Welcome to Africa

[Calvin Kent]

I'm not a writer, I paid my subs to the NUS not the NUJ but wanted to share a memory

We were anchored somewhere up the Bonny River in the Niger Delta. A dozen or so canoes were hanging around the stern and we were under orders to turn the fire hoses on them if they tried to come aboard. It was morning smoko and someone untied the top lashing on a gash bin and all hell broke loose as the locals dived into the water fighting each other for galley scraps. One canoe containing a woman and four or five children stayed to one side obviously unwilling to endanger the kids. Myself and Marty the Messman got her attention and she paddled the canoe along the port side where we could talk. Somehow, without her understanding a word of English we managed to convey we wanted to go ashore after work and with a deposit of a bar of best buttermilk and some plastic toys out of the corn flakes it was arranged she would return after dark.

True to her word she returned just as the sun went down and Marty and I slid down a rope into the canoe. As we paddled toward a small tributary the sunset over the jungle was spectacular, oranges and reds streaking the sky. And then it was dark, very, very dark. The ship was out of sight, the canopy was almost meeting above our heads, and when the drums started up I was starting to brick it. There was no shore leave as there was nowhere to go and even if there was it was supposedly too dangerous. Almost immediately there was a jarring lift and the prow of the canoe ran up the bank. Our lady driver signalled we had arrived so we handed over the packet of washing powder, gave her a couple of packets of biscuit as a tip and disembarked.
We were on terra firma but that was as far as our knowledge went. We could see a glimmer of light ahead of us so felt our way in that direction until we came up against a hut. Apparently we had been set down in someones garden and had to go through the hut where a family was cooking their evening meal to reach the village proper. They looked astonished to see us but politely waved us through. Finding ourselves on a track we stood for about thirty seconds wondering what we had got ourselves into. There was the odd oil lamp for illumination but we couldn’t make out anything except the outlines of falling down shacks. Suddenly, out of nowhere came children. Dozens and dozens of ragged children all eager to guide us where-ever we wished to go. By dint of signing we got across we wanted the town centre so off we set like a pair of reverse pied pipers.

Somewhere before the centre which in reality was two wider dirt tracks crossing one another our “guide” had adopted us. He spoke a little English he had picked up before the Biafran war and told us there were about 2,000 people in the town. No electric, no water, zilch. On inquiring if there was another town locally where we could get a drink he said there was a bar nearby and he would take us. By now our entourage must have been a hundred strong but off we set down the track until we arrived at a larger hut with a veranda. Our guide knocked and entered and after a few moments a lamp was lit and we were welcomed inside. Inside the hut were a couple of threadbare settees and several armchairs. Pride of place was taken by the biggest American refridgerator I’d seen outside of a forties Hollywood movie, it was immense. The bar owner threw open the door to reveal it was crammed full of Star lager and Guinness. I was so stunned that I forgot there was no electricity to power it. We had a few beers but it was so hot it was bouncing on the swallow. Our guide asked us if we wanted “company” so having checked our stash of ciggies and soap we agreed that would be nice. We had to go to another area away from the main huts. It was as though there was an invisible line and all the people with us stopped, leaving us to continue onward alone. At this point I should like to say I did my bit and flew the flag. The reality is that with a crowd that had now grown to around two hundred I was in and out so quick I bumped into myself.
I now had a more pressing need and realising there was no way I could sneak off behind a hut asked our guide about the availability of local conveniences. Not a problem says he and off we went in procession back down to the river. By now the stars were out and the toilet turned out to be a forty hole thunderbox at the end of the rickediest uphill narrow jetty with missing boards I’d ever wanted not to see. Did I mention we were some months into the dry season? The stench was indescribable and that was before I set foot on the walkway. With two hundred people doing a slow handclap there was no backing out. I got out there and was feeling my way around terrified I would fall through a hole before I saw it. There were other people out there milling around and someone took my arm and led me to a hole and back to safety after I was done. The applause as I came back down the walkway was amazing.
I told our guide we needed to find the woman who had brought us as it was time to get back. We were led a few hundred yards along the shore and invited to get into a massive canoe. I explained again we needed to get back to the ship so sitting in a canoe fifty yards from the water wasn’t going to work. He said just to get in so we did. About ten guy picked up the canoe with us in it and started wading through the mud. Marty, ever the extrovert decided he would stand up and bid farewell to “his people”. The emotion must have been too much for him for he disappeared over the side and into the mud. By the time he was extracted he was as black as our new friends and helped carry the canoe.

Our guide did not accompany us on the return trip and much as we tried to communicate the need for stealth to our paddlers they insisted on singing so a clandestine boarding was impossble. Me and Marty got a day and a day for our escapade. Was it worth it. Hell yes.

[Tony Wilding]

A great story, one that will never been forgotten, youngsters of today would not believe what we did at there age, sad they wont have the opportunity, when i think of some of the places i found myself in , especially in Colombia and got back to the Ship in one piece it amazes me, have woke up in some right dens of iniquity, some of the exploits on the West African Coast would make a fantastic book, i never went there but my brother did, has told me a few, so nice to read of past adventures, hope many more are to follow, Tony W.

[Captain Kong]

There were many adventures in West Africa, what a place, no where like it on earth. it was timeless.
Beware the Bight of Benin, many white men go in, very few come out. [old sailors saying]
Cheers
Brian.

[Neville Roberts]

The first foreign port I stepped ashore in was Mombasa east africa , and as a 16 almost 17 it was a great experience ,of course I had to be the big guy and follow the other lads who had more sea time in than me . it was of to the bars one I remember was at the top of a main road about 1/2 a mile . we had a couple of tusker beers and a group of very large african women came in dressed in full long dresses and a head band , and we started dancing with them , no hanky panky as they were not ,at the game . after that the cook took us to the mud huts somewere of the main road .it was very scary for me ,and they all got fixed up and left me with a young nubian girl with just a candle ,she had her way in about 15 minutes I was out of there ,after wasting a 10 bob note , later that night back on the ship there was an uproar and the engineers stwd had come back in his underpants , all his other clothes were stolen . the cook a realy hard case from our liverpool took him back too the mud huts and got the elders ,told them that he would burn the village huts down if the clothes were not returned , he had a lot of nerve ,but did get the clothes back . after that episode I just got as far as the seamans mission , and lo and behold the pastor there was a gay . eeek

[Ivan Cloherty]

[QUOTE=Neville Roberts;104838], and lo and behold the pastor there was a gay . /QUOTE]

Some people have all the luck Neville

[happy daze john in oz]

Beware the Bight of Benin, many white men go in, very few come out. [old sailors saying]
Cheers
Brian.[/QUOTE]

If he bites like that why would you want to go in anyway?

[Geoff Bray]

I have been there
Great Story
Thanks for sharing it with us

[Russ Kennedy]

Great story, Calvin, thanks for that. It jogged a few of my memories of West Africa. I also remember going ashore in a dugout canoe, cannot for the life of me remember how we got back, but it must have been the same way, I certainly didn't swim back. I seem to remember it wasn't the safest mode of transport!!!!
One particular memory was when we were down there during the start of the Biafran War. We were tied up on the Apapa side of Lagos. Anyhow, myself, the Senior Leckie, John McAllister, (anyone from Palm Line remember John?), and a couple of junior engineers decided on a trip up town to the “Top Hat” (I think) night club, air conditioned, very posh (had to wear a tie, even if it was keeping your trousers up) and jacket. Anyhow, there was quite a few army personnel knocking about with a few trucks and jeeps etc. John was a great guy (from the Isle of Colonsay), with a very broad Scottish accent. He thought it would be a good idea if we could get a lift up to the night club, so he started to chat with one of the army drivers, told him he was a very good friend of Commander ….and rattled off some African sounding name, which I had never heard of and blow me the driver said without any questions, OK sir, I take you very quick
That was the start of a very good night……I think!!! . Some good times on the West Coast, but also some hairy times. I wouldn’t take any chances down there now!!!
Regards Russ Kennedy

[Tony Wilding]

Africa is far more dangerous now than in the days of Stanley or Livingstone, so many have AK47,s now. a friend of mine in the Oil Industry had to go to Nigeria and another close by Oil rich Country, had to travel with armed Guards wherever he went. the way of the World now.

[happy daze john in oz]

Africa is far more dangerous now than in the days of Stanley or Livingstone, so many have AK47,s now. a friend of mine in the Oil Industry had to go to Nigeria and another close by Oil rich Country, had to travel with armed Guards wherever he went. the way of the World now.

Hey Tony, have you run out of red ink, or has the Bank of England borrowed it to do their books?