Oyibo

Back here in the UK we have a mulit cultural society. We are conditioned to interact in a certain manner.We have, what we are told, is a ' Socially Evolved Society '. In Nigeria it is a Mono Cultural Society. Yes there are over 500 tribes and languages. With three main ones are, Ibo in the west, Hausa in the north and Yoruba in the east.And whilst there are two main religions, Islam and Christianity, culturally, they all sing off the same hymn sheet.( See what I did there.....comedy genius.)

I say all this,as what is ' normal ' here, isn't ' normal ' there. And visa versa.So I wanted to share some mentality differences and some of the incidents born of those differences.Remember, I am the only white man.

" Oyibo ".

All across the African continent I was shouted at, sometimes in a very friendly manner. Sometimes children flocked around me. Sometimes it was with utter contempt. The names I was called all had one thing in common.....they meant 'white man'.

In Nigeria, despite all the different tribal languages and English being spoken to varying degrees. From absolutely nothing to fluent. 'Oyibo' means ' white man '. And the mentality I constantly met was one of interest and intrigue. But also, one of ' you are white, you are rich and i want your money'. Political Correctness does not exist and so honesty flourishes.The people speak much more openly than we do in the UK.Can you imagine a black man shouting out " hey white man " ? And the response being " hi black man " . All said tongue and cheek. But for them, there is no reason to know my actually name, as I am the only white man. So, Oyibo is enough.

Nigeria, along with all of Africa is completely informal, by our standards. Complete strangers will speak to you, as if long lost relatives. People will speak to you briefly at a bar and then just join you at your table.And speak as if you've always known each other.( One of my biggest cultural shocks, has actually been coming back to the UK.And back to everyone ignoring each other.By comparison.) But with this is both good and bad. As in my experience, 90 % had an agenda. An agenda as I was ' Oyibo '. It was to a point that when someone befriended me and sat at my table, I was counting the seconds till he or she wanted something from me.All the pleasant and friendly chat was usually just a sales pitch at the end of the day. But once you know it's a game and don't let on that you do, you are empowered.

Cigarettes and normally Benson & Hedges, are 200 N a packet. ( 260 N to £1.) Your new ' friend' sits at your table and within 2 minutes he will have helped himself to a fag.( Americans reading this. No happy, happy men are involved in this moment.! ) .He then will order a Star beer, costing 300 N. Chat with you like you're his best mate.Tell you he would love to see the UK and when are you going to invite him over. When he gets told its not possible, he gets up and moves onto his next bar. It's cost you a beer, as it's a tab on your table and a couple of cigarettes. Fifteen minutes later, the next one comes over and befriends you......

....' you are white, you are rich and I want your money..'.......

Whilst these moments are both frequent, at almost conveyor belt speed.They don't actually cost too much, yes on principle its wrong. By our social standards. But i promise you, you will never change the African mentality, of how they view the white man.There is a view that we some how magically just have lots of money.Education and hard work are never part of the formula. Just that ' we ' have money.The end.

But I can also confirm, that I have also been invited to tables by complete strangers and treated like a celebrity or something. What ever drink I wanted and ....ahum....just point at which women you want.!!
Women in Africa are completely subservient to the man. Completely.Not only do they look after the home and the children.They make the food, Yam Yam for example, taking hours of pounding with a large pole.Into a tree trunk. To make it eatable.( Its a bit like potato and glue.) Then the women are expected to do ' any lifting in the bush '.You will see them walking with huge stacks of 10 ft long wooden logs on their heads, for miles, back to the mud huts. The men seem to all gather under large trees and stay in the shade.Often drinking Palm Wine.

I did say our cultures and society are very different. Almost to the point of being opposite. Yet, in Africa, it works just fine.

As ' Oyibo ', i did have more than one incident involving guys ramming their elbows into my back, whilst in a club near my hotel.I put up with it twice and then told them what I thought.Which seemed to surprise them.It's a fine line between standing up for decency and being perceived as an arrogant ' Oyibo'.But in my experience, you do it right, other Nigerians come to your aid.

Whilst in the same club, I was invited over to table. The guy who invited me kept getting up to have his picture taken, mainly with girls. Turned out he was from Ethiopia, spoke fantastic English and had just won Big Brother Africa.The man next to him sent a message over to me, apparently he was a famous DJ in Calabar. And when he found out my motorbike story, wanted to interview me.

That night as I walked the 200 m back to my hotel.At the bottom of the road I was staying on, lay some logs. ( Which means illegal road block.) Knife in my right boot, but with alcohol in my body....out jumped two men with huge machetes!!! Machetes raised and shouting. I lowered my head slightly, turned my empty hands towards them and just said " Oyibo". " How's it going, are you security "  ? ( Local Vigilantes. ) They said ' yes '. Accepted I wasn't a threat and walked me to my hotel. Me talking all the way.....and no, I have no idea what i was saying. I just wanted to keep them on side. One of them scrapped his machete along the railings of the metal Hotel fence and shouted the security inside.Certainly could have been a different moment, but it all worked out in the end.It helps if you know how they think. Or at least try to.

Next blog is about how I sold my little motorbike in Nigeria and the final bribes I paid to get out of the country.

I've put myself through al ot and cost myself my home, all possessions and now my savings.I'm not claiming the dole and am living off my Overdraft. Daily I risked my life all across Africa. I did it to raise awareness and donations for wounded servicemen.They sit in wheel chairs....without legs. Help me to help them stand, stand with dignity. Please click the Help for Heroes logo top right. Make a donation please.

Will

Jumbo gets his 9mm out! !!

Tongue and cheeck with the title, but non the less,yet another moment in a week packed full of them.

I comsidered how to write about the ten days in Calabar. So many incidents and just one blog entry. So I'm splitting it into two. And going to give you a rounded account of each incident.

During the course of my time in Nigeria, I saw lots of armed police and army. Running check points and pulling vehicles over. Basically the uniformed police are close to Mafia, in standards of corruption. Using their official position to get money out of anyone they can. A white man is rich remember, and is guaranteed to be approached for money. Who you going to call? ( who said Ghost Busters ??)

The Army will expect a tip as you go through their check points. Despite there being a big sign,that says, "Do not give money to the soldiers.  It is an offence. "

The least corrupt and most professional are Immigration Officers. They are the first and last Nigerians you will meet. The ones I met did their jobs very well. Were educated, polite but firm. And simply want to ensure you are allowed in Nigeria. And were proud to represent their country. They can stop, search and arrest you. And arguably have more power than the average police man.

Twice during my stay in Nigeria, plain clothed Immigration Officers took me to one side. Wanting to check my visa and reasons for being in Nigeria. I'm not hard to find. I was the only white man I saw !!

The Immigration Officer Incident

My hotel was a decent standard and had a bar directly opposite that did food. So of a night I'd pop over. The owner,Otwo,was SCID. ( Plain clothed cop.) As was his Manager's brother,Jumbo. Who based himself there,with the police radio and responded to calls. He was armed with a 9mm Browning, tucked inside the right side of his belt. Under his shirt.

One night, whilst sat outside in the bar. A Immigration Officer came directly upto me. Identified himself and asked to see my visa. We went to my hotel, just 30m away. I asked him to show his ID card in front of the Reception staff. Who made a note of his name and number. (Ada Stevens.)

After ten minutes of repeatedly looking at my visa. He said ' my boss wants to see you. I'm going to have to arrest you.  You should have left a few days ago.' I told him my visa was in date and would leave when I wanted to. ( First red flag. A hotel member of staff had said almost an identical sentence to me.)

He repeated himself and then said.  Or...' you can pay for my taxi and i will leave '. That's code for give me money.  I gave him 2,000N .He left my room and I returned to my table at the bar. Jumbo was sat next to me,along with a few other locals. I was seathing,on principle. He'd either acted illegally and got money out of me. Or it was a fake ID.

Not 5 minutes later.....who walks back in the bar??? The 'immigration officer '! At that exact moment I knew it was a con. I jumped up, and shouted Jumbo.  "You're a lier and a thief'.I said to him. I said ' you are a fake '!! To which he ran...myself, Jumbo with his 9mm out and some of the bar staff in hot pursuit.

He ran straight to my hotel. How good of him. Within seconds he was on his knees. Jumbo had his 9mm Browning against his forehead. Demanding to know the truth. They spoke in tribal language. So I didn't know what was being said.  Jumbo just nodding to me and saying ' he admits it'. I took a nice big swing and slapped Ada Stevens. Aka Immigration Officer across the face with the back of my hand.

I was fuming but buzzing at the same time. As always, these things happen very quickly. Yet slowly at the same time.

(As a heads up.  I at this stage,thought he'd got a fake ID. And was a bogus Immigration Officer. )

Into the back of Jumbos Honda Accord. Me to the right of the thief. Jumbo driving.  Well...I took one look at him. And before I knew it,I'd punched him square in the face.  His lip burst,the blood splattering all over Jumbos kneck and head rest. The back of the seat and my seat. The thiefs lip completely split.

Off we went to the Calabar Police Station. 

Ooops!!! Turned out he was a genuine Immigration Officer. An official of Nigeria. But had seen my name on a hotel residents sheet in his office.  And had decided to do some private work. Using his position to exstaut money. ( Myself and jumbo both think he had a contact at the hotel. )

The 2000N went into 'Evidence'.Read beer money for the police.  The Immigration Officer tried to get out of it. But was locked up in jail for four days and released to appear in court.

Not wanting any hassle myself.  I wrote a letter to the police requesting all charges to be dropped. Which was accepted.

So just one of many incidents in one week in Calabar Nigeria.  Not all Nigerians are bad. Far from it. I didn't catch that con man. ' We ' caught him. And boy it felt good.

Remember I've crossed thirteen countries.  Two continents.  Lived in  the Sahara Desert, the jungle and the bush. All to raise awareness and donations for wounded servicemen.  Servicemen who sit in wheel chairs.

If you like what I've been doing, the sacrifices I've made....Please please please click the help for heroes logo.

Thank you

Will x

Calabar

Calabar....what to say. Well, if there were a Head Quarters for scams, lies, blags, con men, racism and violence. Calabar is where it would be !!

You are not a person with a name. You are simply ' the white man,you are rich and I want your money' . At no stage was I in the minority,  I was simply ' the only white man '.

I was in a half decent hotel in Calabar. It had wifi, all be it intermittent, due to the power cuts. Which was on ,off , like Morse Code.

I was in Calabar to buy my Visa for Cameroon.  The border of which,  was about two hours away. Cameroon,  like Nigeria,  has a lot of armed illegal road blocks. They have logs across the road, then long planks of wood with six inch nails coming out. Attached to rope. If you try to go through the road block, the rope is pulled, the plank with nails blocks the road. You ride over the nails, the bike tyres will be shredded.  Then the vigilante come at you,armed with machetes.

You are not in the UK. You are not in Europe. Nobody is coming to help you. There are no police to call. It's kill or be killed.

Which brings me onto a very tough decision I had to make. My bike needs fuel, petrol.  I need fuel,it's called donations. Due to hitting saturation point, my challenge has barely had a donation in six weeks. 

Whilst in Calabar, I decided that to risk my life daily. And risk it I did,was futile. The whole point of the Challenge was to raise money for our wounded servicemen.  And despite mine and others best efforts. We could not get the Challenge into the national media.

So with tears in my eyes,I decided to sell my bike in Nigeria. And make my way back to the UK.  Total raised so far.....nearly £7,500. Not too shabby. With this,we have definitely helped to improve the lives of our wounded servicemen. Many of whom are without arms and legs. Can you imagine that ??

"No money for you ",say our politicians! ! All whilst they give away £12,000,000,000 of our British Tax payers money. To countries like India and China. Both of which have Space Programmes! ! Disgusts me to the very core.

I am going to do two more blogs. Next one will be the numerous incidents I was involved in. Whilst in Calabar. To give you a taster.  They involve constant scams. Demands of money from Police.  A 9mm Browning pistol at someones head.Machetes at mid night. Selling my bike to an under cover cop. Oo the list goes on.

The "thank you's " are coming.

Will

Nigeria. A land of contrast.

Nigeria I'm told, is the 8th wealthiest country on the planet.You will need to check that. I am not the Discovery Channel. Yet,I guess, in my own way, I am. Of a fashion :)

Abuja is only twenty odd years old. Purpose built to be Nigerias new capital. It's new found wealth,born of huge oil reserves. A capital city to reflect and represent that.

The roads are good, the water is always available, as is electricity. When it does fail,lots of diesel generators kick in. All privately owned by the given business. There are western type food chains. Small, but modern shopping centres, bars and all you'd expect say in Europe. Most are high end. The prices being at the least, the same as Europe. At the least. Bottle of beer...? Upto £5 !! Small Pizza and Fanta ?? £10 .All are crawling with security. Scanners and metal detectors at the entrances. And the Army and Police are never far away. :)

Outside of the bad. Which I'm coming to. Almost all the Nigerians have been very respectful. Very. Always calling me ' Sir ' or even ' Master '. Upon arriving anywhere, I receive,  ' Sir you are welcome '. All the time. Did you expect that ? I didn't.

Nigeria, on that front, it has been a absolute pleasure. I hope to return to Abuja. They always like a white man to front a business. It gives them more credibility. So you never know. I'm interested.

But it's definitely not all roses and cottages. That's for sure. Illegal road blocks !!! Huge tree trunks in the road. Planks of wood with six inch nails in them. Men sometimes armed with rifles and machetes. Looking to get money. But you don't see white men. Ever!! They are in Abuja or Calabar. So when I turn up, they shout at me. Annoyed I've slipped through their road block. I do it by waiting for a truck,van or finally,a car. And fly through at the last second, on the blind side.

A blog is a quick snap shot. I can't share everything. But Nigeria is certainly not all bad. I've liked the mentality I've met and the majority of the people.

Road Signs. Imagine trying to drive around your own country without any road signs ! There are non here...zero. ..narda...non. 600 km in two days. And a mixture of the best roads in Africa. And the absolute worst. No GPS, no map and no bloody road signs. Imagine that! !!! Make it easy for me Nigeria. ..Cheers !!

Long story short. Between yesterday and today, I've covered around 600 km. Not much ?? Well today I went totally off the grid. Really for the crack. There was a proper road. But I just wanted to cut across country. And off my home made map. Just going on less than a dust road. Much less. Close to just guessing really. Following my nose. Through bush villages and jungle. Thick jungle now. Everyone just gob smacked. But for some reason the illegal road block men, cheered me. Three separate road blocks. I salute them and they salute back. No idea what it's all about. But it's worked so far. :) Fingers.

Until, I came across a dried river. Completely in the middle of nowhere. No idea even now. All dirt dust and rock. And as I entered the river, half a dozen men jumped up. They were all digging. No idea again. All were shouting and un be known to me, they had a Bamboo blockade.  But...here's the but. They ran to lift it. And were prepared to help push my bike,up the dried river bank.

As non were armed and I was. I actually stopped. Not a great move maybe. But we spoke, middle of the jungle and their English was good. And that's rare in Nigeria. I explained my story. They seemed to like it a lot. Asked for a gift. I said I had my own money problems. ( I'm at £500 and it's going fast.) But gave 50 Naira. About 20 p. We all shook hands, which is done over hand and a mutual finger click. And I continued along the tiny dirt track. ( Lucky. )

After several hours I hit tarmac. No idea where I was. But logic said I was going in the right direction. Not one minute later, my chain came off my bike. Stretched loads by the past 100++ km of off roading. It was hanging.

A lad pointed me to a hut which fixed the usual Chinese bikes. I was instantly surrounded by a good dozen men. The atmosphere was mild aggression towards me. I kept my cool and was polite. But didn't show the worry I had inside. The eldest and largest began to grill me. Quickly telling me. ... " your people colonised us ". He wasn't a happy bunny.  ( My knife strapped to the inside of my left arm. )  I said I was old, but not that old and wasn't there. And asked how he was. He said..." ahhh but you received some of the benefits. .."!!

I did consider mentioning my country had also been colonised, by the Romans ( Italians), the Normans, ( the French ), the Vikings, ( the Danish).....and of course three Germanic tribes. The Angles, the Saxon and little known Judd. ( Poor Judd never get a mention. ) But the moment didn't seem too right for a history lesson.  And just said "...well its getting poorer now....if that helps "  To  which he said " good ". And offered me water.

Bike wise. O have a guess....I broke the frame! !! Luggage rack that is. A number of bolts rattled free too. And the rear suspension bottoms out a lot. I actually don't think the shocker has gone again. Just that with the weight of all my kit and the limited travel, the tyre sometimes hits the fender. Photos below.

Bit of a long one today. I'm in a town called Aplapum. A bush town. No roads or banks or anything. The very basic Guesthouse costing 2,000 N.Electicity after 7pm. Stand in a bucket and throw water on yourself, for your ' shower ' ! ive eaten chicken and rice. With pepper sauce. And enjoyed it. Very spicy.No white men in these parts. That's for sure. Meal was 500 N. Restaurant owner very pleased I complemented the food so much. They expert white men to be eating something else.

Lots happens I can't put in this blog.
Photos of the village bush track. Good 100 km worth. Will check exact distance. I think further. Women washing clothes and child in the river. My bathroom and shower buckets. And me dripping with swet and really cool helmet hair. ( dont be rude.) Writing this and going to sleep. Will upload in Calabar. Via wifi, when I find it . Phone has gone all bold on me. :)

But I am doing all of this for wounded servicemen. Men and women without arms. Without legs ! Can you begin to imagine ? Sat in wheel chairs. Abandonded by the polititions who sent them to war. " NO MONEY FOR YOU "!! all whilst they write a cheque for £12,000,000,000... in so called ' aid '!!!  Get your priorities right.!!!! Stop giving money to India and China. Who both have space programmes. British tax payers money should be spent on the British. .....

....or is it correct that we leave our servicemen in with no legs,no dignity,in wheel chairs ??

Help me to help them. X

Please click the HELP FOR HEROES LOGO AND SHOW YOUR SUPPORT. please make my efforts worthwhile.

Calabar tomorrow and get the Cameroon Visa. Should be in Cameroon in 48 hrs.

Please make a donation. Click the Help for Heroes logo.

Thank you.

Will x

Abuja

Ok. Just a quick one. As I've written this once already. But won't upload.

Angola is not issuing visas. The end. And that's why I'm here in abuja. So.....I'm going to have to ship around the country. No idea how. But that's what I have to do. Will let you know,  just as soon as I know :))

Abuja is pretty nice. No more bush meat. No more illegal road blocks. No more civilians with guns. ( That I can see anyway. )

When I was in the last town,getting my bike fixed. A crowd of one hundred people arrived. Kids from the school. It was crazy. It was bloody embarrassing! ! Head Master came out with the cane,to get his pupils back. Lol.

A grand " bonjour et merci " to Jean Luc and the Corsican bush. :))

Captains Log: I've been in Abuja for three days now. I'm staying at the Sheraton !!! Well, actually, I am camping in my tent, at the rear of the Sheraton ! For Overlanders out there, there has been a change in pricing.

Previously it was 500 N a day and a three day minimum stay. That changed last week. It is now 5000 N a day and five days minimum stay. So not cheap. The staff here are 5 star. But the building is 2 star in places. Worn and run down. And along with all of Abuja, is only twenty years old. The camping is around the back. You can use the hot shower in the squash courts. The pool. And wifi, from the Business Center is 2000 N per 24 hrs. Security is tight,  as is all of Abuja. There must be twenty security guards around and in the building. Armed soldiers on the main entrance at the front and rear.

Abuja it's self is nice. There is definatley money here. Born of the oil industry. But that wealth is held by the very few.Enjoyed being here and getting some of lifes luxuries. A hot shower. Actually, a shower, not stood in a bucket, has been nice. Pizza, yes Pizza. Very expensive. Can't afford it, 2000 N for a small one. Fast Food chain Mr  Biggs, does chicken and rice for 1000N. And is what I've been living off since arriving in Abuha. Green taxi's are everywhere, as are private motorists. All tooting their horns. Negotiate your price, when white, they will over charge you. When they say 500 N, the real price will be 300 N. If he insists, walk away and just put your hand out again. Another car will stop in a few seconds. 

Here are some photos.

Breaking up might be hard. But breaking down in Nigeria isn't a giggle either!

Due to my bike problems yesterday and the Nigerian roads being some of the worst in Africa. I was only at Jebba. No idea how far that is away from Abuja. And when I ask any Nigerian, I get " ooow very far...very far "!! They simply have no clue. They ask why I'm in Nigeria, I explain. "...I came from London,  riding my small motorbike..."  They then say, " so you fly here today"!! Ahhh man. Same every single time.

So having had my carburettor cleaned and ' all good now ', I left Jebba. I was told there were no illegal road blocks on the way to Abuja. Let me tell you, they can't count. I rode through a number. If I can, I'm not stopping for any of them.

One had three guys. No rope running over the road to a plank of wood, with a hundred six inch nails. No,they missed that bit out. And went straight to rifles. Two had rifles, very old or traditional. Totally unrecognisable. I'd even say they were 100 years old. Ruddy great long things. The third had a two foot mashiete strapped to his chest. ' Nice friendly lads '.

The first 100 km or so was very slow. I like the red dust tracks, however bad they are. It's good fun. But when it's tarmac, but with bomb crater sized pot holes. It's just slow,slow,slow. I don't understand how or why. But my exhaust hits my rear tyre now, when going over this sort of terrain. Shock absorber off the XT works well mind. :))

Then the breakdown began. No AA here mind, nobody to call. And whilst I know I'm no author, I assure you, I'm equally challenged with mechanics. Or lack of.

Splutter,splutter. 5 mph and to a halt. My guess its fuel based issue. Carb has red dust in it,I'm guessing. So I had the carb off the bike twice today, middle of Nigeria. Just what you want. And no joy. Sputter,splutter. I managed to get to a small town,come village. And found a shack which was fixing the usual Chinese 125's. I only had 420N on me. But they changed the plug straight away and tried cleaning the main fuel pipe. I asked for the carb. to be cleaned. But English isn't really understood by everyone. Not remotely. Plus I think he was just a guy who could change a chain. But true problems, were beyond him. Whilst he worked away,a crowd gathered. I'm not joking. ...It was sixty strong! !! Sixty. ( I'm not getting my camera out in Nigeria. Plus you just have ' tourist' written all over you.) And for me, that shouts future victim.

The rest of my day was spent at 5/10 mph. The swet pouring off me,as no breeze to cool me down in the enduro suit. Was a bit concerned today. Bike broken,I can't fix it. Middle of nowhere. In Nigeria. Illegal road blocks everywhere. Armed men. And to top the lot, whilst off roading, my water had bounced out my baggage!  So if I'd had to wild camp,I had nothing to drink. And its about 3 litres of water a day you need. Minimum.

I managed to splutter to a good sized town,about 20km from Abuja. I saw a bank,which is rare. Grabbed £40. ( I'm now down to £400 plus overdraft. ) Found a cheap Guesthouse and have organised to take the bike to someone at 8.15 am tomorrow.

On the plus side. Today was day three with just a bowl of rice inside me. But the Guesthouse owner sent me out with a worker to a western style restaurant. I've just had a chicken leg and meat pie. Fan bloody tastic !!! Nailed it in 5. Forget cheap African prices....more than Europe. I just can't eat bush meat. It's what came with my rice three days ago.

So, just another day of challenges. I will be happier when my bikes fixed. I just doubt the knowledge of some of these guys here. It's self taught, standards vary drastically. And they will never have seen this sort of carburettor before. We shall soon find out.

Glad to be in a bed, with a plan and possible solution. So its not all bad. The Guesthouse has intermittent power, as usual. So the pump for water doesn't work. So the maid brings two buckets. One with water. You stand in the first bucket. And by using a bowl, scoop water from the second. And Bob's your tea pot, you've had a shower. Sorry for the photo. :)) Hopefully I shall be camping in the grounds of the Hilton Hotel Abuja tomorrow. :))

Then it's over to Angola Embassy number four !! And try and get that visa. :))

...." this time next year......"

Will.x

Splutter splutter...

So I found a Guesthouse in Llorin. A Guesthouse is not a victorian 3 storey building, run by Dot and her elderly husband Burt. It's two tennis courts in size. Has an eight foot surrounding wall. And a row of rooms,similar to a US motel. There is always a Guardian or Security.

This one had a bar and some food. Having had my ' shower '. ( me stood in a big bucket,throwing water over myself from a second bucket. ) I went to the ' restaurant '. Well....I mean I'm a fussy eater in England. I'm always getting moaned at over it. So eating in Africa is not easy for me. I asked for rice and chicken. ( its a safe bet.) ' No chicken '...just beef. Result.  I thought. Out comes my rice and ' beef '.....ahum. it was cow spine and chilli soup . " hhhhm...always fancied a bit of spine " !

In the guesthouse complex,I sat with twenty or so locals. Watching Nigeria v Morocco. 4-3 Nigeria. I was the centre of attention.  No annanimity here for a white man. You are constantly being watched . Akin to an alien has landed. We actually had some deep conversations. These Nigerians tend to big guys. I simply keep it simple. I'm respectful, I have my knife in my left boot. I do stand my ground. But without any attitude. It works.

I had a quick two hours out and about in Llorin. A guy from the Guesthouse glad to 'help' me. Which is code for,you pay me after. Almost, almost no 'help' in Africa is for friendship alone . Taxi moto, is a taxi motorbike. They are all Chinese, the bikes,not the riders. Cost 100N for a short journey. The taxi moto in the photo took me to the damn. Wasn't too exciting. Nice crash helmet though ...because that won't come off. ;)

Nigeria is apparently the 8 th richest country in the world. You'll need to check that. Well, the roads are terrible! ! The drivers insane. Don't be surprised to see cars and bikes driving on the wrong side of the road. And boy have I had some close shaves. Mental.

Yesterday, I'm riding centre of my side of the road. A truck heading towards me on the other side. A truck behind that one. It takes a look to over take. He can't bloody miss me. Head light on,im in the middle of the road. He over takes anyway. He's coming directly at me. No room left on the road for me. Just me being splattered on his bonnet. No joking.  He was say, 200 m away now. Head to head and only one winner. No road left.  I had to jump the bike off the road and onto the dust track,some two feet below the actual road. Nice moment. Liked that a lot. !!! Happened again today. Hey ho. Mad, mad and more madness.

My bike has been almost un rideable today. Spluttering, no power at all . Big problem for me. Middle of the Nigerian bush, with a broken bike. Just what you want. Some sort of fuel blockage. I cleaned the air filter and changed the plug. And still splutter,splutter, splutter. 5 mph.

I just managed to get into Jebba. Having spluttered my way through an illegal road block. ( That had the bottom twitching.  ) " work. ...go..work.." splutter ,splutter. Whistles blowing and shouting, as I ignored their road block.

My bike came to a halt outside a hut, with Chinese bikes being repaired . 20 minutes later my carb had been cleaned, my chain adjusted. And whilst far from running correctly, is now  workable. Of a fashion.

I'm now on my bed in a house. A Guesthouse. About 1 km outside Jebba. It's THE house with water. As it had a bore hole dug. Er...for water. So all the local houses come here to use the outside tape. They come with big trolleys, carrying 20 lt water containers. As a result, I've had a few conversations in English, with some of the locals. All good. One girl arrived for water. Her name ? Loveit! Had to smile inside. " reaaaally " .

My bike = ..." ...I've changed the head twice and the handle three times. .....but it's still the same broom..."

' ...onwards and upwards Rodney. ...onwards and upwards. ...'

Tomorrow Abuja. X

Will

What a day....

Up bright and breezy, with a view to an early start and definitely a day light finish.

Working on the principle that these illegal road blocks will go onto late into the night. The bad guys will be having a lay in. So I set off from Pobe,early doors. some 10 km from the Nigerian border.

Not 7 km later it was dark red dusty track, as a road. And slap my thigh with blissful glee,I had a puncture. A six inch nail, used on the illegal road blocks to stop the traffic. Was hanging out of my rear tyre. " Gosh..good ", I said.

Bike un rideable and now in the jungle, miles from anywhere. And I doubt if the AA would respond. Time to get my thinking cap on. My bike doesn't have a centre stand. Making taking the rear wheel off alone, somewhat of a challenge.

A long story short. A local tribesmen turned up. Followed by three more. Followed by half a school, all dressed in brown uniform. Between us we got the wheel off,changed the inner tube and got it blown up. An hour of sweating my bits off. Now with a crowd of about twenty around me and the bike. Strange. Not one word of English and not one word of French was said. They only spoke tribal.... photos below.

"...onwards and upwards Rodney..."

Through Benin Customs without any hassle. Now for Nigeria. With fingers crossed, that choosing a remote boarder crossing was the right thing to do.

Into Nigeria Immigration, a hut on the left side. Where I was grilled about my visit. Despite having a visa. Until the penny dropped. ( I now always explain I've ridden my bike from England. It throws them off any bribery game.) Passport all stamped up,they even asked to have photos next to me. Result. Then over to Health Desk,to show my Yellow Fever card. ( Another small hut.)Then I was called to the SS Office. To which I said " sounds about right ". Thankfully he had no idea. SS, means Secret Service. Had a quick chat and some more forms. Then over to Nigeria Customs.

It started all strict and official. Scrutinised everything. So glad I bought new bike insurance. All my baggage off the bike. Into the building, checked for drugs and weapons. 2 hrs worth. The head of Narcotics being also present. After I explained my story,it all changed again. Back to asking for photos. The head of Narcotics taking a wrist band off and giving it to me ! Which was a great gesture.They even forgot to charge me for my Lassier Passer. Which should be 5,000 N. Result !!!

And into Nigeria. ..remember I don't have the luxury of gps. Due to Suzuki GB. So just my home made map. As usual.

A typical scene: By the road side,you can clearly see large logs,lots of them. A hut,some string running over the road. Attached to a wooden board,with a hundred or so nails sticking out. 12 times I went through illegal road blocks. Each time I waited for a car to go ahead and as it slowed down, for the road block,id over take down the centre line. The car or truck obscuring the view of the ' Vigilante' gang. I'm sure at least four times I went through Official road blocks. They had uniforms and were shouting, but me "no comprendo".

"...onwards and upwards Rodney. ."

The road at times was terrible. It had been raining and I soon was filthy. Pretty sure i was running parallel to the road I actually wanted. Mine was red and muddy. It should have been tarmac. A number of times locals shouted at me. And it didn't seem to smell of roses and love. But I pushed on through the jungle until I hit a tarmac road. Then asked someone for Abeokuta. The bike and I now covered in red dirt. And I like that a lot !

I got to my first pit stop at about 4 pm and found a basic Guesthouse. 3,000N. Just north of Abeokuta. The family were Muslims and very helpful. The power is intermittent. Which means the water is. A problem across Africa. Photo of me in a bucket. Having a ' shower '.The room was good. Made acceptable, as the family owning it, were so nice. ( I was actually offered the daughter by the mother.Now that's service!!. ) I wanted to get food in me before nightfall. They escorted me to a locals restaurant. Knife now in left boot.The chicken and rice was fantastic. Best I've had in Africa. ( Usually chicken here is skin and bone. Hardly any meat.) Not here though, it was massive. Covered in a natural chilli sauce. It was on the money. O and it cost 600 N with a water. Then it was one bottle of beer at their cousins shop,next door to the Guest house. All tucked up in my room by nightfall. Watching black and white Nigeria soap. Hhhmmm

In the morning one of them gave me a wrist band,for good luck. Not to be outdone, the daughter, about 20 ish,came over. " I want to give you a gift "....and she put a watch around my left wrist. How nice.

I am starting look like a model in the Next Catalogue. African Edition. Kneck lace from a tribesmen in Burkina Faso. Knife from the Toureg in Mali. Two wristbands from Nigeria and now a watch. Never mind that lot....where's the oil .:)

I feel very privileged actually. They are all gifts for safe passage. X

Will

PS For security reasons. Very few photos will be taken in Nigeria. In public.I'm not giving anyone an extra opportunity. Hope you understand.