GuineaMap
November We set off early in the morning and got to the Sierra Leone—Guinea border by noon. This ordinary-looking rope separates two fundamentally different countries. ![]() The main difference between the French-speaking countries and the English-speaking ones (like Sierra-Leone and Liberia) is that the former French colonies generally have much higher levels of aggression, xenophobia and resentment. And, naturally, they’ve also inherited the French affinity for baguettes. It seems as though, along with inhumane treatment, the French introduced compulsory baguettes in all their colonies (see everything from Vietnam to Algeria). Guinea is a French-speaking country. People live in poverty, just like in the neighboring countries. ![]() Cars are loaded to the limit with goods and people. ![]() Holes are cut in the sides of minibuses to create windows for large numbers of passengers. ![]() Everyone sits around from dawn till dusk doing nothing. ![]() Peeled oranges and other fruits are sold on the street. ![]() And everyone enjoys their freedom except the people. ![]() The biggest mistake that a traveler can make in Guinea is attempting to argue with checkpoint guards about the necessity of paying for right of passage. First, several hours were lost at the border. It turns out that getting through without a bribe is about as realistic as a restaurant owner passing a health inspection for free in Russia. Everybody pays. Then I did something slightly stupid: I took a photo of another checkpoint on the way to Conakry (there are seven of them between the border and the capital). The checkpoint turned out to be a military one, so I then had the military jerking me around for two hours, first demanding ransom, then the memory card from my camera, then the camera itself, then offering to put me in jail, then proposing I wait for the anti-terrorism commandant to show up. We went to the commanding officer’s hut. One half of the bed on which he sat was covered with piles of local francs, and the other half with already stacked bundles of bills. Eventually, resolved the issue, but by then it was already dark. Guinea had recently decided to hold its first democratic election in many, many years. The election was held. And the result was a tie between the two candidates. The country was already up shit creek as it was, and now they had civil unrest and protests from both camps on top of everything else. Tallying the votes took over a week, and the announcement of the results kept getting pushed back every day. And then at last, on the day of my arrival, it was announced: one of the candidates had won with 52.52% of the vote. Riots and looting in the streets, lights out, gas stations all closed. ![]() There are no cars in the streets, people are mostly hiding. We turn onto an illuminated road which is strewn with pieces of brick, garbage, rocks, etc. Street clashes had taken place here. ![]() ↑ This is the last photo from the salvaged memory card. We get to a point where there are so many rocks that it’s impossible to continue driving. Suddenly, a gang of Africans runs out of the dark—some with machetes, others with sticks and stones—and attacks us. The flying brick fortunately hit the pillar of the car and not my head. We had been stupid enough to leave the doors unlocked. The car is surrounded by marauders on all sides, their hands reaching for anything that can be grabbed (the movie I Am Legend depicts the atmosphere quite accurately). The driver froze up for a minute because of everything that was happening and didn’t start turning around right away. My guide, who was sitting in the back seat, had a death grip on my backpack, which two men were attempting to tear away. For this, he lost his cell phone. In an unequal battle, I lost my camera—my dearest beloved 5D Mark II. The driver’s money was taken. The attackers also managed to open the trunk and steal both suitcases it contained—mine and the guide’s. By this point, the driver began to realize it was time to go. Tired but satisfied, we raced to find a hotel. There had been no goodwill in the eyes of the night robbers. Cops and the military were patrolling the streets in groups of 20, sitting in the back of parked trucks. They made no attempt to interfere in what was happening. My guide had been holding our documents in one hand (since he had to show them at every checkpoint) and the backpack in the other. The backup point-and-shoot camera happened to be in the backpack, so the rest of the photos from the trip differ in quality. We drove to the first decent hotel we could find. The security guards and concierges were watching news updates about the election on a TV installed in the IT admin’s office. ![]() The next day, the city was relatively calm because of an important Muslim holiday. Jeeps stuffed with soldiers and cops (they don’t travel alone) patrolled the streets. You could smell trouble in the air. ![]() I found myself left without socks, a toothbrush and a winter jacket for my return home. But at least I’d managed to take the memory card out of my camera during the struggle. The only camera left was the backup one, which had been in the salvaged backpack. ![]() To adorn my account with further tales of unimaginable horror, I called the Russian Embassy in Conakry in the morning. I’ve actually never contacted a Russian embassy in my life. But here I decided that there must be so few Russians in Guinea that I could at least get someone to talk to me. I was expecting, at a minimum, a complete lack of concern for my fate after the night robbery. Some dashing duty officer picked up the phone and immediately instructed me to call a certain number. I did. And reached Andrei Andreyevich. I must say that Andrei Andreyevich turned out to be an exemplary embassy employee. At first, of course, he was frightened. He seemed to think that he was being put through some kind of test by journalists from Moscow. After ascertaining that I knew the names of some local hotels, Andrei Andreyevich realized that I was the only idiot fellow citizen unfortunate enough to end up in Guinea at the most inopportune moment. And he shared some heartfelt and useful advice: don’t leave the car, don’t photograph the cops, don’t let anyone take your documents, etc. In other words, my attempt to run into the traditional embassy indifference was a total bust. Once upon a time, our friendship with Guinea was strong. ![]() UMURGA A telephone booth. ![]() One old and one brand-new telephone booth. ![]() The payphones in the half-booths are missing because they’ve been stolen. ![]() Almost all the gas stations have been closed since the previous night. ![]() A pedestrian traffic light like the one in Batumi. ![]() A regular traffic light. ![]() A street sign. ![]() Construction site fences are made from a material that looks very much like tin foil. ![]() The only well-guarded block is around the president’s residence. Plenty of well-fed military personnel and tanks here. ![]() The city is full of abandoned buildings. Vultures perch on top of a vacant hotel. ![]() The city’s trash cans, made from barrels, have no bottoms. Something must have burned in them for a long time. ![]() The sculptures in the city depict African animals. ![]() The day after the election, commerce slowly and cautiously started up again. But still only partially. Gasoline being sold in the night: ![]() My guide and I drove to the airport in hopes of getting a flight to Abidjan (the capital of Côte d’Ivoire), only to discover that the flight had been canceled and the airline had decided to admit nothing and deny everything. So I had to buy new tickets for the following day. I think it was the only flight out. An interesting detail: long-haul truck drivers hang up hammocks under their semi-trailers to avoid paying for a hotel (you can see a bit of the hammock at the end of the trailer). ![]()
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november 2010
Guinea
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