Bossou – Guinea

Sat on a wooden bench under the shade of a dusty rural immigration control building I watched on as a chicken nonchalantly ambled inside to mingle with the Liberian immigration officers as they casually processed us out of the country. We were about to head into Guinea, a country I was very excited to return to, but one that was proving reluctant to accommodate us. I had applied for the online e-visa before departing for Africa the previous month and received an email requesting I go for interview, although they failed to say where the interview would be and besides, I was on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean for the date requested. On arrival in Sierra Leone and meeting with the rest of the group it had turned out that almost no one had been granted a visa or any kind of response. Further investigation determined that the computer system had gone down in Guinea and there was no way of knowing if our applications had been lost or not, and so we should re-apply and suck up another £70 visa fee. Sure enough, everyone had a visa at the second time of asking. The day before arriving in Guinea, the country’s main fuel depot in the capital of Conakry had the indecency to explode, making worldwide headline news (briefly, because who really cares about Africa), and leading to the closure of all fuel stations. We had to go through Guinea to get to the Ivory Coast, but the company boss took the decision that we should spend only one night in the country as opposed to the three scheduled as it would be problematic if we ran out of fuel for the truck. After paying for two visas and now missing out on the famous vine bridges of the region, never mind the sheer beauty of the place, we were running out of reasons to be buoyant, in fact only one remained.

Our one night was to be spent in Bossou, well known for its population of wild chimpanzees despite the town happily devouring its way through the remaining rainforest. On the ground it’s hard to believe there is anything other than thick canopies of trees for miles around but take a look on Google Maps and you will see that barely anything remains, including the chimps. Apparently only seven endure, down from 20 at the turn of the millennium. Luckily, I knew none of this when arriving at the dilapidated rangers station around mid-afternoon and excited for a hike into the forest in search of chimps early next morning. The rangers had other ideas and said it would be best if we went for the hike immediately. This wouldn’t have usually been a problem for me other than I was on cook group duty and going on the hike would mean for a late dinner. No bother, my cook group partners said they weren’t going on the hike and would get on with the cooking which made me feel guilty for five minutes until the desire for a jolly good hike trumped all else. In no time at all we were submerged into the darkening depths of the surrounding forest, led by our French-speaking guides with none of us able to speak a word of French. After the first 40 minutes it all began to feel a bit in vain. It was a great hike through epic terrain but getting the chance to see chimps seemed unlikely with the guides appearing to be in no great rush, but this of course is a common mistake to make in Africa. Quite suddenly more rangers appeared, and a commotion ensued between them; communication ranged from whispers through to mobile phones and good old shouting. Then, everyone bumped into each other along the trail as one after another looked up into the trees to see a couple of chimps quite happily minding their own business. It wasn’t bad, they were a reasonable way up, and I was at the back of the group, clinging to a tree and trying not to fall down a bank. We continued on, stopped for a moment as the rangers decided on a course of action, and then stood in amazement as the two chimps swung down through the trees, did some Tarzan vine moves, dropped to the ground, and walked off. Never has such a spectacle caused such turmoil.

Time was moving on, light was fading and none of us were equipped to be out in the dark. A small fraction of the group was terrified we’d get lost which I felt was simply insulting to the rangers. The same small fraction backed up their concerns stating that we were not going to see anything better than what we had just witnessed. Maybe so, but I had paid for two visas to spend less than 24 hours in the country and, overcome with the utter frustration that had accumulated with people in the group trying to take the adventure out of an adventurous journey over the past few weeks I was determined to continue on if possible. Sure enough, it was. The rangers were more than happy to split the group with half returning to camp and the other half staying out. I had finally stuck to my guns and as a reward I soon found myself climbing a massive hill with six friends following behind, I terrified that I had led them on a wild chimp chase for nothing. It was quite the chase, made more amusing by the fact our guides carved their way through the forest with not the conventional machete but a humble set of garden secateurs. Dragging ourselves through dense, prickly bush, and up the seemingly endless hill with roots intent on tripping up anyone unaware, the light was fading fast yet the sweat poured from us. Finally, the terrain started to level out, the heartrate reduced, and a chimp stared down at us from a tree. We followed the chimp a little further and then spent a remarkable 20 minutes in complete silence watching three of them prepare their nests for the night. It was a beautiful moment for many reasons including the fact that we did see better than what had been seen earlier, and because the group had split, it had left only seven of us which allowed us all to drift off into our own little space and enjoy unfettered access to the moment. No one was talking, no one was fighting for position for photos, it was a moment to purely absorb, to enjoy, and to make one’s own. I went as far as saying it was almost as good as the hour I got to spend with the mountain gorillas in Rwanda all those years ago. That was more intimate but seeing the chimps here in such a relaxing atmosphere was completely unexpected and, combined with the effort exerted to get to them, it provided a very rewarding experience. 

The trek back down the hill was more treacherous than up with one of the guys taking a long injury free tumble. It was almost dark inside the forest which made everything slightly more challenging yet when we stepped out from the trees the world appeared to light up again. For me there was no time as I headed straight back to camp and joined my cook group in preparing dinner for everyone. Cooking, eating, and dish washing complete, I then had to get my tent up which is always more difficult in the dark. The point of this otherwise mundane story is that for the first time in almost three weeks I was able to set up my tent on an actual patch of grass. Not dry spikey grass, not stones, not a basketball court, not sand, just a normal, green, soft patch of grass. It may have only been one day, but my time in Guinea was utilised to the max, I was exhausted, and I fell into a deep sleep full of anticipation for what was awaiting us in our next country, the Ivory Coast.

20^th December 2023