We’ve been out of Africa for a while now and as two not particularly eligible bachelors a few things have remained pretty clear – we really wouldn’t be good boyfriend material.

Why? Well, we picked up a few habits from our experiences travelling around Africa.

10 Reasons your Daughter shouldn’t Date Us.

1. If she thinks it’s cute, we’ve probably eaten it. Pets are a no go.

2. Taking her out for dinner will involve choosing something from the roadside. Like these.

3. She’ll never see 5 stars unless she’s outside sleeping under them.

4. We wear the same pair of pants for well over a week without a wash. Easily and often.

5. When faced with a serious situation we might break into laughter. We’ve been arrested in Africa.

6. We’ve handled a range of African toilets. Most with no paper.

7. At the dinner table we may eat with our fingers. It’s better.

8. We’ll often be late for things as we will haggle with as many cab drivers as necessary until we find a price we’re willing to pay.

9. She’ll have to get used to local men offering us other women like their daughters, sisters, strangers and sometimes even wives.

10. We may use sounds such as ‘Hsssssst’ to get her attention instead of saying excuse me.

11. We might try to call her once a month but it’ll be short and we’ll blame a bad connection.

Ok – so we lied. There’s more than 10 reasons your daughter shouldn’t date us but is anyone surprised?

They say you need to pay a lot of bribes to travel Africa – we say they’re joking. We never paid a cent to any officials, well apart from the time were were arrested and that other time in Nigeria, but even then we bartered hard. The fact is, you don’t have to pay bribes, you just have to learn how to deal with corrupt officials effectively. It is true that corruption breeds corruption. We won’t lie, we’re Amateurs at most things but this is something we took pride in.

Here are our top 10 tips for beating bribes.

1. Ignorance
When a border official or Police officer asks for a fee or a gift, play the tourist favourite – pretend you don’t understand, if you’re like us, you probably won’t understand a thing anyway, but you’ll certainly know enough to know what’s going on. ‘Je ne parle pas Français’, look dazed and confused and blame the language barrier.

2. Awkward Laughter
Yep, it’s an awkward exchange when a guy in a military outfit holding a machine gun asks you for something – smile, nod, use some laughter and say next time or we don’t have any. Like the time we were asked to supply border guards with beer to pass by in Cameroon and we asked where were the beers?

3. Patience
Call their bluff and wait it out. It might take hours but you’ll get there. Worst case, pay your transport extra money to wait – better in their hands than corrupt officials.

4. Improvise
Flash old hand written receipts from grocery stores, from your homeland or anywhere else. Most of the time they’ll make no sense to the officials and they’ll be in another language – use it to your advantage – that’s how it worked for a Visa paid for in Francs in Togo, even if it is an old lunch voucher.

4b. Name Drop Football Stars & Learn your handshakes.
Improvisational masterclass – Football is life in Africa – know where you are and know a player’s name. Locals love it and if you can top it off with an African handshake, the one with the thumb click at the end – they might just wave you on. This proved genius for us.

5. Ask for Personal Details
Ask for the officers name or repeat his name off his badge in a sentence. They’ll get uneasy and they hate it, although that said the worst offenders we met didn’t wear name badges. Funny that.

6. Poker Face
‘Ok we’re going to take you to the station’ – response – ‘Ok, let’s go’. On all but one occasion they folded, after all, they know what they are doing is illegitimate so they last thing they want is two westerners causing trouble in front of senior authorities.

7. Stay Strong
They’ll call other officers over, they’ll check your documents, there’ll be confusion. Chill. If you’ve got your documents you’ll be fine and if they ask for your vaccination card there’s a 90% chance they’re fishing around for a bribe and clutching at straws.

8. Flash your Stamps
Refuse to pay and shine your Visa stamp. In many African countries these are just a stamp with handwriting. Acknowledge the figures and let the officals know that their countries embassy and ambassador stated the price for visa included all taxes, was final and that we were not to pay any additional fees. Offer to call the Ambassador.

9. Use Foreign Documents, legal sounding words and say ‘my Government’ and ‘your Embassy’
If you’re at this stage – they’re desperate. Show all sorts of documents, mention your government won’t be happy about these ‘fees/taxes’ and use ‘My Embassy’ wherever possible. My Government won’t be happy, can I contact your embassy to discuss this – and repeat.

10. Ask for a receipt
Last chance Saloon. Offer to pay. ‘Ok, I’ll pay you. I will pay you right now if you write down on this piece of paper how much I am paying, sign it and write your name.’ If they say they don’t do receipts, let them know that your Government needs to see what you are spending your money on. We’re 100% certain they won’t put pen to paper. Walk free.

To be honest, it feels great to walk away with a full wallet and a school boy grin. By the end of the day on a few occasions, our biggest problem was holding back the smirks of satisfaction. Just remember, if you pay the bribe, the price will probably be double for the next guy. It might seems like only a few dollars, unfortunately conceding ground here isn’t good for you or for promoting accountability in these communities. If our advice fails, we can tell you from the time we were arrested, never pay full price, we got the guard down to 25% of his original demand. Win?

Have we missed anything or have you got a story of a time you beat a bribe in Africa? Let us know down below.

Attempted sexual assault, planted drugs, drunken police, bribes and arms drawn, this is the night we never wanted to talk about. This is night that I thought I might be shot, fleeing a Mozambique police station as things escalated out of control.

It’s paradise on a Wednesday night in a bar with people from all over the world, chilling under the stars on a desolate beach. That’s how the night started in Tofo, Mozambique and none of us could have ever imagined the events that would unfold.

Warning: This story is pretty heavy. This is my first hand account.

At 2.30am a friend of mine, a young Scottish lass Sarah ventured down to Tofo Beach for a cigarette. A few minutes later screams were heard from the beach where guys in the bar saw a man wrestling with her. Luckily, with a left jab, she fended off her attacker in the darkness and made it back to the bar. To give you a better idea of the situation, he was a local police officer and he was demanding sex. He threatened to kill her if she refused, after attempts to hold her down failed. Guests in a frenzy grabbed me to help out and bridge the language barrier.

In a weird sequence of events after making it back to Fatima’s lodge, both Sarah and the American crew who’d seen the incident were confronted by the officer who pleaded his innocence. Another plain clothes officer tried to calm the situation, and by calm I mean tell us there was no problem and that there was nothing to worry about. During the screams, tears and physical aggression 30mins elapsed in which time an onlooker had ventured to the local police station to raise alarm – summoning Tofo’s most senior sergent.

An amateur move and let’s just say that I was less than impressed after negative experiences with corrupt authorities in Africa. Nevertheless, we were assured that the officer was legit, the real deal and was here to help.

Whilst Mitch stayed back to restrain an understandably irate Scotsman willing to dish out some of his own justice, which was a miracle in itself – It was agreed that we would go to the police station in Tofo to record a statement.

These were the events as they unfolded and they defied belief.

Present were the British female assaulted, a German girl, an American family, a Mozambique translator, 3 local police and myself. I made it clear that we would each be contacting our national embassies as a matter of priority following the incident. Over and over with my poker face.

Upon entry to the station Sarah immediately raised concerns – the accused officer had returned to the station and was present, now sporting more official attire. Imagine that, trying to explain one of the most horrific events ever in your life whilst having the person who attempted to sexually assault you right there in your face berating you. In an heroic effort, still visibly shaken, she pointed him out and solidered on – I’ll never know how she did it.

I requested the names of each officer in the room – naturally no officer had any identification or name tags. This was refused. I attempted to record the interview via my telephone and transcribe the interview. Needless to say both requests were also refused. My phone can’t record sound anyway but it was all about the bluff.

After recording a few lines of the victims statement on what appeared to be a loose piece of scrap paper the witnesses were asked for statements. All clearly identified the attacker as the officer. The Sergeant didn’t record any of these statements and it was almost unbearable to watch as he tried to hide a smirk amongst the victims tears. Let’s face it, his notes may as well have been written in crayon by a 5 year old child – that’s about the extent of detail he recorded.

Naturally after cutting off the witnesses, the accused officer insisted on making his own statement. Permission granted, with of course, other officers chipping in here and there with extra information. In a statement which was incredibly difficult to sit through, he tried to explain it was all a misunderstanding and that he was looking for 2 males who were allegedly smoking marijuana with the female on the beach. A claim denied by all of the witnesses.

After a short absence the officer returned with what looked to be an old ‘joint’ which he pulled from his pocket and placed it on the table. He then with increasing volume stated it was Sarah’s. This was denied and we stated we where happy to have a DNA test and await the results. Declined. Let the framing begin.

After further debate and as the accused officer who was heavily intoxicated became increasingly paniced, we sought to have the matter resolved by returning the following day. At this point the officers took the situation out of the senior officers hands – a scuffle broke out as they attempted to arrest Sarah for drug possession. In what resembled a tug-o-war we things got physical as we intervened when another witness was assaulted and the officers attempted to drag Sarah into a small back room.

Staring corruption in the face – the shit had hit the fan. If things couldn’t deteriorate any further, after running into out back the accused officer returned armed with an AK-47.

Needless to say, at this point, both the young females were beyond hysterical and I could not begin to describe the look of total fear now instilled in them as tensions reached boiling point.

As the situation escalated rapidly out of control, remaining calm, I attempted to reason with the armed officer outside. While the senior officer defended his own inside, the now totally enraged officer in the shadows of the station was jamming his firearm inches from my face, screaming Portuguese with veins popping from his protruding eyes. In desperation the family took the sergeant aside to ‘work things out’, They were forced to pay an excessive fee.

Our lives were realistically at risk, 2 of the 3 officers had also been drinking at Fatima’s lodge and were heavily intoxicated, mumbling and stumbling on edge, paniced and armed. A combination that is less than ideal.

After the screaming turned into a scuffle with the officers and the translator, we were able to push the girls out into the darkness of the street to make an escape back to the lodge. We hid the two females in the corner of an empty dormitory. You could have heard a pin drop.

As last to leave standing under only street light – I felt for the first time in my life that I might be gunned down.

Amongst the screams between the police the translator, we made our getaway as the search continued into the early hours of the morning. They never found us. The family fled town on a bus as we sat it out until the morning.

The British Embassy was there the next day and at last check in the matter was being investigated and raised by the German, American and Australian embassies.

As for Sarah, she’s home in Scotland and she is my hero.

We predicted we would run out of money in July and we were only half joking. We are total amateurs but some unexpected costs have hit us hard which even the most seasoned of travellers could not have predicted.

Here’s 7, now 9 reasons why we need you to use the PayPal button on your right to donate to keep us on the road in Africa to make sure we make it to the projects we promised and eventually make it home.

1. Border officials in Africa use massive stamps. They used so many of our pages we had to get new passports in Ghana. If you’ve ever travelled you know they weren’t cheap.

2. We were bailed up by Nigerian border police. They weren’t friendly and after spending a long time surrounded by armed officers in a small room we’ll just say we ‘lost’ a lot of cold hard cash.

3. We were arrested in Cameroon and although we got a bargain on the price on bail, we seriously needed that money.

4. In Cape Town we saw our first serious injury with Benny spending a night being stitched up in hospital. It was an expensive night’s accommodation.

5. Just this week at an ATM machine in Mozambique debiting a large sum of money from our account but not giving out any of the large sum of cash. Devastated.

6. In the Sahara one of our Computers exploded in the heat. We got it fixed in Ghana, but it wasn’t for a low Ghanaian price.

7. A Saharan sandstorm lifted the paint off our camera and took the sound out of if before leaving us with a large sctratched lens and you know none of that is cheap. We’ll also blame the low quality of our videos on this.

8. We don´t want to even talk about this one, but after a borderline hostage situation 2 days ago in Tofo, Mozambique with highly corrupt police we have even less money. Thankfully, in the end no one was hurt and although we thought we might be shot, no shots were fired. Needless to say, they took all of our money.

9. After negotiating exchange rates at the border of Malawi/Tanzania we thought we had finally struck a reasonable rate after 30minutes. Turns out during the final count, the exchanger cut 3,000 MK out of our cash before a speedy exit. It hurt.

If we can afford it, we have one month left in Africa and will be helping out on numerous projects at a Mozambican school, checking out a vital water project in Uganda and also helping build a Football Club in Kenya.

Your donation will help these projects get the attention they deserve and greatly need. Please donate via the PayPal button now. Yep – things are so bad we can’t even get a in text link to work.

On the eve of the World Cup and after almost 3 months on the road over 13,000km and 13 countries we interviewed each other.

It was a terrible idea and below you’ll find one of the worst interviews ever recorded beach side in a bar in Gabon.

Woah – what just happened?

Ok. Back up. Let’s start from the beginning – 2 hours earlier.

Border stamp and bag check at Benin – done. It would have been handy to be in gum boots to cross through the monsoonal mud puddles but in any case with Visas issued by the Nigerian embassy in our passports we’d made it to the border. Let the games begin.

There was some confusion. Why did we have new passports? Why did we have our Visas processed in Ghana and not Australia? We won’t lie we were a bit nervous, deep breaths and one calm explanation later we were filling out paperwork. Move on to the office for a stamp. Hold up – take a seat. Time for military questioning – in the end we’re still not sure exactly what happened and they didn’t really buy our story but either way they gave us a stamp, albeit for half the time we’d asked for and for a wrong reason.

We were officially welcomed into the country.

A moto ride up the road, an attempted rip-off battle and wait around for a shared taxi. An hour later and after some hard bargaining we were off. 95% of people had told us to avoid Nigeria, no one had a positive word to say, no one wanted us to go – but we’d made it – we were in Nigeria or were we?

500m into the country and we were hauled out of the car. ‘Have you got drugs?’ Funnily enough we answered no. ‘Where are you vaccination cards? Why does one of you have proof of a Meningitis vaccination and one of you does not? We don’t accept that you’ll have to go back to Benin’. Are you kidding? It’s not even listed as a prerequisite for entry anywhere.

Anyway – 1000CFA later and they’d forgotten about that. I doubt the WHO would be impressed.

Explaining our passport story at another 3 checkpoints even though we’d been given entry stamps was painful but we were patient. We were so close. Checkpoint 4 was a different story. Yes – that’s right after you enter the country officially there are still about 7 or 8 further checkpoints a few hundred metres apart serving basically no purpose all checking the same thing.

‘Ha – we’re not going to let you in’ he said as if he’d hit the jackpot on a slot machine. Checkpoint 4 refused us entry. ‘I’m sorry new passports, visa in Ghana – we don’t accept that. I’m turning you around you’ll be sent back to Accra’. ‘But sir, as we explained to the border officials, it was not possible to gain a visa in Australia, we only got new passports 3 weeks ago in Ghana’. ‘Why did you get new passports, there are pages left in your last one? So it continued…

Before we knew it we were bailed up in the head officer’s border post, a small dark room with confiscated goods and a few locals who’d brushed with the law. 20mins, 30mins, 40mins and the Taxi driver was threatening to leave with our goods. The guards had taken our passports. You’re going back to Ghana, I cannot let you in to Nigeria. The angrier the officer became with us the calmer we played it., football, Nigerian players even stooping to talk of how incredible his studies of sociology were – we tried it all.

We knew what he wanted but we’d wait it out. We’d done nothing wrong and had everything we needed – they were clutching at straws. The kind of straws that don’t exist. As the hour mark closed in, against everything we believe in, in a last ditch effort and for the first time at a border in Africa we mumbled the words they’d been waiting for. ‘Is there anything we can do to fix the situation sir?’ there was a quick response.

We can’t recall details but we think we must have dropped a large sum of money in that office. How silly of us, very disappointing.

Back on the road after lengthy arguments with the taxi driver we were off. We hadn’t realised how much trouble it was for a local driver to get a couple of ‘whites’ through – he certainly let us know. Through 3 more check points hiding behind trucks and weaving through cars like a magician there was one left. One last immigration point before the bridge, which, we were considering freedom at this point.

Gently does it – slow and steady we’re almost there. But not quite – Bang – an officer sees us and hits the back of the car. Stop! The driver accelerates as the traffic opens slightly, the officer signals up to officers further afield; in moment of panic the driver plants his foot to the floor. Up ahead and all that stands between us and a new land is one police officer. There’s a traffic jam, the driver tries to force his way past. In the rear vision mirror we watch as the immigration officers are closing in.

There are screams of racism amongst the chaos as an argument erupts and passengers scream at the policeman to let us past – ‘You’re stopping us just because these guys are white men, it’s not right we’ve been here all day dealing with that’. Over and over they yell – tired of it the policeman moves the barrier.

We’ll never forget the sounds of screeching tyres which spoke louder then any words, we’ll never forget watching the machine gun wielding officers in pursuit fade away into distance and we’ll never forget the feeling of relief and the cheers of jubilation inside the car.

We were broke, destroyed and exhausted but we were alive and we were in Nigeria. Oh, but don’t think the negotiated price for the taxi stood either, compensation for his assistance was substantial but as we learned pretty quickly, so is everything in this place.

Note: Ok so there’s no photos for this story. There was no chance on earth we were getting our cameras out. We hope you’ll understand.

There’s only one thing that scares us in Africa and that one thing is travelling at night.

Three out of the four times we’ve travelled after dark, we’ve had near misses on the road with the fourth being a safer experience in a legitimate chartered coach. We know, we thought we were just unlucky too.

Being delayed by boggings and breakdowns on the road to Timbuktu forced a twilight drive through the dunes. If the first time wasn’t bad enough, the second time the overloaded four by four almost rolled over certainly was as the passengers on board descended into pandemonium. We blamed the roads.

So we attempted a second road journey by night, hitchhiking 220km in Burkina Faso. We’d heard rumours of bandits operating outside Ouagadougou but we’d heard worse stories before and the chances of them stopping local transport – low. Anyway, there’s nothing better than a driver tearing off into the pure darkness at speeds in excess of 120km/hr 5 minutes after you’ve just met. Usually, it wouldn’t be phase us, but when you can barely see 20m in front of the car, there are no reflectors or signs to indicate the bends ahead, it’s not ideal.

Passing an oncoming truck at 115km/hr with blinding high beam headlights, there stood the biggest donkey we’d ever seen. Seriously, it was big. We’ll never know how we missed it, we’ll never forget the squeching sound of brakes and we’ll never forget the whites of the drivers eyes and the disbelief on his face.

That aside, third time had to be a charm and on the road to Accra, Ghana we narrowly avoided a head on collision in a bus. We know, that pales in comparison to the above but after escaping the last 3 from 3 night expeditions unscaved, we’re going to try really hard not to push our luck any further.

It’s pretty simple really – don’t travel at night in West Africa.

For the most part, roads are horrific during the day and they only get worse as the daylight dims. It’s not the drivers you need to worry about, it’s the lack of infrastructure, incredibly poor roads, the condition of the cars and the unpredictability of the dozens of animals you’ll see running the gauntlet every trip you take.

We should also mention, after dark you’ll barely see any other vehicles on the highways. Why? Well, the locals are just as scared driving on the roads at night as us, we just found out about the dangers the hard way.

I hate to say I told you so!
We wrote the above article on the 7th of May. On the 9th of May we were faced with a decision to travel to again at night.

Yep – you know it.

The 5th and almost certainly final time we ever travel at night, returning by tro-tro (15 seat mini van) to Accra, Ghana we were involved in a car accident. We were hit by a drunk driver on a highway – it totally destroyed the other vehicle, but luckily we avoided any injury onboard and in the subsequent arguments which followed street side after the shake up.

Just to make sure we’d learn our lesson, about an hour later on a dusty highway, we hit a speed bump at 80km/hr. It was the first time in our lives we were totally airborne in an automobile. We’re not going to lie, the impact of a packed van with 15 people on board crashing back down to earth isn’t gentle – a point proved by the battle scars. Nothing quite like a bit of blood spilt on board to make new friends and seriously, when you build a speed bump one afternoon and don’t put up a sign, that’s not cool Ghana.

The moral of the story – don’t drive at night in Africa.

There’s nothing quite like crossing an African border.

Firstly, you’ll spend 30minutes at a local garage negotiating in a foreign language for a bush taxi at a fair price, you’ll be up early trying to beat the heat and then you’ll find yourself in a sardine tin arrangement amongst luggage and 7 others in an old wagon.

After a few hours on the road, the relief upon arrival is like no other. Push through the hawkers and try to get to your bags before someone else does and follow the dusty tracks to the entrance gates. Battle with border guards and fork out an imaginary ‘exit tax’ and you’ll make your way onto the ferry to Senegal. At least that’s how things go at Rosso, Mauritania.

The border crossing here is renowned for its hassles but we weren’t anticipating the issues we would have over the next few hours. There’s a first time for everything and this was the first time we had been refused entry into a country within an hour.

We’d met a Senegalese guy in the taxi with working with a local NGO, Education Without Borders. Jackpot. It’s always a dream crossing with a local, they’ll help you through the craziness, fend off ‘helpers’ and minimise any ‘taxes’ at ferry gates and immigration. We thought we’d run the perfect race as we boarded a ferry to leave the desert behind.

But we’re Amateurs so you know it would be too good to be true and our optimism soon turned into despair an hour later when we were informed that you couldn’t purchase a tourist visa at the border. We were aware that Australians didn’t have access to the visa waiver that some nationalities have but our research had outlined – it was definately possible. Despite continual protests and “c’est possible” pleas we were shown the exit of Senegal and sent back across the river to Mauritania.

Our Senegalese fixer not only tried to help us with the border police, he also accompanied us back to Mauritania and through immigration. Needless to say, the 5 hour car trip back to Nouakchoutt in 42 degree heat capped off a perfect day’s travel.

We’d later also realised we didn’t get an entry stamp back in to Mauritania, effectively rendering us illegal aliens in Mauritania for however long it took to get the Senegalese Visa.

They said next day for the Visa, no worries.

75 Euro, 4 days later and after a lot of frustration we had our visa from the Senegalese Embassy. Probably the most precious ink we’ve ever seen on paper in the end. We may have even gotten our visa quicker if we were more help to the visa officer who was searching for a VW Golf from Germany and wanted some advice. Our lack of car knowledge had come back to haunt us.

Luck favoured us on the return journey. No one checked our passports properly, pressumably as we were by now locals on the highway and the police had already had their laughs at our expense 4 days earlier, hence we weren’t fined/arrested for overstaying a Visa. This would not have been ideal and we were preparing to pay a hefty sum.

What can you learn from us? – Read widely, don’t rely on the book and a few sources and you’ll be sweet to hit the road. We found out the hard way that in Africa you’re not all sweet. Do whatever you can to make sure you get a stamp in and out of every country. It cost us plenty of time and money.

You think it’d be one of the simplest tasks while travelling, washing clothes. Annoying and time consuming sure, but it’s never really too much of a problem. You’d think.

We experienced things differently. Turns out in West Africa, well in Nouakchoutt, Mauritania at least, the Laundromats (Lavages) are pretty much only for the top end of town and act more as a dry cleaning service rather than a quick clean for backpackers. After spending 15minutes trying to explain we wanted the most basic wash possible, you can imagine the surprise when we returned 5 hours later to this.

The equivalent of 15 Euros later – It was a lesson learnt by amateurs the hard way and was the most expensive load of washing we’ve ever had. In saying that though, the bow tie sticker on the neatly pressed, folded and plastic wrapped collared shirt was touching.

In West Africa it pays to ask around in house as often there will be a local who swings by to operate an on site hand washing service. We wish we had known that.

Knock, Knock.
Who’s there?
Amos.
Amos who?
Amos Quito. Bzzzz.

We know – lame joke right? It’s almost as lame as our efforts to take Malaria seriously until recently. There is no doubt we definately underestimated Malaria and we’re travelling into the heart of Malaria affected territory and we’ll be doing whatever we can to minimise the Bzzzz.

We’ve managed to get together just enough pills to get us through the rest of our trip, along with one tube of bug repellent and half a mosquito net. Once you do some research, you’ll soon realise we’ll need more pills to cover the first month or so once we leave Africa as well.

Learn from our amateur mistake and if you are travelling to a somewhere with a Malaria risk, don’t be like us, find out about Malaria and find out what you need to know about travelling in Malaria affected areas.

To support anti-Malaria campaigns in Africa check out the great campaigns we’ve come across Nothing but Nets and Africa fighting Malaria.