ostriches on the run
a Nama, colored slit eyed original Namibian
We left this beautiful land via Grunau town another German word, and
border post Noordoewer to enter South Africa
the last of the
African Countries with many
thoughts of its future. This fragile
environment needs proper care. What we saw
is still intact, but where
the "black man"
took charge, specially in the national park,
the facilities start to deteriorate. It
seems to us that they do not bother
much and
are not disturbed if a water pipe leaks or
the stone floor has broken out pieces,
or grass does not grow. These are small
but
unfortunate things, indicating thy are not
used to beauty and perfection.
The population is gradually changing. Still
on farms work the colored, original
inhabitants of Namibia. But the black
tribes, often rude,
from lands around the
equator , push southwards for better life as
their leaders are corrupt, all of them, do
not give a dam about their
population.
But Africa is not black, not the
North, there are Arabs, (protected by the
Sahara from the black tide), nor the South.
There are indigenous people, who have
together with the whites kept the land
intact, protected it, preserved its beauty.
Now, beautiful
Damaraland is divided
by the Government into hunting concession.
For money. An act no white or colored
minister will grant. The
present minister is
black. "How many concessions got his
relatives? We do not know. Shoot out the
free animals against cash. Why
not hunt the
minister?" Said angry the farmer. Gradually
they destroy what has been build over a
century. "This black government
does not
care, it is only money" Said he.
Another troubling spot in the future is
land, belonging to the white farmers. There
are attempts to confiscate it, like in
Mugabe's
Zimbabwe. The blacks come down
south by the thousands in search for a
better life, being already the majority,
voting for the
SWAPO.
That must be stopped, they repatriated into
their respective lands, borders sealed like
the EU or USA. SAVE NAMIBIA! is
the call.
And so, with deep thoughts we enter South
Africa where once the Apartheid this
inhumane system flourished, and what -
according
to news reports became a haven for
crime and uncontrolled influx of black
foreigners by the millions. Adverts of a
newspaper offer us
a glimpse into the
mindsets of the black man in general (with
exceptions of course).
Classified
ads by the hundreds in local newspapers
These people full of suspicion and sheer
stupidity are voting for a responsible
government? Can they? Or do we see we here the
uselessness
of a democratic system?
Dear reader if you want to know more you got
to click South Africa where we
encounter the the influx of black men on a
large scale
and the effects we saw, it
has on the population.
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