However, whilst sitting and waiting at Garoua Boulai, we were visited by another overland truck that had just come from C.A.R. into Cameroon. They reported no problems, but just to make sure, two members of our group entered the C.A.R. 'semi-legally' to visit the French Army based at Bouar. They wanted to get the latest run-down on the situation in the country and also radio a message to Bangui to help with getting us in. We thought that we were victims of a remote border post with old information. These two members of our group enjoyed clean beds, hot showers and French wine & cheese for a night or two, then returned to us with the news that we should try to enter at another border post.

We drove further south, still in Cameroon, and entered easily at another border post. This is despite having the word 'refouce' (French for refused or rejected) written on our C.A.R. visas. It took a carton of cigarettes and a few bottles of beer to smooth the way. A letter from the C.A.R. embassy in Cameroon also helped.

We went straight to Dzanga Sancha Park for a few days then headed north towards Bangui. It was a Saturday when we reached PK12 - a major police checkpoint on the outskirts of town. Despite having some of our group guarding the truck, some things were stolen off our vehicle, but after a quick snack of omelette and Nescafe, we entered Bangui proper.

The first thing I noticed about the place was the bullet holes in most of the buildings - and the lack of people. It was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. As we proceeded down the main street a fully armed French soldier came running over shouting at us to take cover and divert. We took the long way to our destination - the Peace Corps house.

This house belongs to two Canadian expats who have stayed on in Bangui whilst a lot of others have fled. There was room for our truck and tents and what we hoped would be a stay of a few nights, turned out to be 2 weeks. We had intended to proceed onto Zaire, but reports from there were very bad indeed. In fact, on the date we were due to exit Zaire into Uganda, there was fierce fighting and massacres in the town we should have crossed from. After enough information was gathered, and the decision was made not to enter Zaire, some of the group decided to fly onto Nairobi. The rest of us agreed to turn back into Cameroon and head to Douala where we would fly to Nairobi.

It took a few days to get new visas for Cameroon and get money transferred to the bank in Bangui. It was closed for a few days, and even then it took hours to sort out our funds. We had by then become accustomed to constant gunfire at night. The night sky was lit by tracers overhead and the occasional explosion. Strange as it may sound, we became used to it. I don't recall ever being scared, just anxious to get on the road again.

There was a 'front line' of sorts, and initially we were on the French-held side. However, further into our stay the front line moved until our house was inside the 'rebel' territory. This became apparent one evening, when I was wandering around in the compound and decided to go up to the front gate and peek out the door. As I reached the gate I noticed some movement on the high wall that surrounded the compound. I looked up to see a rebel soldier watching me with his machine gun primed and pointed into our compound. I calmly turned around and walked back into the house, where the rest of the group were watching videos or having showers. After quietly proclaiming that there was a man with a gun on the wall, everyone went into a panic and dropped to the floor.

The house staff went out and found out that the soldier had heard that we were foreigners and he wanted to see that we weren't French soldiers. After realising that we were just tourists he packed up his machine gun and went on his way. Later that evening some French soldiers were attacked and killed by rebel soldiers.

The day finally came when we packed up and were ready to leave. We had loaded up our truck, had our last showers and went to open the big gates to the compound. Just as some members of the group went out onto the street to check for oncoming traffic, shots were fired right up our street. We closed the gates again and waited another hour. After deciding that we HAD to leave, we all loaded up into the truck and slowly edged our way out the gates. We got through town without incident, but took a wrong turn and found ourselves face to face with another rebel roadblock. This time there were soldiers laying on the ground with their machine guns pointed at our vehicle. We did a quick 20 point turn with the truck and finally got out of Bangui.

It took us a few days to get out of the C.A.R. and we had incidents all the way. After having rocks thrown at us by kids in Bouar, we had to endure 2 thorough police searches within a few hours. Then when we got to the border, it had just closed for the day. We camped the night then finally got back into Cameroon, at Garoua Boulai - where we had started our attempts to get into the country in the first place.

THE ROADBLOCK JUST UP THE ROAD.

Bangui was certainly a high point of my trip. Some people think I am crazy, claiming to have enjoyed a potentially dangerous experience. It was also at the time of year when the notorious leader of the C.A.R. - Bokassa - was due to be buried. He had died a few months earlier and a huge public funeral was planned for early December. Although we left just before this happened, we did manage to buy some Bokassa commemorative t-shirts.

We also had the chance to try out a few of the local restaurants. My favorite one had an interesting menu - all sorts of jungle animals, including Python. However, you had to order ahead by a few days if you wanted the Python - no doubt they had to send someone into the jungle to catch one. I had a hamburger that day. We ate well though, spending most mornings at our favorite patisserie. We had such un-African treats as ice cream, yogurt and coffee. Whatever the arguments for and against French influence in Africa, the gastronomic influence is definitely a plus in my mind!

THANKSGIVING 1996

We managed to get three chickens to go around over 20 people. We had vegies as well, finished off with some great home made ice-cream.

FRENCH SOLDIERS

Looking at pictures like this, you would think twice as to whether we were safe or not. The 'soldiers' picture was taken by my friend Mark, who was a part of the group.