TDI: 3 What's this?
Bioko Island – This country is weird!
Guinea Ecuatorial is one of the 10 least visited countries in the world… Exciting! Half of the population lives on the island, and the other half on the mainland, between Cameroon and Gabon. I have decided to visit the island. Can’t go wrong with the tropical islands! I am at the Lagos, Nigeria airport. While waiting for my flight to Malabo, the capital of Guinea Ecuatorial, I was browsing online for some basic info about the country. I was also trying to find out, why is this country one of the 10 least visited.
“One of the most corrupt countries in the world,” says one of the websites. “Most of the people live below the poverty line,” says another one… It seems like a good explanation of why nobody comes to that country, but then again, I can find exactly the same info for 70% of African countries and 50% of the countries of the world. So that statistics did not tell me much. Americans and Europeans just don’t get it… In any country that has a lower standard of living than ours, we declare them as poor. It would be more accurate if we look at ourselves as “rich” instead of “average”. Then we would be able to describe other countries’ standard of living more accurately. And we would also feel more grateful for our lifestyles.
I was also looking for the population info: 84,000… Really? That’s all? Then elsewhere I found the same number, but next to it says data from the year 1968… What is going on with this country? My curiosity kept growing. An interesting fact is, this is the only Spanish-speaking country in Africa. Then I started looking for the latest news, in order to find out if there are any riots, civil war, or any type of terror currently going on. Nothing really. I couldn’t find the news that would prevent me from visiting this mysterious country.
So I landed. I took a ride from the airport to the guesthouse. Surprise: the roads were great, and most of the buildings looked new… coming from Nigeria (and before that Niger, and before that Benin), my first impression was I have arrived in one of the richest countries in Africa!
Then I tried to estimate the population of the city… It’s gotta be around half a million. The next thing I have noticed is the prices. It looks like accommodation, food, and transport are twice more expensive than in the countries I have visited before my arrival here. That is usually, but not necessarily, a sign of a higher standard of living.
Guinea Ecuatorial is full of immigrants from West Africa: Nigeria, Ghana, Cote Ivoire, Burkina Faso, Cameroon… After spending 10 days on the island, I got the impression half of the population are immigrants. All of them spoke either English or French. Since they had to learn Spanish, Guinea Ecuatorial is probably the only country in Africa where it’s common to speak at least 2 Western languages. And on top of that, most of them speak at least one African language as well.
So just to summarize: good infrastructure, good cars, higher prices, and high immigration all point to a conclusion: this is not one of the poorest countries in the world, not even close… What fuck, Google?! Get on top of the geography!
I’m in trouble!
Let’s change the subject and talk about nature, shall we? The island seemed to be very jungly at a glance. Excited to explore the hikes, as well as the beaches. One of the things I have noticed on the map is Pico Bastile National Park. It’s supposed to be the highest point on the island. Gotta check it out!
So I got on a local bus that goes in that direction. I got off at the junction, where the hill road towards the peak begins. At the beginning of the road, there was a ramp and a rusty police shack next to it. I walked over. The shack was abandoned. The hill road looked quiet, with nobody on it. I was looking for some sort of sign like “No trespassing”, or “Access prohibited”. Maybe the ramp is for cars only, but I could still walk up? There’s only one way to find out.
I didn’t wanna think for too long since there were a few houses nearby. I didn’t want the neighbors to hustle me, charge illegally for the entrance, and bother me with the idea of how I needed a guide, etc.
So here I started ascending the hill road, which was also very well-paved. I was wondering if it will eventually turn into a dirt road. I wasn’t quite sure if I was allowed to hike here.
The tropical rainforest was absolutely magnificent. A pure natural botanical garden! No cars or people on the road. I started to feel good… relaxed… excited about what was higher… what’s the view like. I also felt proud I managed to enter the National Park without paying or being hustled.
After about 20 minutes of hiking, I saw a car coming down, towards me. First encounter with a human since I passed the ramp. The driver stopped next to me and asked me what I was doing there. I responded I’m hiking to the peak. Then he told me the peak is 20 km up the road. I asked if it was paved all the way to the top. He said “Yes”. He added he could come back in 15 min and give me a ride up for $20. Since that price was way too high for my nomadic principles, I politely refused. I told him I’ll keep going up for another 15-20 min, and then head back, call it a day. So he drove off and I continued hiking up.
I just didn’t feel like walking up for 20 km on the paved road, but walking for a little while would definitely be pleasant. On the road, there were no viewpoints, no benches, and no signs of civilization, other than the paved road. The views of the island were very limited, covered behind the tall trees. So the only thing I could admire is the beautiful jungle on the left and right side of the road. I was wondering who is the road paved for. There’s nobody here! I decided to turn around and started walking back. There’s another car driving towards me. He stopped next to me. It was the same guy. He told me: “Get in the car, the boss wants to talk to you.” Whatta fuck!?
So I did. What boss? Did I do something wrong? There was no sign I am not allowed to go up. Just the ramp for the cars. Plenty of space for anyone to walk by it. I noticed the guy was very serious. Less friendly than the first time. Not a good sign. I have decided to break the tension by saying: “This is a very beautiful island! I love the jungles… it’s like a botanical garden here!”
He made a tiny grin before his face went back to serious. I was nervous. Once we got back to the junction, he parked the car on the grass, in front of the houses that are located next to the ramp of the National Park. Is that really a National Park? Or just another misinformation about this country. Come on, Google! What are you doing to me?
I got out of the car. A man in civil clothes approached me. Short, skinny, in his thirties. His face was very serious. He told me in a very sharp and clear voice: “Your identification, please!”
I have never heard anybody speaking Spanish so clearly and easy to understand. His voice was indeed scary. His eyes were even scarier. So sharp! He looked at me straight into my eyes like I am some sort of an evil person that hurt his family or something. But I get it… that is his way of defending his authority. In the car, I felt the tension. Now I feel fear!
So he looked into my passport, checked nationality, expiration, visa… the usual stuff. Then he looked at me and asked: “What have you been doing up there?”
“Well, I was hiking in order to reach the National Park. There was nobody at the gate, no ‘Prohibited access’ sign, so I thought it was OK for me to walk up.”
“National Park?” He looked at me surprised. And even angrier. I pulled a Google map and pointed out to him where it says: Pico Basile National Park.
He looked at my phone, then looked at me: “This is not a National Park. Public access to this road is strictly prohibited!”
Seems like I wasn’t able to win the case with my story backed up with the Google Maps evidence. Not even close. He sounded and looked at me with even more anger. Next, he started examining my backpack. I proudly showed him my water supplies, avocado, raincoat, mosquito repellent, and all the accessories that should prove to him that I am an innocent tourist that just wanted to go to the National Park. That’s what tourists do, right?
“Sit here”, he pointed to a plastic chair next to us and dialed a number on his phone. After the brief phone conversation, he told me: “Wait here for 5 minutes then we’ll go in a car”. He walked away with my passport.
Until this moment, I believed he was a dude that lives in one of their houses by the ramp and hustles the tourists in order to squeeze some money. But he never asked me for the money. Is he the police? Normally the police would ask me for money as well. Instead, he wanted to take me somewhere. I am fucked! These guys don’t wanna squeeze from me $20 or something… They probably wanna threaten me & take everything I got! Maybe kidnap me?
Before my arrival on this island, I have spent some time in a region popular for kidnapping (Nigeria, Niger, Mali), so I was well aware of and informed about how that works. It’s just I did not expect it to happen on this island. Criminals typically don’t operate on small islands. Too easy to get caught. I was definitely freaking out.
So, I sat nervously and observed the junction area. I was surrounded by 4 houses and a small bar. There were a few more houses across the street in the distance. Some kids were playing, women drying laundry, a few people sitting on the patio of the bar… A very regular, local non-hostile vibe. That’s why they wanna take me… They don’t wanna torture me in front of the women and children. Is this really happening?
Then the 1st guy, that drove me back, passed by. He gave me a smile… I was trying to read carefully every single sign in order to be smart about this situation. It was a smile of compassion…. A smile that says: “You are not a bad person, yet, you are gonna get fucked my friend, sorry!” That was my interpretation. I walked over to him and explained how this guy wants to take me somewhere and all I did was hike the National Park. I showed him the map. He looked at my phone. Then looked back at me, lifted his shoulders, and said: “I dunno”, and walked away.
The scary guy came back and said: “Follow me.” I followed him towards his car. He opened the door for me to get in. While standing by the car, I asked him: “And may I see your identification, please?” He was dressed in civil clothes and the car was civil as well, so I thought it was a very appropriate question.
He calmly reached for the card inside his car and handed it to me. It was a very cheap, simple, funny-looking card. There was his picture on it, his name, a flag, and a title on top: ‘Ministry of Defense of the Republic of Guinea Ecuatorial’.
I was debating if the card was fake, cause it looked very cheap and very simple. Or It might be real, it’s just it looks so cheap cause this is Africa. It seemed to be the legit military card that needed more info, more stuff printed on it, than this one. Well, whether the card was original or not, whether he was a military or not, I did not feel comfortable getting into this car. No fucking way!
So this is what I told him: “Look, you have my passport. So you keep it. I will go back to my guesthouse, go to the embassy tomorrow morning, ’cause I don’t understand what is going on here.” The reality is, maybe I would understand better if my Spanish was better at that time.
“Did I hit you?”, he asked, angrily. “Did I take any money from you?” After I responded “No” to both of those questions, he said: “So why do you wanna go to the embassy then? I need to bring you to my boss, get in the car!”
During this last dialog, he was even angrier and looked at me even more sharply. His voice was louder as well. I thought I did a great job looking cool and playing cool, despite the fact I was freaking out. I felt I was relatively safe right here, in the vicinity of the women and children playing and the bar. With this guy in his car on the way to his boss? That scenario did not feel safe to me at all!
“Well, I am not getting into this car. You can call the police if you want!” I sounded relaxed and confident like I got things under control. I was bluffing…cause I was fucked! I wasn’t even sure if my strategy was right. Anyway, my very angry friend became even angrier: “I am the police!”, he barked.
His ID said: ‘Ministry of Defense’, which means military. But he says he’s the police… The ID is fake… Fuck… I’m dead!
I tried to look cool. I told him calmly: “The real police, with the police car.”
“Fine! You sit here and wait. I’ll be back.”
Huh, got out of trouble, at least for a little bit. The trouble is definitely not over. So I walked to the bar. I asked the waitress if I could get a beer. She greeted me with a big smile and told me what were my choices. Any sign of friendliness felt like a slight relief. Then I said:
“You know what, I actually need to go. Can I get a taxi here?”
She said “Yes, hold on”… then a man behind me stood up and told her very loudly, so everyone in the bar could hear him:
“No, he is not going anywhere! He needs to sit and wait for…” I did not understand the rest.
Damn! That would have been too easy, escaping kidnapping just like that… So I ordered a beer and sat on one of the plastic tables. The man sat at the table next to me. He was quite big. With his sunglasses and a serious face, he looked pretty intimidating. I could probably knock down the short guy that had my passport, but then I would have to deal with this guy and at least a few others. I was considering all possible options and outcomes.
So the police SUV came over and parked at the same place the car I didn’t want to get into was. A very old police car. Looked more like an abandoned car. The same angry guy got out. What is going on now? Does he have a friend that is a policeman, who let him use his car? Is this police car real? It looked too funny to be a police car. Or maybe it was, it’s just… you know… This is Africa! If I saw a regular policeman walking out of this car, I would probably believe it’s a police car, but this dude again? Anyway, he was walking firmly towards me. I switched again into a relaxed, confident mode. He pointed at the police car and said: “Let’s go!”
I shook my head with a grin: “Donno what this car is but I am not getting into it. I want the real police to take me.”
The idea of being taken by the police really felt very safe right now. He was not happy. He started yelling at me: “My obligation is to bring you to my boss!” The angry man yelled a bunch of other stuff that I didn’t understand. I am not fluent in Spanish. In life-threatening situations, I guess I am even less fluent.
So he was angry and loud, while I was playing cool and smiley. “I am not getting into this car. Ether I go home, then embassy, or, if I did commit the crime, the real national police can take me to prison.”
His eyes wanted to explode from the anger. He said: “Wait here!” and drove off in the “police car”. Huh, I need another beer, I thought.
Generally, the vibe at the bar was quite positive. There were 2 women and an elderly man on a table behind me, drinking and enjoying themselves. One of the girls started asking me the usual ‘white man in a random African country’ questions: “Where are you from? What are you doing here?” Then she proceeded with more questions I tend to get a lot from African girls: “Do you have a wife? Do you like black girls? How long are you staying on the island? “
She was sexy, I thought. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a nice opportunity for me to have some fun. But I was about to get kidnapped… so I wasn’t really capable to respond on her flirting. She was just distracting me from thinking clearly about this situation and possible outcomes.
After the girl asked me another friendly question, I came over, seated at their table, and spoke showing my real face. The face I have been hiding from the moment I got dropped off here. The face of fear: “Look, this guy wants to take me to his boss. I dunno what they wanna do to me. He has a military ID and a police car. I don’t trust him. I am scared… scared for my life! All I did was hike the National Park. I rather go to prison than to his car!”
Three of them looked at me seriously, with compassion. The flirty girl put her arm over mine and said gently: “Don’t worry. If he wants to take you, I’ll go with you!” OK, now I got 3 people on my side. The chances of surviving are a little bit better!
10 minutes later, the same police car came back. The same guy walked out in some sort of uniform and the hut. The uniform matched the hut, but those did not match his body. The uniform was a little baggy for him, and the hut was definitely too big, twisting his ears. He looked funny in it. The uniform definitely did not look like it was his. And the design of the uniform looked funny as well… Too funny to be a police uniform. Or maybe it was a police uniform, it’s just, “This is Africa”! He pointed at his attire and said: “You happy now? Get in the car, now!”
I had the same gesture and expression as the last time: “That’s not the police uniform… the real police! Call me the real police with the real car so they can take me to the real prison!” At this point, I was really hoping to get to prison. No joke. His eyes almost exploded from anger. He started yelling… I couldn’t understand. I looked at the girl that was flirting with me, for her support. She just told me: “It’s OK, go with him…” Fuck! I am done… nobody’s gonna save me! She was on his side the whole time!
“I am not going!” At this point, I wasn’t able to look or sound cool anymore. The angry guy put his hand on my elbow while his buddy stood up and started walking over. Then the girl stood up. Not the one that was flirting with me. The other one, which was silent all the time. Now she started shouting at them. Weird! OK, so there is somebody on my side! All I managed to understand was, she told him I am scared. While they were arguing, I worked my way out of the bar terrace and walked towards 2 guys that were sitting on the porch of the house next door. I urgently spoke to them:
“Please, help me! I don’t know what they wanna do to me. I just went for a hike to the National Park…”
One of them interrupted me: “We don’t know anything. This is between you and him.”
Then the second guy said: “Talk to this man!” and pointed to somebody behind me.
I looked around and noticed a middle-aged man in a tracksuit walking towards the bar. I rushed towards him, in order to talk to him before anybody else could, and said with fear and panic in my eyes and voice: “Excuse me, sir…”
He looked at me very calmly, handed me the passport, and said: “You can go.”
I exhaled like I have been holding my breath for 2 hours. I took my passport, grabbed his arm with both arms, looked at him like he was Jesus Christ, and said: “Thank You!” Yes, I am alive!!!
Then the flirty girl came over, hugged me, and said: “It’s over, you can relax now.” I started shaking. All this time, I have been hiding my fear and panic in my pocket, in order to look cool and think sharp. So now when it’s over, the feelings came out. I was in shock! I felt less sane now, when it was over than during the drama. She has probably noticed that, so she said: “Why don’t you sit here and I’ll buy you another beer? I’ll get ready and then we could go together back to the city in the taxi.” Another beer did sound like a great idea to me.
While I was sipping it, I noticed on the table behind me was the guy that was scaring me the whole time, in his funny uniform, sitting with my savior, my Jesus Christ. The Devil and Jesus sitting on the same table, chilling? What a fuck is going on here? Who is the Devil? Who is Jesus? I felt like I had no more energy to think and get the answers to those questions. Maybe I should get outta here ASAP…
At one point, the Devil walked away from the table, so I quickly went over to ask Jesus a question… I wanted to avoid the Devil since I still felt very traumatized.
“Can I get a taxi here and go to town?” He looked at me very calmly, and friendly: “Yes, you can do whatever you want. I am the commissioner in this area!” I thanked him again and went back to my table.
What if the girl is in a deal with them? Maybe the danger is not over… Maybe I’m still in trouble! Perhaps I was so prepared for the worst, I just couldn’t believe it was over and I can go back safely. Go back with a sexy girl instead! I didn’t even buy her a drink. It can’t be… Maybe that’s why she bought me a beer… It’s a trap!
As soon as the girl came back. I told her: “Listen, I am shocked and confused. Very confused. I don’t understand what’s going on here. I would feel more comfortable going back by myself.”
She did not look surprised. She didn’t try to reassure me we should go together. She just called a taxi for me.
So I took off by myself! Again, I felt relief… at least for a few minutes. Then I started panicking again… What if the taxi driver was in the deal with them? The girl has been all over me and when I said I wanna go by myself, she instantly let me, without a single word. So I just sat in the back seat nervously, waiting to be dropped off. 10 minutes later, we were back in the city… 5 more minutes and I’ll get out of this car and then it will finally be over!
I was monitoring his route on the phone app. Wanted to make sure he was driving in the direction of my guesthouse and not in the direction of a warehouse where they take tourists and kidnap them. I intentionally didn’t tell him the name of my guesthouse. Just the supermarket, a block away.
“I’ll exit here”, I said once we reached the supermarket. I walked out and rushed inside.
Yes, I’m in! It’s all over!
I slept pretty well that night. The next morning I still wasn’t sure what exactly happened. What would happen to me if I sat in that car? What is the relationship between the Devil and Jesus? How about the relationship between the sexy girl and them? Throughout the day, things have started brightening in my head. By the early evening, I had a clear idea of what had happened. It seemed so simple:
1st of all, the National Park is a protected area that is not open for sightseeing and tourism. Apparently, Guinea Ecuatorial doesn’t care about tourism. Somewhere up the road is a military base or some sort of government facility. The devil is in charge nobody goes up. Since nobody ever does, he is not spending his days sitting in the police shack by the ramp.
He doesn’t have experience catching people going up, so he didn’t have a standard procedure for what. He wanted to take me to his boss Jesus, so I can explain to him what did I do up there. When Jesus found out I didn’t want to go to his office, he decided to cut the drama, came over here, and gave me the passport back. That is what happened! The flirty girl was just a flirty girl. The taxi was just a taxi.
Damn, I am such an idiot! How did I create all this drama in my mind? And I missed getting laid. Ugh! I started analyzing myself.
I got the final confirmation of my theory the following day when I spotted a security guy in the city in the exact same uniform the Devil had… I’m an idiot! Or maybe I am not. Maybe it’s good to be very cautious and always be prepared for the worst.
Interested in more stories from unknown African countries? I would recommend checking out my Togo post.
His life story is for the Hollywood movie
I really enjoyed my guesthouse. The accommodation itself was nothing special and wasn’t a good deal for a nomad anyway, but the reason why I enjoyed it was I made friends with three people that worked there. They welcomed me and made me feel at home. Normally, that is likely to happen in the local guesthouses of random, non-touristy countries, like this one. That’s where the locals normally don’t see many Westerners, so they tend to be more friendly to them.
They would invite me to come over, behind the front desk, and chill with them any time. We would drink coffee there, eat, watch football on TV, and talk about everything. So, during my stay, I would spend a few hours each day chilling at the front desk. I loved it! One of the employees had an interesting story. He was an immigrant from Ghana. Before he got to Guinea Ecuatorial, he was in Lybia. The fact that he was a Muslim helped him to get into the country and find a job. Yet, his journey to get there wasn’t easy at all.
He was traveling with 20 or so relatives and other Ghanan Muslims. They had to cross the large area of Western Sahara (territory of Niger and South Lybia) where Jihadists (terrorist organizations from Western Sahara) kept the law in their hands. Usually, they rob, kidnap, rape, and the usual stuff. The governments are not really worried about them, as long as they don’t come to the cities. The crimes committed in the remote, isolated parts of the country are nothing worth the attention of the governments of Mali, Niger, and Chad.
He knew it was a risky trip in the first place, but he felt he didn’t have much to lose. At one section of the journey, there was no transport available. They had to walk through the desert for 200 km! And yes, they did come across the Jihadists! It went pretty well, actually! They took most of their money and belongings. Nobody hurt, nobody injured. The immigrants didn’t have much anyway, so they felt lucky. Man, it’s so good to be humble.
Eventually, he made it all the way north to Tripoli. Success! That was the year 2010, while Gaddafi was still in power. He got the job and got settled. He was happy… at least for a while… until the protests and the civil war, also known as The Arab Spring started. So he gave me his insights into what happened.
“Everybody was happy during the Gadaffi regime. Everything was organized, peaceful… Jobs, education… but Westerners did not like him, so they started the Western propaganda, which caused the revolution… You know. They needed to take the ‘evil dictator’ down and bring the ‘democracy’. But, what they call democracy, we call civil war!” His story seemed a lot different than the story about The Arab Spring everybody else, including me, is familiar with. Interesting…
So he ended up losing his job. Saw more violence than ever before. Regretted he came here in the first place. He was exploring the opportunity to get to Europe somehow. There was a deal for hungry desperate guys like him: An illegal boat service that drops people off to Malta. That service was expensive and there was no guarantee the mission would be successful.
So he gave up on that option and went back south, till he ended up in Guinea Ecuatorial. He makes at the guesthouse $268/month + free accommodation (he sleeps on the floor behind the front desk). I never asked him how much he makes. He just told me that.
One more interesting thing he mentioned about Lybia was the racism he had experienced there. He was called the “slave” on a daily basis. Sometimes he would sit on the bus, and the local Lybians would yell at him from behind: “Hey you can not sit here. You are a slave. Go sit behind us!”
He wasn’t too offended by it. He said he forgives them, and he prays for them because he is a Muslim and that’s what the Quran thought him. I need to mention, he was one of the nicest and kindest people I have ever met.
Guinea Ecuatorial is seriously weird!
Today my plan was to go to the beach, just outside of the city. I was joined by one of my buddies that worked at the hotel. As soon as our taxi got out of the city, we saw a checkpoint on the road. Oh, shit! I don’t have my passport. I didn’t bring it intentionally. Why would I? I am going to the beach! Knowing this country for 3 days, I was already assuming this could be complicated.
And it was. The cop asked us for identification. He looked at us very sharply like we were some evil people that made his life miserable. I guessed his uniform and a gun wasn’t enough for him to feel confident, so he needed to look scary and angry on top of that. Because of my previous experience, his anger did not distract me this time around.
So after I told him I don’t have my passport on me, he got even more upset. Why all this negative energy? I am in trouble, not him. My buddy has tried to ask him to let us go. To me, it seemed obvious we won’t be able to get away. So I came up with a different plan: “We’re gonna go back to the guesthouse, I’ll grab my passport, then we’ll come back here.”
The policeman got even angrier. It seems like he is looking for an excuse to feed himself with negative energy. My buddy was a little nervous. Me, after the drama from 2 days ago, I felt perfectly relaxed and comfortable. Just another day in Guinea Ecuatorial.
Anyway, the cop did not like my plan. He demanded I stayed here at the checkpoint with him, and my friend would go back and bring my passport. Easy, I thought. I explained to my buddy where in my room was my passport. The only thing was, I did not feel like sitting at the checkpoint next to the guy that was so full of negative energy.
After 10 minutes of sitting next to him, I decided to challenge myself and try to make him more friendly. Put some sun into his soul. His anger had nothing to do with stuff like the low standard of living and other issues that Africa is famous for. It was simply just his uniform job. The authority issue. I was telling him how I liked my guesthouse and I got friendly with the stuff. They were my friends during my stay.
Then I went on about how beautiful the tropical rainforest here is and I am very excited about visiting the beach. He started to get softer. Then I spoke with a lot of passion about the African woman… how sexy they are and how I love the dancing spirit and the music of this continent… The guy continued losing his negative energy. He became almost normal, almost in his off-duty mood… I even managed to get a compliment from him. He told me he liked my mentality. Anyway, the taxi came back. So did his anger.
After browsing through my passport, he asked me for a Tourist Visit Authorization. I told him a tourist visa for me was not required.
“Correct. But you need a Tourist Visit Authorization in order to leave the city and visit the beaches, and hikes. I am gonna let you go now, but when you come back to town, make sure you get it, ’cause on every city exit, there is a checkpoint and you will be asked for that form.”
“Ok, thank you! And do you know where I get that Authorization?”
“From the Minister of Tourism.”
Seriously??? I needed a document from the Minister of Tourism or Guinea Ecuatorial in order to go to the beach. Damn… I wish I had to pay for a tourist visa instead! Anyway, now the cop had let us go to the beach, even if I didn’t have that form… Yay! I guess friendly chatting was useful after all.
The next morning I went to the government building, where the office of the Ministry of Tourism was supposed to be. The process was easy (Thank God!). I just filled out a short application, paid $30, and had to come back in 2 days. So I did. I never had a chance to meet the Minister, but I do possess his original signature on the form!
Interested in hidden exotic beaches, like this one above? Wait till you see my photo gallery from Sao Tome
So, you wanna see the waterfalls…
My mission for today was to get to San Antonio de Ureca, a tiny village in the southern part of the island. The same buddy from the guesthouse has joined me. He has never been there either. As a matter of fact, he told me he’s never been outside of the city. Not a surprise. After all, there are a lot of people from Brooklyn, NY that have never made a step outside of Brooklyn in their entire life.
First, we headed to the bus terminal. It took us a while to find out how to get there. The confusion was, we were asking how to get to San Antonio and people told us they never heard of that place. Apparently, everybody calls the village Ureca, and nobody ever uses the name San Antonio.
Since there was no direct van that goes to Ureca, we had to catch a small bus that goes to Luba and from there a taxi to Ureca. Damn… it’s gonna be pricey. Luba to Ureca is almost 1-hour drive. I really wanted to go there. Ureca seemed very isolated, which means more authentic. There was supposed to be a beautiful waterfall as well. I was also looking forward to traveling the island from the north all the way to the south.
So we found the bus that goes to Luba. We paid for the lady that was sitting next to our bus. I was assuming we will have to wait till it gets filled – the African standard. The lady gave my buddy 2 tickets. He looked at them confused and asked her: “What is this?”
“The tickets for the ride”, she responded. He was looking at them confused. Whatta fuck? How can he not know what the bus tickets are? While I was standing there shocked, he asked her what to do with it. She explained to him to hold on to them and we will give them to the driver once we depart. He stood there and kept looking at the tickets for another moment before he turned to me and explained what these are and what to do with them. Seriously?!
When I travel to random countries, like Guinea Ecuatorial, I tend to meet and hang out with the locals. Usually, I connect with them by having simple conversations about their country, my country, football, music, and girls. In the beginning, socializing would feel like we are on the same level, without any significant cultural barriers. Then, sooner or later there will be a moment when different lifestyles or cultural backgrounds step in.
That is what just happened with my buddy. We have been socializing for 6 days now, like he is an old friend of mine, from my country… until now, when he was staring at those bus tickets, I got suddenly reminded he grew up a lot differently than I did. Regardless, he was a friendly dude and a fun company and that’s what really mattered.
Once we got to Luba, we were asking random people on the streets how to get to Ureca. We learned since the village is so small, there is no ordinary taxi or transport that goes there. We would need to hitchhike or ask random people to give us a ride and negotiate a price. Hitch-hiking was out of the question because we wanted to get back to the city tonight, so we didn’t have enough time for that adventure. We could possibly get lucky catching quickly a ride there, but to get back to Luba? No way. Some woman directed us to a house where we could inquire.
Inside that house, we were told to sit and wait. They were selling palm wine – a delicious alcoholic beverage very famous in West Africa. Great! That would make the waiting time more pleasant. But, we were still running out of time…
5 minutes later, I told my buddy I wanna find out the price. If the price is too high, we shouldn’t waste our time and wait for no reason. He responded… “Ok, ok, just wait.” I found his attitude disturbing.
“Dude, we have limited time. Now it is close to 2 o’clock. The last bus back to the city leaves from here at 4. From here to Ureca is a 45-minute ride. We need to find out the price now, ’cause we have no time to wait!”
Usually, when I go around with the locals, I let them deal with getting things done. It is part of hospitality, and it’s practical as well, because of the language-dialect barriers. It is also a good way to prevent being overcharged for things. So I was urging him to find out the price. He asked something the lady. Once she responded, he turned to me and said: “Just wait.”
This is ridiculous. So I stood up and impatiently explained to the lady why I don’t wanna wait. Then she told me as well to wait. I turned to my buddy and said: “Let’s get outta here!”
Then the woman told me: “Wait, I’ll get him.”
One minute later, some guy came out of one of the rooms in the house. Maybe he was taking a nap. He did look like he had just woken up.
“5 minutes”, he told me. Then, he went to put some oil in the engine and tighten some screws under the engine hub.
I asked him: “How much is the ride?” No response. I asked again: “How much?” He kept ignoring me, with his head down fixing screws.
I knew that trick from before when they don’t wanna give you the price in advance. So once you get the service they have the opportunity to give you any price they want and claim that is the normal price. Well, not this time. So I raised my voice at a frequency that can not be ignored: “Sir, I am not going to sit in this car till you tell me how much!”
He finally looked at me and said: “$50.”
“Let’s get outta here”, I told my buddy.
I was pretty upset. 1st for waiting, 2nd for my useless friend that was supposed to make the communications easier, but he was making things only more complicated, and 3rd, the driver that gave me the price of $50. What if we got into his car without asking the price? He would demand $100 I bet.
So we continued looking for ride opportunities elsewhere. From now, I was the one leading the communication with the locals. My buddy was just following quietly. I felt I became experienced enough at traveling it’s easier for me to take care of things on my own than to rely on local friends.
Eventually, we found a guy in the bar that could do it for $30… “Deal!”All we had to do is wait until he finishes his beer. In Africa, it is perfectly acceptable to make other people wait. As a result of that, everybody is OK with waiting… and nobody’s ever rushing anybody. Well, not me!
“Sir, we need to be back here by 4, so if we leave now, we’ll be in the village for 30 minutes only.. and if we wait (I hate that word), the trip won’t be worth $30. So if we don’t leave now, I am canceling the deal and we’ll go back to town.” So he chugged his beer and we immediately took off. Yes!
The 5-house village was very cute. The ride was epic and the waterfalls were awesome! On the way back I thought about how it’s easy to see the waterfalls, or similar nature wanders when traveling Peru, South Africa, or Thailand… There is transport organized. No need to hustle. No need to see the Minister of Tourism. In countries like Guinea Ecuatorial, seeing the sites is much more expensive, and stressful, because there are no tourists. It’s one of the least visited countries in the world!
If you liked this story from Guinea Ecuatorial, I would recommend checking out my South Africa post.
To learn more about this unknown country, I have attached this fun educational Youtube video