How do I tell this story?

I have managed (yet again) to leave fire in my wake, this time in Freetown, Sierra Leone.

This is a tale of death threats, arrests, virgins, exile and chicken. Revenge is a dish best served cold…

Ingredients

• 1 freshly prepared chicken with rice
• 1 fish dish with West African plantain
• A spicy blue-eyed chick (1/2 Saudi, 1/2 Liberian mixture)
• A delicious bite-sized Blasian virgin, matured 16 years (1/2 Chinese, 1/2 Sierra Leonian mixture)
• An angry mother hen (virgin’s mother)
• 100% premium Irish Beef (aka myself)

Appetizers

Step 1

Allow the Saudi to prepare chicken dinner. After enjoying food, insert penis. After all, she deserves it after slaving in the kitchen.

Step 2

The following night, allow Blasian virgin to prepare fish dinner before bringing it to your place (aka the slaughterhouse). Be warned, mother hen is lurking in the shadows, wary of her young offspring playing by  the slaughterhouse.

Step 3

Time the meal with the Blasian precisely at the moment the Saudi from the night before walks right by your door.

Step 4

Place Blasian inside to avoid Saudi attack. Mix remaining ingredients. Unleash hell.

Results

The Saudi spice overpowers the Irish beef and everything gets ruined. The heat rises and shit turns nasty. Irish beef becomes mince meat. To compensate, add angry mother hen to counteract the Saudi spice. A violence reaction occurs, the street turns into a warzone with twenty people trying to kill each other. The police become involved and assault charges are filed against the mother hen for her vicious attack on the Saudi. Irish beef escapes with a few bruises, consoles the Saudi and once again inserts penis.

Main Course

Step 1

Allow thing to cool down for one day. After which, attempt fish again with ultra-cute Blasian virgin.

Step 2

Spend amazing night with Blasian. Glaze with honey, sweeten with sugar and leave over night. By morning, the sweet 16yo should be de-virgined after being stuffed with Irish beef. Make sure to use oil and cook with love. Add reggae music to make ‘the belly full’.

Step 3

The Blasian beef combo already make a delicious dish. The aftertaste is to die for. To enrich flavour, appease mother hen. This is done by ringing up the Saudi and threatening to file your own assault charges unless the charges against the mother are withdrawn.

Results

The Saudi explodes. The mother hen is arrested anyway and a death threat is issued. The Irish beef is fast approaching it’s expiry date. With corrupt police being allies of the Saudi this is likely to be very soon. Saudi hires beach boys to do the washing up. Go to the Irish consulate and follow his recommendations.

Dessert

There is no dessert for you, just leave to country as soon as fucking possible. Let’s see what Liberia has on the menu…

What have we learned?

Avoid stuffing your face with chicks who live close your slaughterhouse. Hazards include death, mad cow disease and diarrhea.

 

 

Location: Conakry, Guinea.

We’re officially three weeks in. To date, I’ve had more scams and cons tried in West Africa than I have in my entire life; corrupt police, hustlers and thieves. Some of their sinister attempts have been very elaborate indeed. Here are my top three…

3. You broke my phone!

Walking down the road in Bissau, a nervous looking guy is walking my way. He bumps into me, and his phone falls on the ground. He looks at me with sorrowful eyes. The automatic reaction is to bend over and pick it up.

Fail: At the last second I hesitate, my gut tells me something is up. I remember reading about this before. I keep walking. He follows me down the street and starts waving a broken phone in front of my face. My reaction “Fuck off.” End of story. Luckily I was in front of some army dudes so he didn’t get violent.

2. The Bill please…

After finishing our drinks at a nice restaurant, a rather spiffy looking gentleman sits down beside us. “About your bill…” he began. He told us he was the manager. He asks for the correct amount. There is no dispute. Anyone would have happily paid the man.

Fail: Only problem was – we had only just paid the bill! He had obviously knew the price and been monitoring how many beers we had had, but failed to observe the payment. Our friend Harry (British ex-military) got in his face. “Fuck off.” His aggression saw the guy quickly exit. Had the guys plan went correctly… I might well have fallen for it.

1. Super Con

Yesterday, we frantically drove around Conakry looking for an ATM that had money in it – apparently on Sundays the banks run out of money. Our ordeal was shared by another gentleman we met at an ATM in the center – a tourist from Senegal. “Dam, This is a nightmare. I’m in trouble if I can’t get money out!” he said. “Me too!” I returned.

“I know another bank up here” he indeed. He was middle aged and spoke perfect English; sporting respectable attire and nerdy glasses. He asked if he could he share our taxi. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable request.

Him and Gary strike up a conversation in the back seat. He reveals he is a diabetic and needs to buy a (rather expensive) pen to inject his insulin. He even shows the vile.

After driving around the whole city, we have no choice but change some Euros. Unfortunately for our Senegalese friend,  he has no currency! He asks us for a loan of some cash. He’s desperate, he needs his medicine! He might go into a coma. Any decent human being with an once of compassion would help the guy out…

Fail: My friend Gary is a fucking pharmacist! He smelt for keytones of the guy’s breath, analysed the vile and quizzed him. He picked the wrong guys to fuck with. I already thought something was up, but put it down to being paranoid. The guy claimed he didn’t know the area, but knew exactly where to change the money. He told us he already tried cash advances in the hotels and other banks. But more than that, my gut was telling me something was wrong.

When we got back to the room to get our Euros, I shared my suspicions with Gary. He was way ahead of me. When we returned to the taxi, the guy dropped the “Can you lend me money?” line. I told him we only had 20 EUR to our names. It wasn’t long before he fucked off. He wasted a good two hours on the hustle. A good game plan, but he picked the wrong players.

You really got to keep your wits about you when traveling…

Postscript: We had to pay our first bribe today. The processing time for our Sierra Leone visa jumped from three days to one. It took $50 to make it happen. To quote the guy behind the counter… “If you want it hot, you gotta drop it hot.” Hopefully I’ll be in Freetown this time tomorrow…

I’ve done a fair amount of hardcore travel in my time, but nothing could have prepared me for the journey for Bissau (Guinea Bissau) to Labe (Guinea).

Firstly, there was the simple journey from Bissau to Gabu in the north, a smooth four hour journey. There we waited for our transport to fill up for Labe. A few hours past… a few more. Still not full. The heat was unbearable and we had little choice but to wait around the station. We waited, and waited and waited. I couldn’t understand how a seven seater mini-van took so long to fill up. Turns out – it took 22 hours for the fucking thing to fill. We bought our tickets at 1 pm on Monday, and didn’t leave until 11am Tuesday! But that was the good part…

It turned out the wait was merited. There was 21 of us! 16 adults and 5 kids, all crammed into the mini van like sardines. It was the most uncomfortable thing you can imagine. Unfortunately for me, the most heavy set African mama choose her seat right next to me. At the same time I was glad to be leaving… but the fun was only just beginning!

The road got worse the instant we left the station. There was so much pot holes, the 40 km trip to border took 6 hours! Then, in eye shot of the river that separated us from Guinea, we broke down. After a hour and half of baking in the sun, the repairs were made. The next bit is the best….

There was no bridge, only a basic car ferry. The men of our group had to get into a wooden pirogue (a hallowed out tree) and cross the river. Then, we had to physically pull the car ferry 150 meters to the other side! A large metal chain was used, with us laboriously heaving it with all our might. Only to do the same again (this time with the actual van on it!) to reach the other side. It was extremely arduous and we got back on our vehicle caked in dirt and sweat. FUN FUN FUN!

Across the river, we had to deal with a corrupt Guinean immigration officer,  trying to extort a $20 bribe from my friend Gary and I, the only blancos he’d obviously seen in awhile. I was tough in my position and didn’t give him a penny.

On the Guinean side, the roads became nothing more than lumpy dirt tracks. The route was barely functioning and very dangerous. We passed several broken down and over turned vehicles. It was hell. Our vehicle was so packed I couldn’t even find a place to put my feet flat on the ground. As for the fat mama beside me, her left cheek alone cut of the circulation to the right side of my body. It actually became more comfortable to seat on top of two stacked lonely planet books!

Apart from the screaming shitting babies, the smell of sweat was unbearable. To top it off, a young girl decided to vomit all over us from motion sickness. I started to go crazy. The constant bumping and heaving made sleep impossible. We traveled like this for 11 hours Then guess what? ANOTHER manual ferry crossing. Then ANOTHER 7 hours on the unforgiving terrain. It just went on and on and on….AHH!!!

The whole 44 hour trip was a fucking nightmare. Not recommended.

We got to our hotel in Labe at 7AM this morning, caked in mud, sweat and vomit. The first thing we did was order a beer…

It was the best beer I ever had.