Africa: Travel

Hello again!

This week, we return to the journeys! We had to do the journeys because my mum and dad often had to attend Bible-translation meetings. Also, Bilolo is in the middle of nowhere, so we needed to buy food supplies, and going to Yaounde or Bangui enabled us to have a break from the village. As a result of not being able to pop down to the shops and buy chocolate, we only ate chocolate once a week, every Friday, and it became a tradition, even when we returned to England. We'd also go to the nearest beach -- Kribi, in Cameroon. Kribi's almost directly west of Bilolo, if a good 1,000 km away; C.A.R. is landlocked, so Kribi is about as close as you can get for a beach, if you live in the south-west of C.A.R.

Our car in front, the Festens' car behind

We undertook the journeys in a repurposed ambulance; it was sturdy and reliable. Though it made its last journey a few years back, after we left Africa; apparently, the driver drove it into a ditch. The driver survived, I think; the car did not. The Festens frequently made the journeys with us; they were part of the same translation group.

The route from Bilolo to Bangui

My memories of the journeys to Bangui are fragmented and jumbled -- as a result, I'll just describe what I do remember.

Journeys to Bangui always took a very long time - 12-18 hours - as Bilolo's about 500 km away from Bangui, on dirt roads most of the way. You could always tell we were getting close to Bangui -- within about 200 km-- when the road switched to tarmac. The journey took so long, in fact, that we had to stop off at Nola, a town relatively near to Bilolo, for the night. We always stayed at a house I think of as being in the centre of Nola -- as we generally only stayed one night, I never saw much else of Nola. It's been years since I was there, but I can still remember it clearly -- a concrete patio out front, with latrines off to the side (rural Africa -- outdoor toilets!). The first room was a joint dining room/kitchen, with a hallway leading from it to a couple of bedrooms. There was another patio out the back. The house was owned by an old lady, who (I guess) was always happy to accommodate us. She was widowed; her husband was, I think, buried out the front, beyond the patio. Nola is predominately Muslim; every morning, at 5, the call to prayer could be heard.

On the way to Nola, from Bilolo, we had to cross a river -- this meant we needed to board a ferry. The ferry trip took generally about 10-15 minutes, from what I remember. We then had to cross a tributary of that river, called the Mambere River, en route from Nola to Bangui. Another thing that comes to mind is driving through the villages and towns; we'd get crowds of people rushing up. Some were salesmen and saleswomen -- others were presumably simply curious. Several thousand miles away from countries like Britain and America, in one of the poorest countries in the world -- one thing remains the same the world over: in rural communities, far from major cities, vehicles passing through are rare. So when one does pass through, you want to check it out.

The ferry!

I can remember the dusty roads, the stifling heat. The car, I think, always had a strange scent to it -- leather, maybe. The squeaking sound the car made as it rattled its way across country. Going up and down the bumpy roads, you'd bump your head a lot -- I remember that! We'd stop for toilet stops and lunch breaks. Once, the Festens' car broke down, so we had to wait several hours for them to repair it. I also remember, there was a stretch of road leading through forest, not long before Bilolo -- Bilolo is in the middle of the rainforest. This stretch of forest was so dark, there was very little sunlight. Either that or we frequently got back to Bilolo by nightfall. We tended to get back in the afternoon, in any case. I also remember, whenever I got home, I was very excited to get back. Something I still get excited about, though the journeys are much shorter now!We'd also travel to Yaounde, for school stuff. There's a school (American) for missionaries, called F.E.S, for me, Karys, the Festens' daughters and the Turks' sons to attend while the adults sat in meetings and worked. We didn't always travel by car though -- we also went by plane! We'd travel in a very small plane -- only seated 4 people, plus the pilot. You'd think it would be exciting to travel like that -- not for me! I have a fear of heights, so being so high in the air, in such a small space, was mildly terrifying. Especially when I looked down.

The little plane!

Bilolo from the air (en route to Yaounde)

As I've mentioned, we also travelled to Kribi -- the closest beach to Bilolo. It's almost 1,000 miles away. I think we tended to drive there -- stopping at places like Gamboula and Yaounde along the way. Kribi is a beach town, or a city. We generally stayed in a little place right on the beachfront -- I think it was a hotel. There are lots of steps leading up to the rooms -- there's a row of rooms, which are literally just bedrooms/living rooms. There's a restaurant close by; the last time I stayed in Kribi, on the first day, I ate pasta carbonara. It was so filling, I couldn't finish it all. At the end of the week, I ordered the same, but what arrived was a plate of plain pasta in a puddle of oil. For some reason.

Me, Karys and our (unofficial) cousins at Kribi

The beach is a big beach. I remember playing on the beach many times. There's a river, with sandy banks, some way along the beach -- I always enjoyed crumbling the banks into the water.

The Murrells (and Granny and Uncle Will) at Kribi