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We had coffee and bread early, then packed and took
off for Douala, where we intended filing a flight plan before heading straight to Libreville, Gabon. But it wasn't to be! Within a few moments of landing we were informed that the Captain of the Gendarmerie
(national police) wanted to see us. The Captain went a bit berserk telling us (actually Olivier in French) that we had made a very big mistake and that it needed a full investigation. We followed him to his office
through long grass, down a waterlogged path, past old jet engines and broken down cars. We were sent into his dark and dingy office, which had a bed against one wall and piles of dusty files thrown onto shelves on
another wall. There were brown marks all over the walls from years of grime and dirt. Our protests that the Colonel of the army had said that everything was OK the night before fell on deaf ears. Neither Olivier nor
I could work out what the military installation at the oil reservoirs had to do with this idiot. We sat in his office for an hour while he interrogated us and then with our passports clutched firmly in his hand,
sent us next door to an even dirtied and grubbier office with broken chairs and soldiers sitting around picking their noses. I was amazed at how far they could stick their fingers up their noses.
After three hours I walked back to the trikes to
check on them. Olivier again had to handle the situation alone as without being able to speak French I was more of a hindrance than help. After an hour Olivier arrived to say that the chief had to make a decision
about whether we could be released or not and he was in a conference. Olivier suggested that 'in a conference' probably meant that they couldn't find him because he was somewhere bonking a schoolgirl.
Eventually at 3 pm we were informed that we could go.
The Cameroon Civil Aviation representative at the airport told the ATC and briefing officers that everything was OK, but one cashier was not happy, so Olivier persuaded the Captain of Gendarmerie to also tell them
everything was fixed.
We were told that we could sleep near the trikes in
the parking area at the airport.
After the sun set, it started to rain. I took
advantage of the situation and quickly grabbed some soap and a towel, stripped off and had a shower in the open where water was cascading off the roof of a building.
During the course of the day we had met some white
French soldiers and three of them arrived with beer, to chat to us and to offer us a shower at their house in the town. They were all involved with one Puma helicopter sent to Cameroon on a training exercise, but in
reality are probably there to keep an eye on the African crazies and to look after the French nationals' protection and evacuation in the event of a sudden bout of unrest or war.
I slept well even though a few big jets landed and
took off in the night right near us. At one stage in the night I lay awake for a few moments after a jet took off and thought about the occasion in Ouagadougou when Olivier and I had lain flat on the side of the
runway while an Airbus A310 took off just over the top of us. It had been an exhilarating but noisy and windy experience.
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