I stayed in bed as long as I could – till about 10am.
I had manioc leaves and rice in Jeska Mac for breakfast, 12000le and a Guinness for 10000le. The breakfast was more like brunch, just before noon.
I gave my clothes out to be washed. Towel – the so-called tourist towels are waste of money, they stink like crazy, shorts, shirt (for my tomorrow’s interview in the embassy) and 2 pairs. I asked how much I should pay. The current caretaker, Bendu, said how much I feel. I asked if 20,000 is OK, he said yes. It’s all gonna be hand-washed, this is no country for washing machines.
I went to Beach no. 2 aka River no. 2 beach, 20kms away. The Rough Guide to West Africa lists it as one of the country highlights but both guidebooks are silent on transportation. I asked in the guesthouse and I was told I may have to travel step by step: Lakka – Hamilton – Sussex – No. 2.
I came out onto Lumley junction and stood listening to what the drivers are calling out first to understand how far I can cover with the first step. Soon a minibus showed up and shouted Hamilton. I went in. 1500le.
In Hamilton I picked a moto and for 8000le I was carried to No. 2. The driver asked for 2000le extra to take me down to the beach but I wanted to walk. And it was a short walk.
The beach is pretty, white clean unspoilt sand, possibly blue waters in the sea but today was cloudy so the waters were steel gray. There is a river, its name river no. 2, entering the sea and cutting the beach in 2 parts. It was low tide. Me, with my knee dressed wound, which I should not “wet”, won’t cross the river. There is a pirogue that carries people from one side to the other. It’s literally maybe 20m journey.
But I sat down in one of the colourful wooden chairs and spent the day reading “Segu”. I’ve neglected the reading. There was maybe 5 other people on the beach with me. Soon someone came and told me “these chairs are for rent” and I had to pay 20,000le for the privilege of sitting. I left after 5pm and a single Guinness.
A moto took me back to where asphalt begins, for 3000le. There, minibuses are waiting for passengers going all the way to Lumley for 2,500le. However they don’t reach the junction/roundabout but stop at a bridge several hundred meters before the junction and that’s where they leave from too.
In the guesthouse I asked Bendu if I could buy palm wine somewhere. Bendu doesn’t speak much English, first he thought I was asking for palm oil but when I stressed the word wine he said he will take me to the right place.
We walked to Lumley Beach Road. First place we visited was a beauty saloon, the women directed us somewhere else, to a bar. In the bar they showed me shelves with bottles of wine. You know, merlots, chardonnays… I told the guys what I want and asked them to tell Bendu what I want, too. Aaaah he said you dey look for poyoh! Immediately he knew where to go. We walked back along the road and after the turn off to the guesthouse we turned right and, very properly, in the back of a pentecostal church, a palm wine bar. A more appropriate word would be drinking den, the French have a better word for it, buvette, even Polish know it’s a pijalnia. Men sitting around under a palm-leafed roof with plastic bottles in hand, and the bartender pouring white liquid from large plastic containers. A 1.5l bottle of palm wine was 5,000le.
The problem with palm wine is that it has to be fresh to taste nice, it ferments very quickly. Wine tapped in the morning will be nothing but vinegar by the evening. The freshest stuff is the best of course, deliciously sweet. This one was still quite good, a bit sourish and fizzy, reminded me of one of the yeast drinks my mama used to make for me to fight acne.
The situation with the palm wine sellers is also a bit strange – in bars they don’t sell the stuff, you have to ask around. The joint we saw was out there in the open yet when we walked Bendu told me to buy plastic bag so that police doesn’t see it. He was impressed with me when I put the bottle into a pocket in my shorts. One does not simply teach a Pole how to deal with booze.
Back in the guesthouse everyone turned out to be Muslim and therefore not drinking. I thought the bottle is too much but a woman working here said it’s easy to drink and I’ll finish it and that the wine is good for the health, coming “straight from God’s mouth” and it’s especially good for eyes.
Eyes or not, I managed the whole litre. It’s a weak drink. I’m contemplating going there in the morning for the fresher stuff but the interview…
Dinner was at Fine Food Restaurant, jollof rice and fish. Took me a while to explain to the waiter that if there is salad with the meal I don’t want ketchup and mayonnaise with the veggies. His response was: “but what do you prefer?” Anyhow we finally settled what I want and the salad arrived clean. Jollof rice wasn’t the jollof I know, that has to wait brill probably Ghana at least. It was OK though. 33,000le with small bottle of water.
Evening greeted us with no power. Generators started. My guesthouse is supposed to have a generator but we are sitting in the dark.
Coming back to Maman 