Although I began my African adventure in January 2001, I would like to begin my story covering a rather hectic boat trip from one country, Cameroon, to the one south, Gabon. For a quick synopsis of events leading up to this trip, Delphine, a nurse and I had been co-workers at a clinic for a number of months. Her parents had invited me to spend three days with them in their village, where they were recognized as prominent citizens, he as a retired school teacher and she as an upper-level government executive. In addition, they owned four houses, three which were rented out, and over 200 acres of farmland. Delphine’s mother in particular, was very concerned about her daughter continuing her education in the West. Delphine had already completed 15 years of schooling at the most prestigious school in her province, followed by two years of nursing school and a few months of computer training. The parents and their eldest son had traveled eight hours by bus to Douala to see us off.

Our eventual destination was Angola, a war-torn country, which I had learned had over 500,000 orphans as a result of 20-plus years of internecine civil war and AIDS. I felt that a psychologist and a nurse team would be warmly welcomed as volunteers to assist in overcoming these harsh difficulties. The mother, father, brother and I associated for three days prior to departure, getting better acquainted and discussing Delphine’s future. The parents had high hopes that following a few months in Angola that I would be able to assist her in getting into a university in Europe or America. The brother who had already earned a Bachelor of Science in Cameroon stated that even though the family was quite well-to-do, he and friends had found it impossible to be accepted into one of the Western countries for work or school. On the day prior to departure, the parents presented me with a typical African suit. I learned later from Delphine that her parents considered the two of us as being together only from a professional standpoint.

The Boat Trip (Aug 5-6, 03)

My story begins on the afternoon of August 5, 2003. Because the ship’s departure had been delayed, we had left our luggage at a small building where the customs officials inspected one’s belongings. The inspector looked concerned because he indicated it looked like he was going to have to spend a long time checking our luggage. I made his job easier by handing him the equivalent of $1.75; his response was a smile and a gesture that we should continue without further delay.

Because all five of us carried or pulled a bag, the walk to the ship, the Queen Polina was easily accomplished. Upon arrival at this noble vessel of the sea, an obviously extremely reliable craft, based on the fact that for such an ancient vehicles it had not sunk yet, we were directed to board via a 14-inch wide, fifteen-feet long plank, which passed over the water twenty feet below. Intermittently, very strong young African men carried heavy sacks on their heads onto the boat. Of course, because of their ages, Delphine’s parents were helped. Only being ten years older than Delphine’s father, I knew I would not need any assistance; however, just prior to slipping off the plank, a strong hand grasped my wrist and ensured that I made it to the ship.

In the middle of the ship, many different types of vegetables, goats, canned chocolate (which the Africans use on bread for breakfast), and other items, were stashed. On either side of the craft, there was about an eighteen-inch-wide-walkway, which was at least six-feet lower than the vegetables. Then we had to jump. Fortunately, my ankles were still strong as a result of having attended paratrooper school 40 years prior.

The nurse and I made our way to a room where passports were being collected and where a list was being checked to determine that all that entered had paid for his/her passage. This room was so crowded that not another person or animal could have fit. After handing in our passports, a gesture was made by the accountant that we should proceed upstairs. The five of us said our farewells and Delphine and I climbed an almost rope-ladder; we reached the bridge, found a few inches on a bench to sit on, and perched ourselves. After a few minutes, a well dressed African passed by us, and seemed to inquire about our welfare; he only spoke French. My only concern at the moment was that I had only brought one package of tissues, which I was well aware was not a good way to begin a long journey in the developing world. I took this package out of my pocket and transferred my concern in my head to my face, and he immediately recognized my dilemma. He refused to take any money and returned a few minutes later with five additional packs.

Next I was told to go into the bridge control room, and sit in a very comfortable raised seat, which I later learned was the captain’s chair. Had I just been promoted, or was kindness being extended to me because of my age and grey hair? A few hours later, I recognized that the latter was the case when the master of the ship showed, and indicated he needed to take his position of authority. For the remainder of the trip this small bridge area, measuring about 12 feet by eight feet was occupied periodically by various members of the crew, the captain, the steersman, Delphine and I. The faces changed intermittently, but not the available space.

The sailors changed shifts at four-hour intervals to man the wheel, and after completing their shifts, or whatever other requirements they were fulfilling, lay down in this room to sleep during their free time. Delphine mostly sat on a slightly raised stool with her head on the shelf, and presented very much like a person suffering from seasickness. Eventually, she was able to find a spot on the floor of the bridge and sleep alongside other privileged personnel who were not obliged to sleep on the deck below. On this latter group, the passengers on the bottom deck shown in the movie, The Titanic, had more comfortable positions; in my case, a vote was taken and because it was recognized that I would take up the space of at least three persons, I was told that I had to remain in my chair.

Although the captain was a little late in assuming his position, he remained in his chair for the last 30 hours of the voyage; he either wore a diaper or had taken up my modus operandi of not eating or drinking during the voyage. Here, it was my initial understanding that the entire trip was to take about eight hours. However, I was told later that it would take over 30 hours, which actually ended up being over 40 hours because we had to head out-to-sea to avoid crashing waves...

© Copyright 2007 by James L. Sullivan, Ph.D.

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