Pendembo to Keneema and beyond.

The call was in from the workshop, they cannot fix the bike. It appears that all this poking of connections and crossing of wires has blown the CDI and even after trying to repair the damage the bike will not run. Im pretty devastated but I have to move on to the next stage. Im now going to have to transport the bike and ship it back to the UK before I can do anything else.

So, we had to ride back to Keneema for the night. 

I wouldn’t let Rev John Ride as I had followed him and he’s not the best rider, I’m not sitting behind a poor rider for two hours, so I took the controls of the mighty Catholic Church TVS125, after tuning the carb a little and off we went. Rev John was a little nervous and soon asked me to stop, he needed to pray!! There’s confidence for you!

The journey was a couple of hours in glorious weather and when I had learned the importance of the yellow horn button the Rev calmed down and relaxed, I even did a selfie video on the road and he joined in!

When we arrived in Keneema the bike was sparkling clean and displayed proudly outside the workshop and we arranged with a driver to transport the bike back to Freetown in the morning in a fish truck. That was convenient so we agreed to meet at 8.00am. The driver then said we could go tonight and wanted me to pay more, pretty pointless as we would have arrived at around 2.00am and the place we want to go doesn’t open till 10.00am. That option declined we went back to Rev Johns place for the night. 

The journey back to Rev Johns house is pretty much off road and as we started it was getting dark, soon the heavens opened in a full blown downpour and believe me I mean that. I tried the lights as now it was pitch black and we were in a tropical storm, I could tell it was a holy bike as the headlight pointed up to heaven and I couldn’t push it back down. So I was riding off road, in the dark, two up, wearing crocs and shirt, with terrible lights in a tropical storm, what could possibly go wrong?

We arrived at the Revs house absolutely soaked to the skin but I managed to keep us on two wheels so that was a blessing according to The Rev!

We talked long into the night again and even had a beer. As I went to sleep I reflected upon another crazy day in West Africa.

Keneema to Freetown 

In the morning we got ourselves ready for the onward journey and Cissy arrived to collect the bike panniers. He used to be a motorcycle taxi man so he was well used to carrying awkward loads on his bike.

I rode the Catholic priests bike back to the workshop and waited and waited, Africa time again! Eventually we had to leave to get the bus, Cissy, the mechanic agreed to load the bike and all the gear so we left for the bus station.

The station was an interesting place, what I’ve come to expect really from a gathering of strangers all heading in different directions. The sellers are there selling everything from phone chargers to doughnuts and everything in between. In these situations I get totally mobbed, I kinda stand out and I’m a magnet for beggars. I don’t mind giving but it’s my decision and not theirs.

The bus leaves when it’s full and not before that of course includes the roof rack so we wait and wait. 

Eventually the bus is full but not before witnessing a couple of fights over passengers and various other daily problems that a bus station deals with, emotions run high in these places.

The bus starts to pull away and I spot a young disabled man, I reach out of the window and pass him some small notes, he’s surprised but makes a real effort to say thanks you, that’s how I give, as I leave otherwise word gets out and the white man or Pumwi, is inundated with requests.

We are now heading towards Freetown and I’m hopeful that the next few days will work out well, this isn’t going to be easy and a lot of stuff has to come together to make it work. I’m fortunate as the Rev has a large African family and we have made some good contacts, I’m hopeful but really not sure how it’s going to all pan out, he’s pretty confident as he has God on his side.

This is a post bus and we make several stops to pick up sealed bags of correspondence, the driver is a nice chap with a booming voice who talks a lot or rather shouts a lot but he’s jolly and we get on well, I’m sat at the front of the bus, the privileged seat. It’s great for the view but the sun is right on me all day and I’m roasted to death, nothing changes then, it’s been like that for weeks.

During the journey, John tells the driver my story about the bike and how it’s now being transported to Freetown, the driver explains that we could have put the bike on the roof rack! That would have been fun, shame to have missed that opportunity but the fish wagon will do fine.

The journey must have taken around seven hours in the burning sun, a lot of the journey I remember in reverse as I came through here some days back, in a way it was kind of ok, I don’t really like going backwards but in this instance it’s unavoidable, eventually we arrive at Freetown and I watch as the tide recedes from the mangroves in the bay as we come to the end of our trip.

It was the end of this part of the trip actually as we still had two other journeys to get to end destination at Rev Johns sisters house outside of town.

We collect our stuff and try to get transport, in the end it’s two separate journeys on Moto taxis,three up with a bit of luggage too for just under and hour as darkness fell. The Rev was having a go at one of the riders and I heard him say that ‘this mans life is too valuable to take risk’ I will have to discuss that with him later.

The last part of the journey is inevitably on unmade roads and we pull up outside a secure compound.

Mr Mamus Compound

I never know what to expect, it’s always nothing like I imagine so I now don’t even try to imagine and just take it as it comes.

We enter the compound and I’m greeted by Bridget and Mr Joseph Mamu. Their house is large and well appointed and we have a room, I’m sharing with the Rev.

We are promptly fed, there was a call earlier in the day asking what I wanted to eat, I had said that I wanted African food, nothing different from what they would normally eat.

When visiting people in the UK you would all normally eat together, well that’s how it is for my family at least but not here. Food is prepared in advance and stored in insulated containers ready for when visitors arrive. 

We eat a lovely white Ochre soup with local fish, it’s spicy and I love it, of course it’s served with the inevitable rice.

Sat in the comfortable lounge area I see TV for the first time in nearly two months, it’s not great and to be honest it’s more of an inconvenience, I don’t miss it at all.

We go to bed, for the first time in my life I’m sharing a bed with a black man.

When we wake in the morning the house is populated by different people, I didn’t realise that there’s a house behind too, Mr Mamu is a wealthy man and he houses his extended family in the property behind. They look after the chores in the house whilst he, a National revenue authority manager is out at work. His wife, Bridget is a teacher at the local school. 

The children a girl of 9 and a boy of 18 are both at school early in the day.

The house keepers are a lovely group of youngish girls, Mr Mamu is paying for their education and housing and in return they look after the daily demands of a big house. Mr Mamu won’t allow them to stay here if they don’t work hard at school! One wants to study law and to be honest they are a clever bunch of youngsters.

The shipping company.

I’m here for serious business and that’s what we are going to be working on today. The bike was delivered last night to a fish dealer at the dockside and we arrive by appointment to discuss the next stage, problem is the driver is still in bed when we arrive, in another part of town. John is furious as he called us earlier to come and pick up the bike! We can’t do that now so we move on to our appointment with the shipping people. 

We arrive to a pretty rough looking place on the outside but when we tackle the grubby stairwell to the tied floor we enter into a pristine and air conditioned shiny glass partitioned office. The staff are friendly and helpful and get straight on with the job, they copy and re copy my bike documents and take all the necessary details. They even supply ice cold water to drink!

Next I have to go to another office to meet another lovely lady called Doris, she’s middle aged and has a friendly and honest face, she brings an element of professionalism I haven’t seen here in Africa so far.

Further details are taken and she sets out the options for my bike, I don’t need the bike to arrive before me so we settle on crating the bike and sending it in a container with other stuff, like palm oil or whatever else is heading out to the UK, it’s going to be around a couple of months and I’m happy with all that.

Moving the bike.

The next stage is getting hold of the bike, we venture into the heat of the day and find a transport company who have a van, a price is agreed and we embark on the difficult journey through traffic to pick the bike up. I’m in a beat up knackered white (ish) Transir van, every time the driver accelerates the front seats rock less than gently back and forth, I wonder if they will break free? The traffic is terrible so the driver takes to the backstreets and makes reasonable progress to the fish dock

We find the bike and pay the driver. I immediately notice that my Ortlieb bag with all my camping gear is missing, Rev John calls the workshop in Keneema and the mechanic told him I said he could keep it, despite two phone calls to him to make sure the red bag was sent with the bike! The Rev is furious and insists that the mechanic sends the bag to Freetown tonight, it’s never dull here I can tell you!

The bike is layed on its side in the back of the van, they don’t want to stand it up as the road system is terrible, I don’t care so on it’s side it is.

Back through the traffic to another place which is the shipping companies secure storage, the entrance is a door way accessed over a large pile of sand and gravel, I let them get on with it!

So the bike is safe in the store and my last bag is on its way to Freetown. It’s all coming together at last.

We left the bike in the secure store and headed back to Mr Mamu’s house, the transport here is either by busses, or whatever else comes my way.

Back at the junction we find a car and get back into town, the gentlemen travelling in the same car are having a heated discussion about politics and their corrupt system, they talk about the NRA and how they are pushing the poor people to pay tax, I think carefully and although they are speaking in Creole I can understand most of the subject matter. Mr Mamu is a tax inspector, an economist, they are talking about people like him. I suppose that if you have very little then you look at the likes of Mr Mamu and I can fully understand why they would think that way.

Waiting to find suitable transport I wonder what is going to be our next mode of travel. Rev John negotiates our presence in a car, it’s pretty loaded already and there are two places left on the front passenger seat. It will be cramped but it will be faster than a bus, I think it’s fine but just as I’m about to get in a Landcruiser pulls up and John waves me over, I’m given the front seat as usual and I didn’t argue! It’s a full leather comfortable seat and the cruiser has aircon, what a result. The driver is going our way and the price is good so we have a ride.

The driver is the manager of a mechanics workshop dealing with high end cars and he’s off to pick up a friend from Keneema, Bo is on the way. He’s a good driver and makes good progress, we stop to buy vegetables in the villages and at one point he stops to negotiate the purchase of recently killed bush meat, I think it’s a coipu, like a huge rat. The price is too high and we move on. Rev John sleeps most of the way, I think I wore him out.

We travel into the night and all too soon, bear in mind we’re in a air con luxury car, we arrive at Bo I and say our goodbyes. 

He will be driving all night as he has to get to Keneema and then back to Freetown, that’s a round trip of near on 12 hours.

Bo and Hassan

We are met from the car by Hassan, he’s one of Rev Johns old friends and he has offered us accommodation for the night. We are in a typical urban African house, when we arrive there’s no electricity and we navigate the house by torchlight. Soon after the electricity comes on, ‘again you are blessed Mr Max’ exclaims John.

We eat a lovely fish and rice meal, all eating from the same plate. John wants a beer so we venture out and sit outside watching the traffic and talking politics.

The beer goes down well and the conversation is vibrant, Hassan is a lovely chap and laugh out load on many occasions, when the beer has run dry we walk back to the house, it’s time for sleep.

I wouldn’t let the Rev ride, way too risky so I took the controls!

‘It’s best if we lie the bike down’ the road conditions mean less damage will be caused with the bike on the floor.