| Written by Jo,
on Tue 5 Aug 08
|
During our journey across West Africa, we have crossed 7 borders and have met many immigration officials who have checked our visas, stamped our passports and written out their registers (with the exception of the crossing at Kirawa, from Nigeria into Cameroon where Bruce was recruited to write out the register for the very pleasant official!). However, we have also had to visit the customs officials the "Douane" at each border to show them our Carnets de Passage and to get them stamped. On almost each occasion, Bruce and I have been sitting in a little hut with the Customs man and after we have shown the officials where they need to sign and which part of the Carnet they need to keep, we have usually managed to be on our way within half an hour.
I particularly enjoyed meeting the Douane official when we entered Nigeria. She at first seemed to be a very serious lady but after the usual routine of showing her where to sign etc, she asked me whether I had any pets which I was bringing into the country. I replied "No. Just four men" at which point she laughed and gave me a very sympathetic and knowing look. As everything had gone so smoothly with the Carnets the team naturally assumed that when we entered Cameroon, there would be no problems. How wrong we were. When we entered Cameroon on Sunday evening, at the border at Kolfata, it was already dark and the customs official told us that as his bureau was a secondary customs post we would have to drive to Maroua with an escort that evening to get the carnets stamped. After waiting for an hour his boss arrived and informed us this would not be necessary but that we would have to go to Maroua on Sunday morning. Sunday morning arrived and off we went to Maroua. Bruce and I entered the little room only to be told "Today is Sunday. The Chef does not work on Sunday. You must go to Garoua on Monday morning." We were not too concerned by this as Garoua was our destination for that evening and as long as they were stamped everything would be OK. We arrived at the main customs office for the Northern Province on Monday morning at 9 am. This was bureaucracy at its best - long queues of people queing to see various officals in dark hot offices and everybody looking as if they were not quite sure what they were doing there. Bruce and I were shown into the Customs Official's office. He was an extremely pleasant man but a look of fear entered his eyes when I presented him with the orange carnets. He had never seen a carnet before and tried to convince us that we needed to complete a different document. We explained that we had to have the carnets stamped and it was then that we reached stalemate. The next two and a half hours consisted of him running backwards and forwards to his boss who also did not know what a carnet was and then coming back to us to explain that he could not sign the carnet and that we would have to speak to the Chef of the office who would not be back in Garoua until some point later that day (possibly). At one point he mentioned that we would have to go back to the point of entry into Cameroon to get them stamped. Bruce and I consulted over how to break the deadlock, we wondered whether we could grab the stamp while he was out of the office, make a mould and then become Douaniers for a day but as we had no plasticine or putty to hand we rejected this plan. It was at this point that Bruce decided there was only one thing for it - he would demonstrate his dancing skills in the hope of terrorising him into signing the carnets. Bruce stood up and then crying out and grabbing his right calf muscle he hopped all around the room in his oil covered trainers and blue socks. The plan worked - the official was so shocked that he ushered us out of his office into the office of the deputy Chef du Bureau where he agreed to stamp the two carnets. Finally we were on our way! Our drive through the highlands of northern Cameroon over the last few days has been no less challenging but far more rewarding. The mountains are covered in dense vegetation of every shade of green and nestled into the trees are thatched roofed clay brick houses with pointed roofs. The houses are closely grouped together in the villages and it creates the appearance of lots of pointed hats peeping through the leaves. There is no electricity in the villages and the smell of woodsmoke burning rises up through the cooler mountain air. Women walk along the rust coloured dirt roads carrying large pots on their heads filled with everything from clothes which they wash at the riverside to items of food which they have bought or are going to sell in the local markets. The children play with old rubber tyres pushing them along the road with wooden sticks and the goats seem intent on joining the Battlestar Africa team! |
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WELL DONE!!!! 
