Liberia

30 June: Despite the fact that I was once again crippled by fear of the unknown, the hike to the Liberian border after visiting the highest peak in Guinea Connokry, was not totally unpleasant. A Motorbike ride to Yekepa was followed by a taxi ride to Ghanta, where we waited patiently for the taxi to fill up, while I read Eckardt Tolls’ ‘The New Earth’

Suddenly, just before we left, I got the message in the book. The bumpy ride was pure magic. The trees were beautiful, there were fire flies all along the way and I was just happy, sitting with a huge grin on my face. 6 Hours later, at 22h30, we arrived in Zorzor, covered in dust.

 

Letter from the Superintendent

1 July: I slept like a baby. Although the toilet was past disgusting, all was well in Africa. Our taxi driver from Ghanta, helped us to find a taxi to Voinjama. When the driver asked for $100, everyone burst out laughing. We paid $20 in the end for the 70 km ride. I was still worried about food, but so far, people have always taken care of us.  

Once in Voinjama, we were taken to a guest house, before being sent to the Superintendent, who told us to come back the next morning. We could not go anywhere without his permission. Luckily, the sun came out and we could air our clothes. We discussed the possibility of changing our ticket dates since it was taking longer than we expected.

Bridge to Lisco

2 July: I slept once again like a baby, and the visit to the Superintendent turned out to be quite pleasant. He arranged a recommendation letter and a chartered vehicle for us. I also located some food and we all had a coffee with condensmilk before setting off on our journey.

The new road to Lisco was build by the Texan company and to my horror I noticed the felled trees along the way. The tears just streamed down my cheeks. It felt as if my limbs were being torn from my body. I was warned by Al to keep quiet about the trees.  

We finally arrived in Lisco at 14h00 where the Chief offered us food: rice and bush meat. Trying not to offend anyone, I tried to eat the rice without touching the meat. Afterwards we went for a walk with the Chiefs father, an adorable character that has traveled extensively. I was feeling nauseous and couldn’t believe I was so stupid to eat something my body is not used to. I could just picture myself trying to get up the mountain the next morning.

Bushmeat? NEVER EVER AGAIN!

It looked like it could rain so we slept in the principal’s office in the school. Taking a stroll that night turned into another magical experience. The skies were lined with millions of stars and there were fireflies everywhere.

3 July: It has started to rain during the evening. We were ready at 6h00, expecting 2 guides, a rough forest hike then an elephant path through the savannah to the top. By 7h30, we had 3 smiling guides with guns and pangas and 1 very reluctant grumpy guide, complaining about no breakfast. The whole village knew we were coming to the mountain and expected us a day before. But the 4 guides were only informed at 7h00. They carried no food or water.

The team on top of the mountain

A 2 hour trek followed in the forest and then the big surprise. No savannah. No elephant path. Only shrub. 4 Hours of panga swinging followed. Suddenly I was told we were on top. There was no flat top, just more bush. The next moment the sun came out, the mist cleared and they started chopping down a tree (for the view). Noooooooo! I shouted. Luckily they stopped. I was so happy I have bought food and they were happy to get food. Everyone was happy. They posed for a picture with their guns and the South African Flag. Then it was time to go down. The descent to the forest took 1 hour, the wag 'n bietjie digging into my skin. Then the descent through the forest followed where I felt like Jane, swinging from one branch to another, running down trying to keep up with the guys. At the village, we were treated as heroes. My scars were admired. The walk to the Chief was full of jokes and I felt so at peace.

A similar welcome followed and my scars were once again admired. We were given food (which I declined gently) and then I showed them the pictures. Our driver was happy. The chief was happy, the chief’s wife was happy. When we left, it started to rain. Everyone was happy

Once again I have been privileged to see a beautiful mountain.

• I have picked up 7 empty gun shells on the mountain.
• A helicopter was hovering around, exploring the mountain for iron ore.
• The Texan company has built the road to Lisco to a saw mill and the magnificent trees are being chopped down.

The Liberians are so grateful that people are keen to invest in their land. They are all educated but there are no jobs.

I have been privileged to experience the energy of the forest and the magnificent mountain. I can just pray that who ever does the mining and logging of the trees does it responsibly. Deep down I have a feeling my grandchildren will not be privilege to see what I have seen.

I did not cry again on my way back.

4 July. Our taxi driver was quite aggressive with a music system that didn’t leave too much space for passengers. 5 km into the ride, he stopped and disappeared into the bushes. He returned a happy chappy, reeking of dagga. Music blared all the way to Foya, where motorbikes were our only option to Sierra Leone, so off we went.

7 km down the road, Alan’s driver had an accident and we ended up in the village with a flat tire. They tried to fix it by tying a knot in it. When it didn’t work, my driver jumped on another motorbike and disappeared.  10 minutes later, he was back. We didn’t ask any questions. 2 km further we swapped drivers. Apparently the one motorbike had no brakes. So we were stuck with 1 motorbike with no brakes and the worst driver I have met.

Alan got the good driver on the motorbike with no brakes while I climbed behind the worst driver I have met. 2 km further, I insisted on getting off the bike. He was really bad. It was decided that the bad driver would take the luggage while the two of us will go with the motorbike with no brakes. The road was extremely slippery but I felt 100% safer.

Another bridge to cross

At the border, we were informed by the immigration officers that they didn’t have a stamp. I lost it. First of all, we were convinced we have been overcharged the last couple of days. We have been asked for gifts by just about everyone. Time to get to Senegal was running out. We had no food or water with us. I was petrified to travel anywhere with our bad driver. The problem was solved when Alan went with our good driver to get a stamp at another border post, getting away with only two falls while I tried to ignore all the subtle and not so subtle hints for money.

Once at the other border post, Al’s driver tried to convince him to have both our passports stamped, pretending that I was around before illegally slipping back. Alan refused. The only option then was to pay for an immigration officer to come and stamp our passports where I was waiting. Upon arrival, Al asked if I was feeling strong. I replied: “I can’t deal with this money anymore”. Apparently he felt like crying as well. 2 km to the Sierra Leone border followed. It has been a long journey, and a very long day.



Happy child fetching water