I woke up at night when the light was cut off and the fan stopped working. I was all in sweat. Of course water was not running from the tap and I didn’t fill the bucket in the evening. Then, a muezzin started his chants and I was glad because I thought if was already 5am. But it is ramadan, and the call was possibly to wake them up so that they can eat? It was 3:19am when I looked at the clock. Shit. I couldn’t fall back asleep, it was so hot. I wonder whose life is harder? That of a Muslim who has to obey such strict lifestyle? Or that of a non-Muslim who lives among the Muslims and has to suffer inconveniences of 3am muezzin calls or Ramadan restrictions.
I started calling back asleep around 5am when I was supposed to be getting up for the road.
Emmanuel, from Calabar, whom I met the previous evening in the chop joint, texted me. He wanted to take pictures with me before I go.
We did that in the guesthouse’s courtyard. We posed and the guesthouse man took ONE photo on Emmanuel’s phone and one photo of mine. We had to tell the guy how to take photos with a phone, you take many and then you chose the good ones.
The car to Gembu was parked a few hundred meters away from the guesthouse on the way to the roundabout. It was about 20-year-old Toyota Corolla. Only a pair of doors. I was almost the last passenger, we waited for one more. I saw there was only rice and beans to eat and I passed. I ended up very hungry. I was in fact looking for coffee, let it be nescafé but the only place nearby was packed and shut. Ramadan.
The fare to Gembu was N2000, it was of course suggested that I should pay double for the front seat. And as I was looking at the small car, its back seats without door, without window that can be open, with the glass covered with some white stuff I thought I should take the double seat in front. I’d be able to take photos, after all we were supposed to be in the mountains.
And so I did pay an extra N2000. It was supposed to be my last car ride in Nigeria, I can splurge.
We moved. After maybe 10 minutes we stopped in front of Bali prison and a man and two women came to the car. The man called me “daddy.” He and his wife just had baby, and his mother-in-law came to see it and now she was coming back home to Gembu. She was the fifth passenger.
Problem was – the three people in the back, two women and a man, weren’t small, the man was in fact quite big. And the mama couldn’t enter the back. So, of course there was a “suggestion” that she will sit in front of me and because she was small she would not disturb me much. And I’d be refunded N1000. That’s half of one seat. I said no, if there would be a refund, it should be N1500. They agreed. The man, dressed in Muslim robes, was going back to Gembu for the funeral of his father, who was apparently 109 years old when he died. The man took out a bottle and took a long sip. He said it was a drink that allowed him.”to be sociable in face of family tragedy.” It was gin.
So, mama, next to me, it doesn’t feel too bad, we moved. Another 5 minutes later we stopped again and the driver got our and a new, “correct”, driver came in. It actually happens often that one driver leaves the motor park only for another to replace him a few minutes later. I can only guess what rules are flaunted.
This time mama wanted to sit on the driver seat but the car was small and she didn’t manage. So she was sitting in the middle, one leg on driver’s side, one leg on my side. We moved.
10 minutes later I saw the driver holding his face as if his tooth was aching. I even consider giving him some of my malaria painkillers but they were in boot. Anyway, 10 minutes later we stopped in the village so that the driver could buy some pills.
Finally, we moved on. The distance to Gembu was 230km but also to get to Gembu we had to climb 1500m in altitude.
There were not many checkpoints but at one I was called out, a soldier said he had to inform another checkpoint ahead that I was coming so we went to the 20th batallion barracks, where my passport was checked, a man went inside and came outside and said we could go.
I couldn’t resist a secret snap.
The road was either very good or very bad. When we started climbing – hairpin bends in Nigeria! – the road became terribly bad. We moved very slowly.
Some 60kms before Gembu we stopped at another checkpoint and the driver said he wanted to return because his toothache was “worrying” him. Handover. We sat in an even older and smaller Corolla, whose windscreen was almost completely smashed and instead of the back window, there was some carton.
I reminded the driver I was owed N1500. It turned out the man from the back was contributing N1000, the driver only N500.
We didn’t move immediately, the two drivers were engaged in long discussion on how to share the costs of the transport.
This time mama’s small size didn’t help much, we were all squeezed.
The driver soon started asking me how to get and work and do business with his new favourite country: Poland.
It took us 7 hours to cover the 230kms. It’s not really the stops but the state of the road coupled with the fact that we were climbing.
The landscape around was green and sometimes a bit rocky. We passed many cattle herds, they often blocked the road.
Gembu is quite a busy town. On arrival we were greeted by a crowd of okada drivers, one of them, Abdoulaye, mentioned going to Cameroon and he took me for N100 to a Daola Guesthouse. There a vast room that actually were two rooms, cost either N2500 or N3000. I couldn’t really tell the difference between them. The N2500 room was a bit smelly and the bathroom was very awful while the N3000 room’s bathroom was just awful. The receptionist said the N3000 room has a working TV, a very important thing, and the shower would work if only the guesthouse used big generator. They don’t use big generator so there is no showed. But there was a tap above a huge barrel with oily water so at least there was a source of fresh water. I took the N3000. Later I found out my room was in a VIP section of the guesthouse. Makes me wonder what the non-VIP rooms looked like.
Abdoulaye patiently waited for me. The road to Cameroon according to him, to a town called Banyo, takes 3h30mins and costs 25000cfa. Now why exactly was he using a CFA price while we were in Nigeria, I don’t know. When I asked him how much it is in naira he has to calculate it, it’s N13250. A lot! I did ask him for a discount but all he said was “na so the price”, he only spoke pidgin to me. I told him I’d call him but I also said I’m gonna look around and ask about the price, he said it would be the same. He also said that he could take me to moneychangers.
On the way to the guesthouse I saw a pickup truck from immigration. The man inside when he saw he immediately started calling me but we passed him. I thought maybe in order to avoid weird visits at midnight I should go to immigration and introduce myself.
Across the street there was a chop joint, I had rice and egusi – not a combination that Nigerians eat, egusi soup is for swallows but I rather prefer rice. It cost N300 and it was very tasty.
I walked the Gembu’s main road. I think it was main road because if had remains of an asphalt. I was greeted by everybody. One elderly Muslim man demanded (!) a photo! In general, in Nigeria snapping photos even in crowded areas doesn’t trigger any agressive reaction. It’s just I’m a bit broken by the other places by now.
I saw the immigration car. I stopped it and chatted with the man inside. He did of course check my passport. No problems thank you officer and have a good day.
I entered a small shop to buy water. Inside I saw a man changing CFA to naira. I asked for the rate. Naira to CFA is N530 for 1000CFA. CFA to naira is N525 for 1000CFA.
There are two CFA francs. One is a so-called Western African Franc (symbol XOF), the other one is called Central African Franc (symbol XAF). Both are equal in value and their rate is controlled by France.
But strangely in Nigeria the Central African Franc trades 10% lower than Western African Franc. And it’s true both for selling and buying. One man told me it’s because of “Cameroon issues” but that may mean Nigerians are ripping Cameroonians off.
Anyway, I started chatting with the man changing CFA and asked him about changing dollars to CFA in Nigeria. I mean if I can get 10% extra and Nigeria likes dollars so maybe? The man – his name was Ephesian – said he knew someone and took me there in his car. In the car I askes about Cameroon and how he was going there and I asked about bike to Cameroon. He said the price was 22,000cfa and that he knew someone who could take me there.
The Muslim shop that does the dollar to CFA exchange didn’t have enough CFA and told me to come the next day at 6:30am when they open. I have about $700 left in cash and Nigeria is the last dollar country before DRC, where I won’t spend much time so I split the cash in two and wanted to change $350.
The network – MTN – barely worked since Bali. In Bali at least if was just slow internet. In Gembu there was no signal. I couldn’t call either Abdoulaye to ask him to maybe reconsider his price, nor I could ask Ephesian if he found the bike driver.
I sat in a local night club sipping Gulder beer. The club was in fact a nice vast place, pity the beer wasn’t cold. No light. I was re-reading “Things fall apart” by Chinua Achebe. A great book.
The network signal came back, I still couldn’t make any calls. I sent SMS to Ephesian.
Back in the guesthouse I asked the receptionist where else I can eat. The way people show directions around here is quite confusing, perhaps for them as well, so the woman walked me all the way until we found the place. And I saw roasted fish! Carp, not too big, N500. I’d come back.
In the meantime Ephesian called me and he showed up with two brothers (although the concept of brother in Africa is sometimes very fluid). One of them would take me to Banyo. Price? 30,000cfa. Ha! But I did ask Ephesian and he said it’s 22,000cfa, so what are you saying now gentlemen? Ah but the road is difficult (it is), checkpoints are many (not many). Oh well, I told them I already had someone for 25,000cfa and I can use that man (if I could only get through to him on the phone). Okay, so they could also go for 25k. Ah but gentlemen, that man was there first and I can’t just let him down like that. So OK, they would go for 22k as Ephesian said they would. One of them even stayed in Banyo so he knew the roads very well. Guaranteed. However they did ask for “fuel money” and it was N5000. That kind of money in Nigeria could fuel a small car, not a bike. But what if they leave me the next day alone? No they won’t. Guaranteed. I have them the money. They said 6 of 7am is too early, we should leave at 8am. I told them I needed a road where I could get stamped on exit out of Nigeria and stamp in on entry to Cameroon. They said it’s better to get stamp in Gembu before we leave. Fine. I also said that I’d like to make stops for pictures. No problems.
I went to eat. The fish was small but tasty, I asked for jollof rice and I took Guinness but it was warm, the food cost N1050. The choice of food was quite good, the guests were eating in the house, on couches, where two children were doing homework using mobile phones or a small portable lamp for light. A bit of a heartbreaking sight. Not sure why there was no stringer light in that room, after all there was gen running and there was TV on and loud music played.
I went for one more Guinness to the night club, it wasn’t much colder. Everyone was watching wrestling matches and cheering the competitors.
Coming back to the guesthouse the town was dark and quiet. It was also a bit chilly. Gembu is the highest located town in Nigeria, at over 1600m above sea level. The guesthouse rooms didn’t even fans.
Coming back to Maman 