A Tale Of Two Guineas

In the morning ze Germans headed for the bus station while I went back to the Bissau harbour which I feel like I know pretty well by now. Once more I had to sit around for hours before my canoa finally filled up and left. This time my destination was Bolama, the first capital of Portuguese Guinea, which is a small island a few hours from the mainland. Most of the old Portuguese buildings have been abandoned and the village has built up further inland leaving a ghost town of ruins and crumbling colonial architecture. The feeling is made even eerier by the thousands and thousands of fruit bats that darken the sky, apparently they are a local delicacy but I was never offered any.

The day I arrived also happened to be my birthday, but as it was a Tuesday, on an island with a population of ten thousand people and none of them knew me I figured it would just be a quiet night, how wrong I turned out to be. As every former Portuguese colony I’ve been to, Guinea Bissau has a huge export of cashews, and on Bolama, cashew season had just started. Although I am allergic to the nut I can eat the fruit and more importantly I can drink the wine made from it, which was being sold at 200 CFA (roughly 35 US cents) a litre. I made some local friends, drank the night away and before I knew it we were at the islands discoteca. That night turned out to be a dance show, but not any dance show, the three stars were all cross dressing men with some serious talent. It really warmed my heart to see the entire village paying to see these performers as homosexuality is usually very taboo in Africa and often illegal, in some cases punishable by death, but here in Guinea Bissau it seemed to very accepted and made for a very memorable birthday. I stayed one more day and then crossed over to the mainland village of São João, where I could catch a series of pickup trucks, on very bumpy dirt roads getting whipped in the face by overhanging branches and then a minibus before I finally reached Saltinho.

Straight away before I had even checked in to my hotel I saw a familiar tent, and there were Stefan and Albert once more. Saltinho was a beautiful relaxed spot, next to a river with some small cascades, we had one final farewell night and the following morning I made for the border with Guinea.

The journey was a lot longer than it looked on the map, I first got a minibus, then sat on the back of a motorcycle for five hours, sorting out the usual immigration issues and a few military checkpoints before reaching Boké. Here I noticed that not only had the language and currency changed, also the “sept place” had turned into a “neuf place.” It was the same old beaten up French car, just now they squeezed in two extra people, making the next part of my journey very cramped. We got stuck at a river for about three hours, because although they have built a series of bridges to cross it, it can only take vehicles in one direction, creating a very long queue on both sides. After then getting a shared taxi, I finally arrived in the downtown area of the Guinean capital Conakry just before midnight, about 15 hours after setting off that morning. I found a cheap place to stay at the Catholic Mission, took a quick shower and then got some much needed sleep. The following day I was really welcomed to the city, I had just withdrawn some money and was doing my usual aimless wandering when I heard a voice shouting. I turned around to see a furious soldier and realised it was of course me he was shouting at.

He told me that the road was closed, I looked around and saw loads of other people walking on this so called closed road, but apologised for my mistake and turned to go back to the way I had come. He said no you have to come with me, and guided me to a military tent, here four other uniformed men were sitting and they told me to show them my documents. Luckily I thought, I had them all on me and showed them proudly. They saw my moneybelt and told me to show them the contents. There was the huge wad of cash I had just withdrawn, plus an envelope with US dollars. They told me I was a suspect of terrorism, because I had been walking towards the presidential palace. I explained in my poor French, that I was very sorry, but I had just arrived and didn’t know any better. Then they told me to empty my pockets, where I had a box containing one of my Swedish snus pouches. I explained it was just tobacco, and explained the Swedish writing, but the evil eyes of the soldier just lit up. He told me this was highly illegal and classed on the same level of narcotics as cocaine and now not only was I a potential terrorist but also a drug smuggler. They were going to have to call their bosses and the police to take me to prison, unless I would be willing to maybe part with some “small money.” Usually I would have called their bluff, but the fact that I had so much money on me, which would simply disappear if it was taken into custody combined with the fact that I didn’t want to miss the Manchester derby which would kick-off in a short while, made me consider my options. They hinted towards my moneybelt, and said $200 should do it. I put my head in my hands, and pretended to almost start crying, I explained this really wasn’t “small money” to me, which was hard considering they knew the contents of my pouch. After about 30 minutes of negotiating in broad daylight with people still passing by on the “closed street” I managed to get them down to 200 000 Guinean Francs (roughly $22) they handed me back my passport and snus and I rushed home, happy I had gotten off lightly but shaking with anger and adrenaline. I decided to not let this get me down, stashed most of my cash at home and went straight back out to watch a brilliant game of football. The first half was terrible, but in the second United pulled off an incredible comeback to beat City 3-2 with Paul Pogba in particularly amazing form, coincidentally or not he happens to be of Guinean descent. The next day I got a pirogue with my newfound friend Joseph, a very strong man who has lost the use of one leg due to Polio, to the beautiful island of Kassa just off the coast. We spent a day walking around the small village and beautiful beaches, just the relaxation I needed after the previous day's drama.

Then one day I visited an acrobatic centre where for free you can watch the incredible acrobats, dancers, drummers, jugglers and contortionists as they practice their routines. There really was so much going on I didn’t know where to look, but I spent almost four hours there mesmerised by their talents. Conakry as a city really isn’t picturesque at all, big, crowded and dirty, which although I’m sure may have it’s charm, will always be the place where I had to pay my first bribe, and after that first day I never felt really comfortable with the huge military presence, trying to avoid the men in camouflage at all costs.