FRANCE - Paris (2001)

Paris: 9.12.2001

We left Douala yesterday night after 12.30 am one hour late. Some technical problem with the plane. Our technical problem was that it was eating into our Paris transit time.
.
On 3rd, on the way in to Douala, while transiting at Paris for a few hours, Ramesh and I had whiled away our time at the airport by looking at tourist maps of Paris and trying to work out whether our 'load' of visiting certain number of sites in Paris could be 'distributed' between the two transits we would make in Paris, once on 9th morning on the way to Niamey for 6 hours and once on 12th night on the way back home for around 5-6 waking hours. We had decided that we would see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph on the 9th, both being close together, leaving Notre Dam, Bastille and the Louvre for the next transit. But our flight, instead of landing at 6.30 am, landed at 9.30 am at Paris, having stopped at Marseille for fuelling and correcting an engine problem. We sadly decided that it gave us too little time to go out -- 3 hours was too short, given possible traffic snarls in Paris.

We took our boarding cards and were about to pass through security when we discovered that our flight had been delayed by one hour! Delayed to allow us to go out? We made an about turn and worked our way out again through Immigration.

We had expected Paris to be cold in December but had not expected it to be 4 degC at 11.00 am! My friend Ramesh was wearing a T-shirt and said he had "another thick one, no worry." Before we could properly look around, one private taxi offered us a very good deal to see Eiffel and the Arc and come back to the airport, within 2 hours. He looked so Indian that finally I addressed a question to him in Hindi. He looked blank for a moment, then said: "Tamil teri maa?" I almost passed out. It turned out that Ratnam (his name) was from Sri Lanka and he and Ramesh kept on prattling away in Tamil after that.

We reached the Arc in 30 mins and spent some time taking pictures. It was bitterly cold and the tourists, considerable in number, were wrapped up like eskimos. I'd given the jacket to Ramesh and had put on a half-sleeve and a full-sleeve pullover together, which was okay for the body, but our hands and ears kept going numb every 5 mins.
........
.We drove across to the Eiffel which was heavily crowded -- there was no chance of going up. It's massive all right, but from close up it seemed just like a steel structure -- not much romance in it. All the open spaces around were now inhabited and getting a full and clear view was well-nigh impossible. Anyway, standing bang below the Eiffel Tower and looking into the structure from inside was something I had never imagined I'd do, so it had its own thrill.........
.
We spent a couple of minutes on the bridge on the Siene opposite the tower. Barges and pleasure-boats were plying on the river, carrying tourists aand families out on a Sunday. The river was bordered by avenues, now bare of trees, and was crossed time and again by bridges.
......
.We drove back along another route, passing through the poshest section of Paris where buildings and whole apartments-floors were owned by tycoons -- Arab and otherwise. The French architecture had been retained in most areas and we passed through very narrow residential lanes which were reminiscent of Madrid. We would have loved to have stopped at one of the many roadside cafes and have some coffe, but time was not on our side, and our driver had to pick up another passenger, an American lady. So we drove through the streets of Paris, visually soaking up the sun-washed pavements and shop-fronts, Parisians strolling about on a late Sunday morning. Paris, the city of dreams .........
.
We returned to the airport and waited another 2 hours for our flight to Niamey to depart. The initial planning to squeeze in Paris on the 9th itself, our disappointment at the delay, and the final good fortune of a cheap taxi and traffic-free streets that made our plan come true, had left an overall 'upper' feeling that refused to go away inspite of our tiredness.

Our flight landed at Niamey at 8.40 pm, an hour late. One of our customers had come to meet us and we drove to Sofitel through the lightly populated streets of a seemingly peaceful city.

Paris: 12-13.12.2001

Tired.

.Early rising the last two days at 5.00 am, coupled with only 4 hours of sleep last night has taken its toll. This is now the second-last leg the the 4-legged travel home from Niamey.
.
We left Niamey yesterday at 7.00 am and flew to Casablanca, Morocco, on a transit stop of 4 hours before proceeding to Paris. How I wished we could just pop out for an hour for a peek at this historic town. The weather was cloudy and rainy, so the aerial view of the town was not very clear, but the countryside, changing gradually from barren rocks to the tilled fields jostling each other in patterened brown patches, gave the appearance of seasoned Moroccan leather, for which this region is said to be famous.

The official languages seemed to be Arabic and French, with the population mostly Muslims. The local people dress very much like Mauritanians, but there seemed to be a fairly high population of goras, which, of course, could be a temporary influx from Paris. The airport was quite posh, with the duty-free shops stocking the latest in electronics.

.Talking of Moroccan leather, after our faux pas at Niamey regarding the gloves, we thought we would be sure to get good leather gloves at the Casablanca airport. But there was no sign of any leather products whatsoever!

.Incidentally, travelling ex-Niamey is a problem in a few instances. At Casablanca, the person doing the final checks before we entered the flight had to scrutinise my passport for a long time since he could find no reference to my having arrived from Miami! I couldn't have imagined two places more apart in polarity!

.
Our flight into Paris was delayed by 40-45 mins and we landed at 9.00 am. Given the short number of hours in Paris, we had honed our plans to split-second during the flight, going from Plan A to Plan B to Plan C in quick succession as each one failed (landing thump on its back) after a totally unexpected parameter exploded in our face, catching us unawares. I'd already mentioned about the 3-hour delay on the first transit. Here are a few more examples:

.
Plan A: At Niamey, we'll check in our bags up to the destination, keeping only a small bag with essentials, so that we do not waste time going to hotel from airport, and can go straight to town to see night lights and illuminations.

.
What happened: Niamey check-in counter refused to book my bags since there were too many transits. So we carried all our bags, had to go to the hotel first (went to the wrong hotel as well) and could take the airport bus to Arc de Triumph at only 11.00 pm (last bus), reaching there at 11.45 pm. The illumination ws available upto midnight ony, but while it was there, it was b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l. The streets were also decked up and literally 'lit up like a Christmas tree' in expectation of the occasion. All shops were closed, except restaurants, so gloves were still missing (airport shops had also closed at 9.00 pm), but I could buy a cap from a shop, which gave protection to the head at least. Otherwise on my upper body I had a vest, a full-sleeved T-shirt, a full-sleeved shirt, a short pullover and a full pullover. Below -- track-bottoms beneath jeans. On feet -- two pairs of socks. After we had partaken a dinner of pizza and espresso at a cafe, our body also gained the necessary warmth and a walk along chilly streets (Champ Elysees -- the main road leading to Arc de Triumph) was a very nice experience. Even with shops closed, the number of people walking on the streets at 1.00 am was amazingly high! There were bunches of people still walking into warm restaurants from the 0 degC weather outside, possibly fresh from a movie or the last 3-hour show of Lido, the most famous cabaret in town. At the cafe where we were having dinner, we could see a fair mixture of looks -- Caucasian, dark and Oriental..

......

.The winter weather in Paris really emcourages people to dress it up. Standard of dressing seems very high - must cost a packet to keep up. We were feeling quite un-dressed in comparison!

After around half-an-hour of wandering and window-shopping for Christmas extravaganza, our enthusiasm also reached the level of the temperature and we caught a taxi to take us back. Taxi is quite costly and a 20-min ride back cost us FF 260 (around $40). In fact, for regular tourists, all-day train passes are available for just FF 150.

.
Plan B: We went to sleep at 2.00 am. Next day we had to report at the check-in by 12.00 noon latest. The fact that Paris traffic was notoriously heavy at the best of times and susceptible to suddesn snarls, necessitated that we stooped sightseeing by 10.30 am latest and came back. We wanted to see the Bastille, Notre Dam, Louvre, Pantheon and whatever else came by the way. We also wanted to enetr the Louvre and go on top of the Eiffel tower, each of which could occupy well over an hour, and both of which opened only after 9.00 am. We took the hard decision of not enetering the Louvre. Moreover, we'd get up real early, like 5.00 am, reach airport by 6.00 am, reach city by coach by 7.00 am, see the Louvre and Bastille from outside by 8.00 am, reach Eiffel by 8.30 am, go up by 9.00 am when the counters opened, be down by 10.00 am, see some nearby sights by the Seine till 10.30 am, and start back. In fact, although an overnight stay on paper, we had precious little time.

.What happened: We ran a little late reaching the Opera (from where we'd walk to the Louvre) on account of heavy traffic. But that was not what was worrying us now. At 7.30 am, walking to the Louvre, we found it was still pitch-dark! Paris night was still going strong. We wandered outside a deserted and freezing Louvre, gazing up at an overcast sky, waiting for the doubtful dawn that would allow us to take pictures.

.Plan C: We planned no more. We hailed a cab (difficult in Paris actually), told the driver to take us to the Bastille, Pantheon and Notre Dam in any order he liked, then to drop ua back at the Louvre. Then we sat back and relaxed ..... The air was still cold but we were somewhat used to it by now. It was only when walking on the street with the stiff breeze snapping at us, that we realised that at 9.00 am, it was actually colder than at midnight! Taking photos was taking its own toll on numb fingers -- in fact, feeling the shutter was sometimes a problem. But now we saw all the sights in style, although there still wasn't enought ime to enter inside Louvre. Next time Insha Allah........

.
Paris streets are really lovely sights. Very clean, of course. Most buildings still have that old-world look -- stone facades, big wooden doors, small wrought-iron balconies. In the Opera area, cafes stuck their awnings into the streets and some early breakfasters were at it, although sitting inddors in this weather. Some couples were warming their faces with a kiss and some old men were walking their dogs. And the traffic was heavy, heavy, heavy ..... Big powerful bikes and scooters with fancy stylings zoomed and weaved to the front and roller-skates and cyclists tried the same near the kerb. The sun broke through the clouds at around 10.00 am and some shops decided to open up........

.
The city is also very well-oriented towards handling tourists. Even a casual visitor to the city will get enough literature at the airport itself to arm himself with information regarding things to see and how to reach them. There are coaches plying from the airport to 6-7 points in the city (what excellent coaches!) and their departure points from that huge Charles de Galle airport are defined with perfect accuracy. In fact, we were able to return from the city also by this coach which, though not free, is considerably cheaper than a taxi. There is train or metro also available with cheap day-passes. There are double-decker open-top buses doing a 40-point circular route, which will be the ideal thing in summer for the one-day visitor. The behaviour of the Frenchmen is also very cordial and helpful in matters of giving directions and the like. However, there is no doubt that it is a costly city to visit and to live in.......

.
The rest of our journey back is going on schedule. The AF flight from Paris left an hour late, but since I have a connecting flight with a 3-hour gap, it is okay. I found myself sharing the seat number with an old man, so I changed my seat, but in the process, lost my AVML to him -- the guy ate it before anybody could realise the mix-up! So the stewardess made up a veg dinner 'specially for me' consisting of grapes, orange, kiwi, yoghurt (sour), boiled beans, boiled carrots, an alu-tikki and some leafy vegetables I couldn't identify. So I'm going home full of beans!

LINK TO PARIS ALBUM

..

NIGER - Niamey (2002)

Niamey: 10.12.2002

We had scheduled two full days of work at Niamey. Since this is a predominantly Muslim country (unlike Cameroun, which is predominantly Christian), we had expected that during this restrictive month of Ramadan, we would need two days to do one day's work. At the end of the first day, we were wondering what to do tomorrow.
.
Niger is a Sahara country, like Mauritania. Except for a bottom strip of greenery where the Niger river flows, the rest of the country is pure desert with the major part of the 10 million population nestling in the southern half. This was a French colony as well, with literacy and economic development at quite low levels. People do speak a little English. They are very peaceful, almost resigned, with not much of aggression that is visible in the other French colonies. It was after a long time that we felt safe walking in the evening in an African city.......
.The city is small and dusty, quite sandy at places, with the looks of a Deulti or Mecheda rail station in Bengal. Old second-hand cars rattle along the streets, adding layers of dust on the goods displayed in the shops alongside. There are no crowds and here, unlike in Cameroun, people are seen to be sitting around waiting for things to happen. There are beggars, mostly children.

.

By 3.00 pm we had finished our total work, except for one guy who would be available only tomorrow. We had lunch at - hold your breath - a Chinese restaurant. We had had some apprehension that being Ramadan, eating joints would not be open, but such was apparently not the case. In any case, there are a lot of Nigerian businessmen in Niger as well, who are mostly Christians. But overall, the town was quite uninteresting and would have given Noukchott of Mauritania a run for its money in this aspect.......

.In the evening we took a walk, generally talked sitting by the pool, had an early dinner at the hotel of legume soup and sphagetti neopolitine, watched French TV for some time, read and decided to get up tomorrow as late as possible.
.
How to spend another day, which meant 12-14 waking hours? We were quite worried actually.

Niamey: 11.12.2002

Today is a low-activity day. However, after a long gap I was able to do meditation in the morning. Too much of new experiences made concentration difficult but one must keep up the good work.

Before proceeding, let me just recount a Cameroun incident. In Douala, we visited our biggest customer Sylvester, a Nigerian settled in Cameroun, who was in the process of 'transfer', ie shifting to his own new house. He was living in a sort of Bombay chawl building, which is quite upper-middle class here, mind you. He now proudly took us to his new mansion, three-storeyed, with the ground floor dedicated to office and warehouse and the two floors above to residence. The taste of Africans in housing, as in most things, is very inconsistent. They go through a very difficult process actually. The basic need-level is really quite low. He is quite happy with rough wall-finishes and slanted tile-settings and aluminium tube-bars on the balcony instead of decorative grills. But since he wants to exhibit his aspirations, he collects opinions from people and his own memories of whatever has impressed him, and puts in wood-panelling on the ceiling of an otherwise concrete room, world-class tiles (brightly coloured), jazzy sofa-sets (some 20 in number), view-cams for security purposes and of course, three times the number of rooms ("with bath, see!") than his family needs. This guy's house was a labyrinth of passages and rooms. When we asked him who designed this marvel, he modestly said: "I".

On the top floor there were two interesting situations. Out of the 3 rooms, only one had AC. "My room", he said. No AC in the others? we asked. He shook his head: "In Africa, women and children do not need AC." It sounded like it had been promulgamated by the ancient Hutus. The biggest room was his and the next one his wife's. The third one? we asked. "That's the tenant's", he explained. We dared not ask further why his wife's bedroom should be the one in the middle!

Anyway, back to Niamey. Apart from two meetings in the morning, we were free and we asked our customer to take us sight-seeing. He was extremely troubled by this request and, after a lot of agitated consultation with colleagues, offered to take us to the handicrafts village and then - maybe the zoo? We agreed to both but first we wanted to buy some warm gloves and a scarf for attacking the Parisian night, which may well be below zero. "Gloves?" asked the poor fellow, quite dazed. Some clothes-shop, we suggested, where warm clothes are available. "Well", he said:"This eez cold weather, see? And I need only T-shirt. No warm clothes in Niamey!" What do people do when they go to Paris? "They borrow", he said firmly.

Still, being a very accommodating chap, he took us to the biggest supermarket in Niamey, all decked up for Christmas, where, in the clothes section, we became objects of public attention when the sales lady diffidently offered us pink woolen mittens three sizes too small for us and evidently meant for the upmarket Niamey lady venturing into Parisian society in winter (and not inclined to 'borrow'). Going by the decayed look of the mittens, no such lady had ventured for quite some time.

Temporarily shelving our sartorial objectives (much to the relief of out hosts) we visited the artisan village. There was a good display of leatherwear and silverware, and I bought something for Panna.

The zoo then, to fill up the time till lunch. It was actually a decent-sized zoo, but very ill-maintained. As the zoo guide said: "We don't get to eat much - can the animals?" One bad-tempered chimpanzee splashed us with water, otherwise it was a dry run.......

We drove through the market area, which was already crowded with Ramadan shopping. One lady driver in front of us had her bag flicked out of the open window, but people caught the thief and returned the bag. We could see stalls selling food (including fried locusts!!) and meat (piles of it). Generally the mood was festive.

LINK TO NIGER ALBUM

.

CAMEROUN - Yaounde/Douala (2001)

Yaounde: 5.12.2001

In this trip, we (ie Ramesh and I) were visiting two countries -- Cameroun and Niger, both in West Africa. As usual, connectivity between Dubai and these places is a problem and on the penultimate day, we ended up flying Air France all the way and transitting Paris three times and Casablanca once. Out of this extended journey, the silver lining seemed to be an overnight halt (forced) at Paris, which would enable us to see a bit of the city.

I'd left Muscat on the evening of the 3rd, changing at Dubai to a flight for Paris (and being joined by Ramesh there). We landed at Paris airport at 6.00 am and caught a 10.00 am flight to Douala, the commercial capital of Cameroun. Although we saw on the net before leaving that Paris was running fairly cold at 7 degC, we were in no way prepared for the freezing temperatures in the AF flights themselves - these goras must be really cold-blooded! I still had a jacket on, but Ramesh had to contend with the thin shawls handed out in-flight.

Since I had just turned vegeterian, I was wondering what sort of fare the AVML on flight would dish up. They turned out to be quite decent, with rice, koobs and curries for the main meals and pri-bhaji for breakfast. International flights have tuned in now to the idiosynchracies of Indians, I'm sure.

We landed at Douala at 6.00 pm and were met at the airport by a local customer. We had already planned to proceed straightaway to Yaounde, the capital of Cameroun. The customer advised us to undertake this 3-1/2 hour journey by bus instead of by private taxi as the roads were not totally safe. There is no state-run public transport system and we availaed of the services of 'Guaranti' to take us to Yaounde. We slept most of the way, were met by another customer at Yaounde around 10.00 pm and were promptly taken to a Chinese dinner. We were looking quite like scallawags after 24 hours of travel and a day's growth of beard, but courtesy has to be followed! We finally checked in to Hotel Mont Febe (situated on a hill with beautiful greenery all around) at midnight.
.......

At first sight, Cameroun seemed to be very green, with lots of fruit trees. The view from the road of the surrounding countryside, with small houses and bunches of banana and palm-trees, was very reminiscent of the countryside of Bengal and Tamil Nadu! It's a huge country; population must be over 50 million. Having been a French colony at one time, French is the common language, although English is fairly well-understood. Most of the population is Christian, so the anticipation of Christmas is in the air and the austerities of Ramadan are observed privately by the Muslim citizens.

On the morning of the 5th, we left straightaway for Bafoussam, another town a 3-hour drive away. We spent the day there, visiting the market, and returned again at 9.00 pm. At 9.30 pm, a customer landed up on schedule and we went for dinner -- at the same Chinese joint! The day, in fact the touring till now, had been pretty tiring, although the drive to Bafoussam was very nice, through rolling greenlands and jungle stretches, all a-blossom with winter flowers. We had a hearty dinner, having had a lunch of only cake, juice and groundnuts. Our customer was feeling a little limited in hospitality, as he was not being able to ply us with liquor or load us with tasty non-veg dishes, but ultimately he and his wife more than made up the deficit in food intake.

Overall I found Camerounians very friendly and not with any hang-ups at all. Unlike other African countries where auto spare markets would be serious stretches of road doing intense business in spares, here in Yaounde and Bafoussam, auto shops would jostle among beer-bars, or the occasional 'Casino Royale', or be rapping pistons with music-system repair shops booming out ragge. A lot of bustling activity without loitering. Bubbles of 'Coiffeur' shops, even open-air, with ladies changing their hairstyles from Unspeakable-1 to Mind-zapping-3 with intense concentration! The men are jolly folks, some well-educated and qualified. We met a middle-aged man nursing a beer in a shop who, on hearing that we lived in a sheikdom, held forth for ten minutes on the evils of absolutism and how the tendency has dissolved in Britain to a benevolent system now. He compared the despotism of African governments to fiefdoms of yore and said that personal ill-wills were now being equated to the illness of the state, which was not justified. "Govt falls," he said, "but the State? The State lives on....The State is but the house, which the governing bodies come and occupy for some time, and go again ..... just as your body is just the house, which your soul occupies for some time and again goes forth --". At that point we left. Cameroun was too far a distance to travel to and listen to beer-slurred Vedanta!

Today we went around the Yaounde market which occupied us fully from 9.00 am to 6.00 pm. This is a break for writing this journal entry. We are of course expecting a customer to come and take us to dinner - hopefully not at the same Chinese place!

PS - Well, we finally went to an Italian place. Restaurants and nightclubs are very popular at Yaounde and people boogie till dawn at weekends. We declined the offer of nightclubs boogiing and had legume soup and veg pizza at L'Atlantic. Their pizza was bit of an effort actually. It was practically topping on a chapati, so thin was the crust. One whole piece, you are expected to cut it with knife and fork and eat. Very dissatisfying, eating pizza like this. May be authentic Italian, for all we know.

Douala: 6.12.2001

Today we left Youande in the morning and travelled by bus again back to Douala, reaching around 1.30 pm.

Cameroun countryside is indeed beautiful. It's not a flatland and very often our bus was travelling on single-track roads between fairly steep embankments, with tall grasses and shrubs leaning in to form overhangs. We crossed a few small rivers that feed this fertile land. When we had gone to Youande, we had crossed a big river called the Uri. People here are fairly well-fed and not unhappy with the president who has been ruling now for the last 20 years or so.

However, for a land so rich in timber, we could also see signs of systematic denudation by French companies who seem to have taken large concessions on land. Long trailers laden with timber would often block our bus and nearer to Douala we could see large patches of hillside bereft of vegetation. At this rate, in another 20 years or so, the ground will be bare.

We had left Youande in the morning in a bit of hurry on two counts. Firstly, Hotel Mont Febe was hosting some African country's summit that very day and senior officials from various countries were expected. All the roads leading up to the hotel were festooned with flags and we wanted to push off before all the roads started to get blocked. This happends to me regularly on tours - once in Mauritius and again in Arusha. Secondly, we had seen a news flash on CNN in the morning that Air France ATC staff had started a 36-hour strike. This had the potential to disrupt schedules and since we were scheduled to fly to Paris next night with a connection to Niamey, all our plans had a high chance of being jeopardised. Anyway, we finally caught the bus straightaway without checking with AF, as we thought that AF Douala may have updated news later in the day.

The bus journey by 'Guarantee Express', like earlier, was around 3 hours, and being by day, was quite enjoyable. In terms of maintenance and looks, it was more or less like 'Pallavan Transport' buses of Chennai. "Only the people are different", said Ramesh. The tickets had our names and the suitcases were stowed in the hold with luggage tags whose counterfoils were stapled to our tickets! Ultimately the bus was full-up and a lady with stocks of eatables and drinkables (a sort of Guarantee air-hostess) also boarded the bus and travelled all the way in order to provide necessary nourishment, although at a cost. Somewhere in the middle of the journey, a travelling salesman selling some red-coloured herbal concoction in bottles also boarded. First he distributed some printed material so that people could follow his pitch and then he held the captive audience spell-bound with a one-hour discourse on the hopelessness of their lives without this divine tomato ketchup and how having dollops of it regularly will clean up their bowels and their souls. So successful was he that his stock was practically sold out by the time he had answered all queries at the end of his presentation.

The travellers on the bus were, surprisingly, mostly single. I think safety-wise this mode of transport ranks high and a lot of single ladies were also travelling. Camerounian ladies are very dress and figure-concious. Dresses are uniformly bright and cut to style, with mini-skirts quite popular amongst teenagers. I think that with most African females, the ability to attract physically is a major source of security for them and their dress and behaviour is strongly oriented towards this. On the other hand, when going around the auto spare shops, we found women managing or helping in the running of business in a large number of places. Possibly they have a good head for business, but have this irritating propensity of suddenly turning coy and giggly in the middle of business discussions. Unless they sort out this schizophrenia, women's lib will take a long time to evolve in this country.

We checked with the AF office at Douala and were told that flights should be normal by tomorrow evening. Incidentally, Ramesh, my co-traveller, has a terrible track-record of things going wrong on tour. Either flights would get cancelled, or they would leave without him, or his luggage would go to another country, or he would not be allowed entry. He had already warned me before departure, but I had assured him of a stock of good-luck with me. This AF scare seemed to be Ramesh's 'devil' trying to gain an upper hand, and if things revert to normal, it may be my good-luck doing its bit. We'll see tomorrow.

We had lunch at a roadside restaurant. The first important French word I had learnt on this trip was 'legume' meaning vegeterian. "Only legume in sandwich, understand?" we'd tell the waitress sternly. Their sandwich turned out to be a footlong bread, longitudinally sliced and filled with mayonnaise and tomato/onion mixture. This, washed down with guava juice, was indeed a simple and nice meal. We had been met at the bus stand by a couple of employees of a customer, and their lunch was a sumptuous fish-and-rice affair, washed down with cold beer. Luckily they were sitting at another table.

We visited the spare parts market in the rest of the afternoon. Although Douala seemed to have a fair number of goras, we still stuck out like a sore thumb in this uniformly African environment. But in terms of security, Douala is cake-walk compared to Lagos or Nairobi.

Speaking of Lagos, the business of Cameroun is well-dominated by Nigerians, a lot of them having settled here 20-30 years earlier. Nigerians have a very strong head for business. The locals are comparatively easygoing and find it difficult on the ethical front to deal with Nigerian aggression.

Our customer, a group of three, landed up at 8.30 pm to take us to dinner - Italian again! Chinese or Italian: the cuisine here seemed to be split on a chopping block. Scanning expertly through the Italian menu (ie looking for words I knew) I settled on a 'Sphagetti Neopolitaine', which was noodles with tomato sauce.

It is a fact that this tour did wonders for my appreciation of food. On the one hand we were always eating light, so we were always quite hungry at mealtimes. Moreover, the choice of simple veg dishes made me identify and appreciate flavours and sensations I had never bothered to feel earlier. When having the 'sandwich' for lunch, the crunch of the freshly-cut onions in the mayonnaise was very satisfying. The tomato-sauce mix in the sphagetti would otherwise have passed my tongue unappreciated. But being the only condiment on the background of plain pasta, I could clearly make out its components of garlic and onion paste and a dash of something like Worcestershire sauce. It is true that enjoyment is purely a matter of expectation and of being totally aware of the sensations passing through the system at that point of time.

After some ice-cream at a parlour, we were driving back to the hotel (it was around 11.00 pm) when our driver suddenly stopped the car. I realised that it was one of those police checks where they verify identity cards and passports. I also realised that I had forgotten to carry my passport with me.

I was the last person to be asked. As soon as the policeman (MP) realised that I had no passport, he opened the door near me, told me to get down and walked me to a police van parked nearby. One of the three loacls also descended from the car and stayed with me. The others zipped back to the hotel to fetch my passport.

It was quite a dark road, although with traffic. After a while the MP asked me to get inside the van. His patience was running out, maybe with me not at all reaching for my wallet, and he prepared to take me to the police station. Stephen, the local guy standing outside, requested him to wait a little longer and told the others on mobile to hurry up. After another couple of minutes, in spite of my earnest mental discussions with him, the MP drove off with me, leaving Stephen, my only link with the local world here, out on the road. My only worry was whether these guys would know which particulat police station I would be taken to. I guess the MP told Stephen.

The police station was a barren affair, with a counter under a staircase. The other policeman on duty was asking me in broken English why I was brought here and started to write my name laboriously on a scrap of paper, maybe his idea of a booking form. Finally I wrote it for him. In the meanwhile some superior officer in local costume was passing by and asked me whether I had entered the country legally! As if many people would smuggle their way into this paradise! At that moment my passport arrived and was duly scrutinised (considerably helped by me) for the validity of my visa. The policeman on duty then wanted to see my 'Immunisation Card'! I ask you! That was also at the hotel and I had to convince him that the immigration authorities at the airport would not have let me in if I had not been carrying the card at the airport. All this in broken English and pantomime, mind you! At this point they apparently decided enough was enough (or maybe some money changed hands on the road outside) and they let me go.

Ramesh was waiting outside with the others, quite worried. Actually, harassment in a case like this can go to any extent, including a night in jail. But throughout the incident my tension-level was fairly low. Worried, yes - whether the others would know my whereabouts, whether they would be able to locate my passport in their haste, whether I'll get into some complication from which they will find it difficult to extricate me, etc. But definitely I was able to face the situation with much more equinamity than earlier and at no point did the policemen seem scary. I would like to lay the credit at the door of the kriya that I was doing regularly.

LINK TO CAMEROUN ALBUM

..