Freetown To Conakry: OK, Little Bribes Are Kinda Fun, But Big Ones Are Not >:-<

There's something to be said for uneventful trips. One of these days, my trip in a sept-place will be uneventful. But that wasn't going to happen today.

My day started easy enough. I skipped the hills last night so that I could be fresh when I woke up at 4am to get to the gare (3 blocks away) at 5am to get the direct car to Conakry. If you don't get the first car, they only take you to Pamlap, the border city. When I tried to leave the hotel, it was locked with a padlock from the inside. Well, the guy with the key must be there somewhere. There was an ajar door with a radio going and I knocked, knocked louder, and knocked again. The guy woke up and let me out.

I got to the Conakry cars and paid Le50000 (US$17) for the ticket and an additional Le20000 for the bags ($6). We left at about 6am. It was a bit dark, but starting to lighten up. I got the far left seat in the middle bench and the other three guys were like frickin' football players. So I was squeezed in pretty tight. Conakry to Freetown was just under 12 hours and I had paid double for the whole front seat. This was going to be a bitch.

We stopped around 9 to pick up some bags. I had thought these were bags of leaves, but now I saw that the leaves are just a sort of cap. The bags actually contain charcoal for all the charcoal stoves you see everywhere. Cool. The driver turned the key--a click and then nothing. He popped the hood and it looked like he tightened the contacts on the battery posts. Then the engine started. Whew! As we pulled out a little girl from a group of children looking at the white guy in the bush taxi said something. I smiled and nodded and the people in the car laughed. A little after that we stopped for gas.

Stopping for gas usually involves a gas station like we all know. But this gas station was an old style station. There was a pipe coming out of the ground. There is a valve like on an outdoor faucet, then a pump with a sort of pendulum like lever, then a valve with a lever, then two gallon sized glass cylinders. The lever on the valve either lets one cylinder fill and the other drain or vicce versa. The guy operated the pump back and forth and it took about 10 seconds to fill one cylinder. Then he moved the lever on the valve and started pumping again. And one cylinder drained into the gas tank, the other cylinder filled up. He switched back and forth till he had pumped 5 gallons. Then he turned off the main valve. A kid handled the snaky hose around his head in the air to get all the gas out of it.

Then we were on our way again. Now the road was bad. Same drill as on the way down--kids with ropes across the road wanted money. But this driver was having none of it. He didn't pay ony of these guys--even one providing useful road repair services. One guy yelled at him as we went by, "why are you so greedy?"

We soon got to the Menge police checkpoint. Whew! They didn't come to get my money. I had 5 Le2000 bills and nothing else. We began to draw close to the border. On the Sierra Leone side there is a double border protection system. Civil customs, civil immigration, military customs, and military immigration. That's a lot of palms to grease. I got the the civil immigration first. They brought me in and had me sit down while I filled out a form identical to the one I'd filled out on the way in. The asked how I liked Sierra Leone. I told I really enjoyed Freetown but not so much Aberdeen. He gave me a stamp, entered the information into his ledger, and I was ready to go. No payments required.

Then we all headed about 100 meters down the road to civil customs. They took my passport and let me up to the same place as last time. I guy entered information into his ledger and held my passport. "We are friends" he said and asked if there was anything I could do for his friend. I slipped him a Le2000 note. Then I knew what was coming next--the Male Search Room. Again the same spiel. "We are here to make sure you don't have anything illegal like drugs, knives, etc." I told him I had a Swiss Army knife but nothing more lethal than that. He said he was already confused by something I said and wondered if I could "clear up the confusion somehow?" Le2000 seemed to clear it up. He gave me my passport and I turned to the curtained door. A second guy of the three in the room barred my way with his arm and smiled. I smiled back and slipped him Le2000. I avoid eye contact with the sitting third guy.

OK, three bills down, one to go. And I knew this was going to be an iffy one but this was ripped and ripped bills are often rejected by merchants in West Africa (which is why I, as an ignorant tourist, wind up with them, I suppose) I walked to the military immigration. The guy looked at my passport and I gave him the bill. He gave me my passport. I turned around and headed toward the final station. He called me back. "This bill is no good. It's ripped." "It my last Leones--I don't have any more." "You gave this to me because I am an officer, and you know I can't refuse it!" he accused. "You are costing me money!" he added. How I'm costing him money because the bribe is with a ripped bill, I don't know. Finally, I headed to military customs. They looked at my bag and aked what I could do for them. I said I was out of Leones, but would GF5000 work? Why, yes, it will do just fine.

Whew! Out of Sierra Leone. But I hope to come back. I want to see more of Sierra Leone. Now to run the gauntlet of Guinea customs and immigration.

Immigration went OK. I went to the same office, filled out the same form, and watched the guy enter my information into his ledger. He stamped my passport, collected GF5000, and set me free. We got in the car and left.

Soon we came to the Faramoya customs checkpoint--about 1pm. This is where things started to go horribly awry.

They herded up all into there shack started shouting. They shouted at me to produce all my gold and foreign currency. I got my foreign currency. They teamed up on my and made me count out each type of money. I counted US$64, €300 or so, and about 200000 CFA. As I counted each bundle, they made me put them into my shirt pocket. I was trembling. What were they doing? I figured they were seeing I was carrying over some limit. They asked what was in my bag. I told them a computer. They had me open it. Then they had me sit down. They arbitrarily charged the Sierra Leonians who were in my car to get their luggage and passports. Amounts of GF5000 and GF10000 (US$1-2). Then the moved in on me. I was flustered. They told me to take out my money. Then they told me I'd have to give them the €50 and €20 notes. No way. I told them no. "How much do you want to give?" they asked. I told them I wanted to pay in Guinea Francs. OK, GF200000 (US$40). I didn't have that. No, I told them. OK, I'll give you €5. No, they said, that will not work. They were hovering and frothing like vultures. I told them I can't give more. They told me €5 won't work. OK, €10. I handed the officer a €10 note. No, I want that one too, he said pointing at a €20 note. No, I said. He said €10 is not enough. OK, I'll trade the €10 for a €20. I took back the €10 from his hand and gave him the €20. I was red and hot and mad. Then he grabbed the €10 out of my hand and said, "this is for that officer" pointing to one of the 5 men surrounding me. "No more!" I said. They parted a way to the door. I went out and there was a guy with my passport. He wanted something, too. I was pissed off at having just lost €30 (US$50) and told him I wasn't going to pay any more. The Sierra Leoneans who had been witnessing this whole scene calmly said to just give him GF2000 (US$0.40). I did and got my passport back.

We all went back to the car. As soon as we left, an animated conversation started. "How much did you give them?" "€30, and I didn't give it to them--they took it!" One guy was back there repeating "rich man" over and over--probably not on my side, but the rest of them were pissed off for getting reamed, albeit on a smaller scale, by the Guinea police. There was much discussion in English and their Sierra Leone language. Finally they told me that I should contact my embassy and they could get me reimbursed. They wrote down the name of the city where it happened so I could accurately report it. Sierra Leoneans seem to have problems with the Guinea police too. They told me I should give my money to the driver at the next transis or just lie and say I don't have any. They said they have no right to take anything at all.

I started to calm down. In the grand scheme of things, €30 is not that much. Then I started thinking about the scene. For the most part, they didn't touch my money. In hind sight, they knew they couldn't just take anything. They had to intimidate and coerce me into "voluntarily" giving them the money--or at least agreeing if they took it. They won't just steal it outright. The trick is that they can wait all day. If I decided to wait them out, they'll outlast me. But I resolved to use the knowledge that I am expected to appear to acquiesce in their illegal shakedown. I will not do it anymore for large amounts of money.

The car was going along OK road, and a dragging started. The tail pipe had come loose. They pulled out a piece of wire and went under the car to tie it up. Off again.

We actually seemed to be making pretty good time. We drew close to Km 36--another police checkpoint. I was advised to give my money to the driver. But I told them that I've been in Africa for close to three months and gone through many checkpoints, and that was the only time anything like that happened. I said it was an exception. We got to the checkpoint. As I said before, the driver is very stingy, and these police were not happy at all with his stinginess. They told me he would not be allowed to move the car. The driver got out and heated words were exchanged. An officer leaned on the hood and said he would not permit the car to move. The driver wasn't going to budge from his refusal to give more money, though. Finally, the police not only let us through, but since the engine wasn't starting, they gave us a push to pop the clutch. It sort of worked. The next half hour was spent alternately pushing and sputtering in chaotic rush hour traffic.

Finally, the car just quit at about 4pm. We all got out. We were close enough to Conakry that it was easy to get a cab. But not easy to get a reasonably priced cab. The Sierra Leoneans negotiated with a driver, but he didn't want to quote us a price--he wanted us to quote him a price. I told one of the Sierra Leoneans that I didn't want to pay deplacement prices. We were playing this sort of auction/Dutch auction game when one of the Sierra Leoneans flagged a cab that would take us based on zones like they're supposed to. So I went from a guy charging GF15000 (US$4) to a guy charging GF6500 (US$1.30). It was quite a long drive. Fortunately, I knew where I was going--back to the Hotel Niger. So we headed to Anville (sp? It's "la Ville" in Lonely Planet, but they say it like "anvil" with the stress on the second syllable.). I paid GF6500 and got out at the hotel. I got my old room from before I left and felt relieved. Then I got 3 tranches of money out from the ATM and now I'm happy. I can breathe a sigh of relief. Whew! Tonight, I'm going to treat myself to Chinese food.

September 7, 2008 18:03 Guinea local time