princebergz:
I love this thread! Amazing stuff

Thank you!

ziziangel:
Detailed & Addictive Thread..

I'm surely learning new stuffs here

Glad you like it.

Day 37: What Do You Do When Everyone In A Country Wants Your Money?

The road from Freetown to the Guinean border is pleasantly tarred and bump-free. We all savoured the ride and got as much sleep as we could in preparation for Guinean roads. We had been warned by every Sierra Leonean we came across, that the roads were very bad. We didn’t want to think that they could be worse than what we experienced in Liberia.

When we got to the Sierra-Leone/Guinea border, we realised that both countries shared a single building as their border. This was the very first we were witnessing that kind of harmony. With every other country, you had to get out of your car to perform the routine of crossing the first border, get back into your car and drive a couple of kilometres before you were able to cross the next border. I assumed that the two countries sharing a building was to ease the immigration process but that was not the case.

We hadn’t come across any particularly anal officers in Sierra Leone until Mohammed. The process when stamping in or out of Sierra Leone was somewhat simple. You got your passports registered in a book that would be nowhere, five years from now. Then you got it stamped and registered again in another book — you know, just for the fun of it.

After we got our passports registered by a man in too tight carrot pants and sneakers instead of a uniform (who we assumed was an officer because he asked for our passports and sat in an office) we were accosted by Mohammed who is neither a customs or immigration officer. He told us he was a MINES officer and that he had to search our boxes to make sure we hadn’t smuggled diamonds out of Sierra Leone.

As we explained that we didn’t realise this was part of the process, his sidekick walked up to Fu’ad and asked us to just pay some money.

“That’s not going to happen,” we said to him and told Mohammed he was welcome to search the bus.

He walked out with us, but we didn’t realise he didn’t follow us all the way. When we returned to ask if there was any problem, he told us we had to bring our boxes into the building. Fu’ad explained that we were travellers packed for an 80-day trip. He tried to plead with him, but Mohammed’s facial expression didn’t change. He completely ignored Fu’ad. He had custody of our passports, so it was clear that we had two options: settle him or go get our boxes.

So we went to get them. He started with Fu’ad and made him empty his bag. He tried to make the process laborious, smugly dishing out orders with only a few words and lazy hand gestures. “Open that”, “move that”. When it was my turn, Kayode helped take everything out. He then instructed me to open every little purse and satchel. At that point, another immigration officer had gotten wind of the fact that we are being held hostage. She took our passports from him and stopped short of admonishing him.

It’s not a good look in front of foreigners for her to question his authority. No longer in possession of our passports, Mohammed’s search lost its steam. He half-heartedly went through my second box and simply accepted when I told him it was all clothes. He barely went through any more bags or boxes. We returned our boxes and made way to the woman who had taken our passports to be stamped. She was complaining to a superior officer about Mohammed’s behaviour. She said it was a bad look for Salone.

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Ngdchgkb:
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BigCabal:
80 Days. 14 Countries. 5 People. 1 Van

This is Fu’ad, head troublemaker at Zikoko. For 80 days, Toke, Kayode and I will be travelling across every mainland country in ECOWAS West Africa, along with our trusty interpreter/planner, Tosin, and our bus captain, Taiwo.

We’ll be looking for amazing stories about food, culture, language, money, the impact of technology and of course people, and we’ll be sharing those stories here, every day.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYzWnbCr6W0

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Great idea.
Splendid fun.
Do you have one of the West Africa focused brands as a sponsor

Very interesting. Stop by Kouroussa, Camara Laye's village in Guinea.

Dope

Love it

Is this an all expense paid trips by a major brand or is this from your pocket?

I also would love to tour the world

BigCabal:
Do you have burning questions about the Zikoko JollofRoad trip? How we did the magic of crossing Seme Border in 15 minutes? Who are the people and organizations making this trip of a lifetime possible? How we choose what places to explore? The best things that have happened so far? Watch this video to see Toketemu answer all of them!


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbfHp_7fOdg

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

Nice places

I love this! following all the way!

Good of hear of your Liberia Experience, nice country really going through an economic transition - pro poor times

BigCabal:
How Money Works In Liberia

“It’s issuing only $100 bills,” a random stranger told me on our first night in Liberia. He’d just made a withdrawal and I was next in line.

We were spending the night in Yekepa, a mining town. When that slot opened, it spat $100 bills. American money. Our hotel charged in USD – $40 per room, a healthy discount. Thank you, Melvin my man in the Star Boy shirt.

Everyone was hungry, so we went to the only open restaurant at 9 PM, a well-lit kitchen.

“Over 200 people are fed here every day,” one of the Indians running the place told us.

They charged $10 per person – an eat-all-you-can of sorts.

One full night of transactions in this country and no Liberian dollars like my Social Studies teacher promised.

The next day, we had to buy sim cards, so off we went into the market. The shop we stopped at is run by Izu, a Nigerian from Imo State. No surprises there.

Each sim card cost 500 Liberian Dollars. Each airtime scratch card costs $1. This is where the currency gymnastics began. But guess who wants to play? Me.

“Izu,” I said, “I want to change $10 to LD. How much will you give me?”

“$1 for 210 Liberian Dollars.”

I changed $50. This is what 10,500 Liberian Dollars look like.

At Ganta – about 3 hours from Yekepa when you subtract getting stuck in the mud and a whole community coming to help you – we had to buy fuel.

The giant sign outside the filling station said petrol went for 710 Liberian Dollars per gallon. The actual pump charged in US dollars; almost $1 per litre when you do the math.

“If you’re buying above 3750 Liberian dollars,” the courteous fuel attendant said, “please pay in USD.” That’s what we did.

At the border office in Ganta, some payments are made – over $50. When we got hungry and had to go eat at a Buka where they tried to kill us with the large portions, we paid roughly 500 Liberian Dollars per person.

Over 4 hours later – when you add Immigration checkpoints – we were greeted into Monrovia with rush hour traffic. That’s good enough time to go withdraw money. And what did the ATM dispense?

We reached our hotel, more USD. And I couldn’t help but ask the people at the reception, “Are there any ATMs in this country that issue Liberian Dollars?”

“I’m not sure,” John said, “but we accept only USD.”

I asked Princess too, but her answer was a different kind. “I’ve never used an ATM before.”

When it was time to pay and we wanted to use their POS – the first one we’d seen in the country – things got a little tricky.

“I had to show her how to use it,” Toke said later. “I found that very interesting.”

Toke finds everything interesting, but what I found interesting in this case is Princess. She couldn’t use a POS, not because she wasn’t smart. She’d just never had to use it.

What she’s in fact used, like most Liberians in Monrovia and in most places around the country – no matter how difficult they’re to reach – is mobile money. The biggest forces for mobile money are MTN and Orange, both telcos — the places POS terminals can’t reach yet, telcos will.

It works like this. I asked my friend, Dounard, to demonstrate. He’s a law student here in Liberia.

“Everyone has a mobile money account,” he started talking in his most Liberian accent, where the last letter of every word is not necessary.

“So ah have it, the person you want to send it to will have it – it’s connected to phone numbers. When I want to send you money, I go to an agent, tell them how much I want to send, then I give them the money, say $20. In a few moments, the other agent will receive it. When the other person wants to collect the money, they go to the agent in their area. Show them a code, and collect their cash. The agents get a small commission.”

If an agent does mobile mobile transactions, he most definitely holds cash. If he holds cash – in Liberian dollars and USD – then he’s most likely a cash exchange pointman.

That kind of explains what happened at breakfast. We – Captain and I – went out to a roadside food place. Lapper-be-door; the door is a wrapper, basically. Kate at the shop gave me Jollof Rice and Fish for 800 Liberian Dollars. Captain had his own Jollof with three drumsticks for 350 Liberian Dollars. 1,150 in total.

When I pulled out $5 to pay, she sighed, collected the money, and went to the next shop to change it to Liberian dollars. Then I paid her in Liberian dollars.

“For restaurants,” Dounard said, “pay USD. For Lapper-be-door, pay in Liberian dollars.”

It extends to a larger part of Liberian soceity.

“When you go to the markets,” Christina Kojo said, “everyone transacts in Liberian dollars.”

Sometime in the late nineties during World War II – Liberians call their civil wars World War – Christina Kojo entered Nigeria as a refugee. Today, she’s head of E-banking at Ecobank Liberia.

“Adoption of technology has increased in the past one year. Our ATMs are beginning to dispense Liberian dollars. People are more interested in POSes, businesses. A lot of people like to hold their money and keep it under their beds. But that’s changing.”

“USD has always been a thing in Liberia,” Dounard said, “since I was born at least. Water bills are paid in USD. Power bills are paid in USD.”

After the war, the country was flushed with a ton of relief money to rebuild Liberia. Sirleaf Johnson’s Liberia where she was President for 12 years saw a lot of that – a presidential term is 6 years.

The Liberian dollars was significantly more valuable than it is now. Two years ago, it used to be about 100 to 120 LD to the USD, according to Dounard.

Today, I changed mine at 210 LD to the dollar. What does this mean in the broader context? The Liberian dollars is losing value, obviously. “It wasn’t even as high as 210 at the beginning of the year,” Dounard said.

Kate didn’t have any opinions about it though. She just asked if we were going to drop by again for dinner. We’ll still be in Liberia, sounds like a great idea to me.

See http://jollofroad.com for more.

More Pix would be appreciated

nice

Nna mehn this your thread is educating everything is playing in my head like a real life experience as I am reading it.....

Attach pictures too...

No pictures? Nonsense

Africans with their chronic urge for everything American, I thought it was only Nigerians, but then see as black man dey push away him own currency in favour of oyibo dollars. No wonder, 99% of black countries are 3rd & 4th world

BigCabal nice one, weldone, travelling through the African borders can really be crazy. You guys are doing amazing. Weldone guys

Yen yen yen yen
Nonsense and ingredients just like APCheat

Please continue

Very interesting thread
Really lovely experiencing different timezones, mien, attitudes, languages, cultures etc

Nice one bro, you just woke up the inner excitement and exploration within me
Thanks for the this lovely documentary, am eagerly following. God bless you and your team

quote author=BigCabal post=83532754]80 Days. 14 Countries. 5 People. 1 Van

This is Fu’ad, head troublemaker at Zikoko. For 80 days, Toke, Kayode and I will be travelling across every mainland country in ECOWAS West Africa, along with our trusty interpreter/planner, Tosin, and our bus captain, Taiwo.

We’ll be looking for amazing stories about food, culture, language, money, the impact of technology and of course people, and we’ll be sharing those stories here, every day.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYzWnbCr6W0

See http://jollofroad.com for more.[/quote]

This is quite educative , I wish I could have all this write up just in one document.

I would like to do a Nigerian theme travel....


Visit every state in the country, well except Boko area...

Ok, this is a very good and detailed thread, makes me feel as if i'm part of the crew.

Jellof is not Nigerian but Senegalese and before that probably of Arabic origin brought over with the spread of Islam. Therefore, it’s probably not African in the first place. Nigerians popularised it internationally (in other words we expended much energy glamorising a foreign dish inadvertently reinforcing the racist notions Africans weren’t sophisticated enough and therefore have no foods with which the world may recon ). Majority of Nations well known for foods have at least one signature dish associated with them, for instance USA, Apple-pies; India, Curry; Britain Fish and chips (Jewish people introduced Fish and Chips (but the Brits may boast of the Sunday roast)); Hungarians goulash; etcetera. The tragedy is that Nigeria has so many indigenous dishes not internationally known or associated rightly with Nigeria. I believe we should, those best placed to do so, publicise Jellof rice less and make efforts to publicise or make known to the international pallet, some indigenous Nigerian dishes. If I may, can I suggest the Yam Portage? I mean that one made sweet and sour by the use of nearly overripe plantains in addition to the yams, red oil, crayfishes and pepper and so on.

They even did a detailed comparison of Ghana and Nigerian Jollof in this video.
I don watch all their videos, those people dey chop


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ii4eT3jaaPM

Interesting thread... This is the kind of thing have wished for all my life, to travel round the world.

Zikoko - one of the funniest ever Nigerian sites. Well done guys!

BigCabal:
How Do You Buy Food When Can’t Speak The Language?

The first thing you learn quickly when you enter Lomé is that everything that was on the low in Benin, is on a high here.

The food is spicier. The motorcycles are trying to kill you. The police presence is especially stronger. So what happens when you’re driving in Lomé with Nigerian plates? Chances you’ll get flagged by the police is pretty high.

“If you hear the whistle,” Captain says, “just stop.”

Where I come from, when the police really wants you to stop, they;
- Jump in front of your car,
- Try to shoot your car, or,
- Doublecross your car like a gun fight is about to start.

I’ll take whistles over any of these anyday. And the bribery scene? “They ask for money, but mostly like tips,” Captain explains. “If you don’t have your papers complete, there’s nothing you’ll give them that they’ll collect. They don’t play with documents at all.”

Our first stop of the day is Ecobank’s Headquarters. If you haven’t already noticed, these guys are our partners in making sure we have friends in every country we enter, because they are in every country we enter. So if we’re coming to Lomé, might as well drop by at their Headquarters.

We run into a couple of people; from Carl who speaks like. Then there’s Femi.

“I find your name very interesting,” I say, “what’s the meaning?”

“I have no idea,” she laughs.

“You should tell them how you got your name,” Osahon says. She smiles the smile of someone who’s said the story so many times.

“My dad named me Femi because he likes Femi Kuti so much,” she says. “He’s Malian, and my mum is Togolese.”

We talk some more about Togo, and our itinerary, and all the places we should be visiting. Like the Fetish Market. Or the beach on the weekend.

Time to move, and our compass is pointed in any direction that leads to food. We end up at a canteen whose owner reminds us all of all the Buka mummies we didn’t like very much.

“Does our Travel Insurance cover sickness,” Toke asks when she’s triggered by how the Buka mummy handles the food. Of course it does. It’s Leadway.

Everyone’s having Pounded Yam, the type that makes you wonder what exactly Nigerians have been pounding all your life.

It’s smooth, and fluffy, almost like a memory pillow. The consistent struggle is that, like the Pounded Yam we had at Cotonou, this one’s also cold.

The soup is even more interesting. It’s Sauce Blanc – White Soup – but it’s nothing like Ofe Nsala, the Igbo White Soup, and it’s for more than one reason. First of all, Togo and Benin les cantines have a thing for making sure you don’t miss out on the pepper and tomatoes.

So they just throw in the fruits whole – the tomatoes and peppers that is. So if you really want your pepper or tomatoes, you’ll have to dig in with your teeth.

One other difference it seems to have with Ofe Nsala is the thickness – Nsala uses a thickener like yam to reduces the chances of the soup dripping down to your elbow.

Toke tries to go in on Pounded Yam too, but the groundnut flavour in her groundnut soup is too strong for. Not too strong for me though. Or Kayode.

Still on food – a few hours later, Kayode and I step out of our hotel to try out a neighbourhood Canteen.

It’s the first time we’re trying to get food without Tosin, and to put it simply, it almost ended in tears.

“Riz, riz dey?” I ask. “Riz something-something-that-even-I-can’t-remember-because-I-was-saying-nonsense.”

This woman is ready for me, because she just says a bunch of things, and all I remember is “Ivory Coast” and “Poule”. We’re not in Ivory Coast, but I assume whatever she’s making is from Ivory Coast. I know Poule is chicken.

So the oui begins. We just yes everything.

“Jkbidkpkd poule?”

“Oui oui.”

“Jibdjbkbidvbubjojd.”

“Oui oui.”

Next thing you know, one of the women working there has pulled a full chicken out of the freezer, and she’s prepping it for us.

“Kayode, did we ask for full chicken?”

“I dunno, man.”

But language is a bastard, because we’re sitting there and we’re worried that if we complicate matters, we’ll end up pissing them off, and go to bed without dinner.

One guy there is slowly pounding pepper in a mortar, and looking at us. I don’t even know even if it’s sympathy or disgust. I don’t care, I’m hungry.

The woman running the place is pounding with him, her right hand holding a pestle, her left holding a cigarette.

Just when it looked like our fate of Poule was about sealed, Gerrard, our Saviour showed up – he’s the receptionist at the hotel on duty. I’d have cried and hugged him if he’d come 10 minutes later.

Apparently, we’d oui’d to Chicken, a full chicken, and chips.

What is the moral of this story? If you must buy food in a place where you don’t understand the language, maybe point at the food. If you can’t, you better have pictures.

And if you don’t have pictures, I guess you’ll have to oui-oui and take whatever lands in front of you.

For these places with language barrier, go handy with pictures in phone and Google translate ( have some data)....try to know their money too eg deux cent franc(200 CFA), deux cent cinquante(250 CFA)......Nigeria still has the most varied food type in Africa, also the best cooks with internationally exported food loved by many.....Do you know that the Chief cook of Ellen Sirleaf, ex-President of Liberia was a Nigerian woman?