| All about Heinz |
| Fernando Poo When we arrived in Douala, Cameroon on a small German cargo ship from Cotonou, Benin after too long a wait in Lome, Togo, at that time one could not travel trough Nigeria because of the (Biafra) war, we were ( the name of my co-traveler unfortunately I forgot) actually smuggled into downtown by the captain as we have had no time to get a visa for Cameroon in Togo. We visited the harbor every day looking for a ship out not knowing where the ship would be going. Not to be outdone we were picked up by the police. At that time there were a lot of mercenaries traveling and looking for opportunities. The police, of course, was convinced that we were mercenaries too. It was a very long interview and the interviewer were not born yesterday but still it would have taken along time to convince them that we were not mercenaries. After the interviews we could wonder around town but we were not sure if we could tell the same stories the next day. Just has he was closing shop, we met the representative of a small airline flying to Fernando Poo from Douala. After listening to our story and not charging too much we were flying to Fernando Poo, Santa Isabel. Today the Island is called Bioko Island and the city is now called Malabo. The representative of the small airline talked to the custom people and we got in without any control. Just the passports. As it happened there was a boat in two days going to the next Island Annobon and than on to Sao Tome at that time still a colony of Portugal. So he left having still some money wishing me good luck. I still had some money, very little so. I found a little place to stay. A very small room but, ok. Once a day I went to a restaurant to eat a soup. Very soon they got to know me and did not mind that I drunk their cold clean water like a fish. Meanwhile I looked for a Job but no luck. Work was there for the oil companies but the office was mainly closed. After two weeks I had hardly any money left, just for three days. Room and soup. Finding out that there was a honorary consul for Germany I looked him up. He lived up in the hills owned a coffee plantation and an old Hotel. After listening to my story he promise to write to Germany and invited me to stay in the unused part of the hotel. I was saved and in the evenings the people working for the consul brought me a beer. Everyday I went from the hill down to the town looking for a job |
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