Post 28: The Etosha Pan, weaving in and out trouble; Alpha Charlie gets a mud bath

March 16

Swakopmund to Mokuti

269 nautical miles

2hrs 50mins flying time



From desert to savannah and high ground


Fox formation is, for the first time, back together for the northbound leg. Minus David and Angela in the Cessna twin, sadly missed, who are back in th UK after their nosewheel collapse in the Sudan and William in the Whisk. We leave the coast and head inland. The landscape changes from desert to savannah.We head in loose formation towards the Etosha Pan, a 75-mile long dry lake, at the heart of one of the great game reserves of Africa.



A "benign" CB. Just don't it for granted

 We climb initially to 1,500 feet on the QNH ( a sorr of average above mean sea level) and are then are cleared to fly " low level" at FL55 ( 5,500 feet) by Walvis Bay. The terrain rises gently but unmistakeably. So does the temperature. So do the clouds. As we approach Etosha it becomes murkier. In the distance we see a Cumilonimbus (CB) cloud forming in a great tower. These can sometimes rise to 60,000 feet. This one is relatively benign. It shows no electrical activity on Alpha Charlie's Strikefinder storm detection gizmo. We nevertheless respectfully give it a wide birth. My good friend Laurie Kay gave Jo and I a masterclass in navigating tropical storms before we left Johannseburg.



Fine cloud chimneys

 Closer to Mokuti the Etosha Pan stretches to the left. The visibility clears but chimneys or curtains of fine, low cloud stretch from the solid base above to the gound below at 10-20 mile intervals. We weave in and out of them and occasionally through them to give Alpha Charlie a shower. Derek, in the Mooney, and I later debate what to call them. Answers on a postcard please. We land on the mostly dirt strip of runway 26, a bit short. Alpha Charlie gets a (mud) bath. She goes to bed in a bit of a huff. Her last words: " I am an aeroplane. Not a hippo."

The Etosha pan..filling after heavy rainfall from Angola

An Etosha elephant: a terrestrial CB

Tomorrow we go Angola, a beautiful country ravaged by civil war where over 10m landmines were planted with a budding ecotourism industry.

Post 27: Sand, dunes, a diamond rush,a ghost town and a mercy flight

Captain R Jones, the skipper who started the diamond rush in
South West Africa

Monday March 14

This may sound odd but I don’t much like travelling by air. I love flying. But going by plane means you can’t really take in the difference between one place and another. My advice is: get there, hire a car or take a bus. Talk to people. It never disappoints because you never know what to expect. After nearly 11000 nautical miles- even at Alpha Charlie’s sedate pace- places are beginning to blur in my mind: Libya, Khartoum, Quelimane, Kenya, South Africa.

But every so often you come to a place, unannounced and unscheduled that really sticks in the mind.  Luderitz, the diamond mining ghost town in southern Namibia, is such a place. If I were Pedro Almodovar this is where I’d set my next movie.

Bartolemeu Diaz, the Prtuguese seaferer, passed through this barren place in 1488. But the real story begins in 1897 when  passing skipper, Captain R Jones, arrived in Capetown, to the south, clutching a parcel of diamonds which he said he found in South West Africa, then a German Colonial Territory. His find had sparked a diamond rush. A railway was built. The magnificent town of Luderitz rose up out of the desert, whence some has now returned. Ernest Oppenheimer established the Consolidated Diamond Company of South West Africa, today De Beers. Fortunes were made. Fortunes were lost. Competition was brutal. Employment ( mainly of blacks) bordered on slavery. Mining companies were masters of the universe.

LUDERITZ AIRFIELD

We fly from Uppington, in South Africa, to clear customs at Keetmanshoop, just inside Namibia. I love Namibia: deep canyons, mountainous red sand dunes, savannah; the San bushmen of the Kalahari desert who are perhaps the oldest surviving (just) culture in the world; huge cattle farms battling it out with private game reserves for breathing space and scarce resources; the wonderful Etosha game park and the Skeleton Coast ( so called because of the bleached remains of stranded whales and skipwrecked vessels). Big country with a tiny population.

Alpha Charlie rides the up and don drafts on autopilot to Luderitiz over the mountains like small boat on a gentle rolling sea. At Luderitz Jo brings her in to land on runway 22 with a 22kt wind gusting 28kts from 170 degrees in a mini sandstorm. Not easy but safe. Alpha Charlie’s recommended crosswind limit is 17 knots. We are followed in by a Cessna twin, a mercy flight from Capetown to Windhoek which has come to pick up someone waiting in ambulance, light flashing, with an anxious relative.

THE OBELIX GUEST HOUSE

The owner, a charming lady who, it turns out is “mute” ( she cannot hear and is very difficult to understand) sits in the courtyard. I ask her for an adaptor plug. She asks her son, an angelic 8 maybe 9 year-old with a shock of blonde hair doing wheelies on his mountain bike, to “translate”. I tell him I’ve flown from England and can I have a plug please? Non sequitir. He pauses briefly,nods, gets the plug, then gets back on his bike. He is suitably unimpressed.  

PATRICK THE DIVER  

In town, studded with magnificent colonial German and Dutch architecture but deserted and soulless, we meet Jonathan,a diver. He works the small mining vessels which go to sea, south of Luderitz, for 21 days at a time. They are virtually all subcontracted to Namdeb Diamond Corporation half-owned by (yep) De Beers. They prospect mainly to the south. He dives to 30 metres in a dry suit ( the Atlantic waters at that depth are near freezing) and, using a sort of hoover connected to the boat above, sucks up diamond-rich gravel. On deck it is sifted in jigs, under armed guard. Its very big business. In 2009 nearly half of the 1.36 million carats farmed by Namdeb came from undersea mining off Namibia. I tell him I admire his pluck.

Tuesday  March 15

Bringing water the now deserrted mining town of Kolmanskuppe
in the diamond rush

Before taking off for Swakopmund we visit the ghost town of Kolmanskuppe. The deserted hospital, built in the very early 1900s had the first X-ray machine in Africa, a school, a dance hall and a casino. It was finally abandoned in 1956.  The visitors centre today does a nice cream tea.



The Good Times in Luderitz



Kolmanskuppe: A ghost town but with style



  



The indispensable Jo, henceforth Monsieur Passepartout,
parking Alpha Charlie at FYSM (Swakopmund)
( Ref M. Passepartout see Jules Vernes: Around the world in 80 days).



SWAKOPMUND
The man runway is unserviceable. I bring her in to land, after a go-around, on a vaguely recognisable, gravel runway. Just before I turn base a skydiver appears out of nowhere and lends with impeccable, Tutonic precision on the apron. This place feels like South Africa. Most of the clients at the ( very nice) Hansa hotel are Afrikaans or German wanting a slice of colonial nostalgia.

Tomorrow a game park. Then Angola and towards the Equator and the InterTropical Convergence zone. 

Post 26: NORTHBOUND. Alpha Charlie from Johannesburg to Augrabies Falls, Northern Cape. And grapes from the Falls to Tescos.





Victoria: "OK guys. Just take off and turn left."Men!!

 Sunday, March 13

Up at the crack of dawn to start the long trip north from Johannesburg up the west coast of Africa back to Cranfield in the UK.  (We are rejoining the group at Swakopmund, on the Skeleton Coast in Namibia in two days.) And to take-off with my new co-pilot, Jo Gemin, fully-loaded from a “ hot and high” airfield. Rand airport is at 5843 feet above sea level.  Add to that a ground temperature of 22 degrees celcius on the apron by 08:00 local you have a “ density altitude” ( a real altitude as far as the aircraft is concerned) of over 7000 feet. The air is thinner, the engine will have to work harder which means less lift and less power. Alpha Charlie is going to have to do some heavy lifting today. 

Alpha Charlie’s MTOW (Maximum Take Off Weight) is 2550lbs. It doesn’t matter how you massage the numbers, or tell yourself that ferry pilots cross the Pond to deliver them to Europe from the US with a 10% dispensation above that, that’s the bottom line. So if you’re taking off, fully loaded, from a “hot and high” airport you need to make sure that you’ve done your Weight and Balance and Performance calculations and you have a long enough runway ahead to get enough lift. And even then...

Gilly and my wife, Victoria, drive us to the airfield early. Victoria is going back to the UK commercial tonight. It’s been a real boost (understatement of the millenium) spending 10 days with her after the gruelling trip south. I’m looking forward to the trip north. But I’m looking forward even more to getting home and seeing her again. I give my cousin Gilly- the bedrock of the rescue operation in southern Africa after I got stuck in Mozambique- a big hug.

We are cleared to take off from runway 35. We line up, full power, one stage of flap and we roll. I ease back gently at about 62 knots and she lifts (just), helped by ground effect. This is a new experience for me. After take-off the stall warner beeps occasionally and I have to keep reminding myself ( with Jo's crisp guidance) to keep her nose down or she'll stall. We are over the runway threshold, there are small, suburban houses below and we seem to be barely climbing. After what seems an age, but is in fact barely a few minutes, we have a proper, postive rate of climb, lower the flap, bank gently and head west towards Upington airport in the Northern Cape. Upington has one of the longest runways in the world- over 17,000 feet ( that's over 3 miles)  It was built when South Africa was isolated during the Apartheid era, before Mandela came to power. The country was desperate for big runways to fly supplies in with 747s. Strategically-located Upington is also one of a tiny handful of runways around the world which serves as a back-up for the American Space Shuttle in case it can’t make it back home to the Arizona desert. 

The Bush in the Northern Cape

We land at Vryburg on the way to Upington to, erm refuel. It’s empty. Everyone is at home having a braai ( BBQ). It's Sunday stupid. Yes, I know, we should called ahead. We move on to Upington FAUP (PLEASE can we land on runway 17/35 ..NOPE). Then fly the short hop to the private strip at Augrabies Falls. The skies are mercifully free of thundersorms. We fly over real bush country. Augrabies is one of the five biggest waterfalls in the world. The Orange river falls 191 metres here to create a thundering cascade. Jo lands her on runway 36 of the short gravel strip by the Orange river with deceptive ease.

“ I like her. Very much.” He says. Everybody does.



Augrabies Falls: The Place of Noises



Vines in the desert. This is the first good 
year for rain they had in five

We stay at the Dundi Lodge. Very nice. Not flashy. Comfortable. Just right. It’s owned by an outfit called Southern Farm Investments. Their main business is growing grapes mostly for export.  They sell over 5million kgs of grapes a year, a lot to Tesco, M&S, Sainsbury’s and Waitrose in the UK. Small world or what? Their emerald-green vineyards sit in between the Orange River and the copper-coloured mountain between here and Upington. Southern Farms  also own shares in two Pilatus PC12s, in my humble opinion the sexiest STOL ( Short Take off and Land) aircraft in the cosmos with the possible exception of the Pitts and the Aviat Husky. They sometimes use these to ferry buyers from said UK supermarkets to view the perfectly-formed vitaceae. A coupleof sublime Windhoek lagers by the pool and the poor blighters don't stand a chance do they?


Tomorrow Namibia

The power of water is something which you cannot understand unless
you hear it. Or, God forbid, are caught up in it.



Post 25: Alpha Charlie goes partying

Wednesday March 9^th



Piper Party time, Woonderboom Airport Johannesburg



Alpha Charly went partying tonight. By happy coincidence the US-based Piper Aircraft Corporation were launching their new dealership in South Africa, also headquarters of their entire African operation. (Factoid: four USAs can fit into Africa. Even though 50% of Africa’s population lives on less than US$1 a day, people do an awful lot of flying around the continent.)  

Anyway Piper seemed keen to show off AC after her 9000nm journey from the UK along with her bigger siblings. Woonderboom Airport, Johannesburg. Big hoopla. Smoke, coloured strobes, nibbles, press and Frank Sinatra booming Come Fly With Me over a loudspeaker system which you could probably hear in Benghazi.

Cleaned and buffed, her chrome prop nose shiny as a button, she sat the back with her three bigger siblings: A Piper Matrix, a Seneca Twin and a Meridien. A bit like Thomas the tank engine sitting beside the Flying Scotsman and the Eurostar.

She had to have a double vodka to steady her nerves. She declined the Piri Piri prawns and beef carpaccio canapes. Staying lean and mean for the flight north.

Randy Groom, the Vice President of Piper USA had flown in from Florida. He said how well she’d done and what wonderful aircraft Piper were ( well he would wouldn’t he). The aviation industry is going through a tough time There is a big debate about how General Aviation is on the cusp with older, metal-framed aircraft being blown away in the market by newer composite aircraft which are slicker and, sometimes, cheaper to run: Cirrus, Diamond, Light Sport Aircraft. It's not obvious to me. Privately-owned aircraft take a lot of hammering. Pipers and Cessnas are rock solid. And Piper are holding their head above water. So Randy has a point. All they way here, through the most testing  environments on earth, small strips, big, rough runways, she has carried Steve and me safely without missing a beat –not one- bless her little T&Ps which remained reassuringly in the green. No overheating. No hysterics. Not from her anyway.  

The best bit of the evening was having her picture taken with Captain Courageous Laurie Kay ( see my earlier blogs and watch the move Invictus if you haven’t already) Chris Briers and his son Darius who extracted me out of Mozambique and their better halves. Chris is part of the National Aircraft Corporation (NAC), founded fourty years ago by my cousin Gilly’s Dad, Donald Ord, DFC and Bar, 21 Squadron SAAF bombers operating out of Italy and North Africa in World War II. Small aircaft. Small world.



From Left: Chris Briers and Diola Briers,( my rescuers in Mozambique), me, super-pilot Laurie Kay, Kim Beck and her bofriend Darius Briers ( son of Chris and Diola)  who flew the Cessna to get me out and Michael Van Coller who accompanied me from Rand Airport to the party

 It was all a bit overwhelming. But I could feel the quiet sense of pride radiating from under her cowling.


The good-looking guy in the suit is Randy Groom, VP Piper Corp, USA 



Sunday Jo Gemin, my immensely experienced French co-pilot and I head north: Namibia, Angola, Gabon, Sao Tome, Nigeria, Niger, Algeria, Ibiza and home.

Post 24: Southbound - journey's end

The most beautiful dream that has haunted the heart of man since Icarus is today reality.

— Louis Bleriot



Dr Livingstone I presume



Friday

Today, for the first time I understand what flight is really about. How birds must feel.  I am, you understand, a relatively inexperienced pilot, a novice, a late and slow learner. But today two young South African pilots, both younger than my son, , have come to my rescue. Thanks to them I finally discover what pilots mean when they talk about the heart soaring in flight. And to Alpha Charlie, in whom I now have absolute faith. My Archer III has carried me 9000 nautical miles across some of the most remote and inhospitable airspace on earth without missing a beat. 



DariusThe Intrepid

Darius texts to say they are wheels up just after 08:00 local and are on their way. I wait on the tarmac at a deserted, sweltering Quelimane airport. I “A”-check Alpha Charlie and file a flight plan with the help of a cuddly lady in flight ops. Kim, my driver, cleans the windscreen, wipes the remains of the tropical morning downpour off the wings and helps pack my stuff. This a big date. She needs to look her best. Just after 11:00 I hear the umistakeable growl of the 207’s three-bladed engine. Then I see it, downwind right, a steep base turn, short finals and a perfectly-judged landing. After five days in Quelimane, the cavalry has arrived. We fuel up from plastic jerry cans, and take off in loose formation for Inhambane in southern, Mozambique, just over 4 hours away.

We climb to Flight45 (4500 feet) at first, against a stiff headwind to try and get on top of a menacing cloud system coming in from the east and building as the heat rises. The outside air temperature gauge shows 25 degrees celcius. We try FL65 and then FL75. Darius, who climbs like a rocket, is above and says the cloud tops are too high. We should descend to 1000 feet on the QNH, turn left and head for the coast before resuming our southbound course. We are in cloud but we see him as a black diamond on Alpha Charlie’s TCAS ( collision avoidance system). Not for the first time I’m grateful I put it in.



Four countries on the Sentinel as we enter South African airspace

 We reach the coast over the Zambezi river delta, winding and breaking off like a great hand with many fingers after its 2,200-mile journey which includes Victoria Falls. A helicopter pilot from an outfit called Mercy Air is on the southern African chat frequency 134.45khz. He is skimming the surface. He says he has seen elephant and buffalo. “ Who are you guys?” We tell him we’re on the final furlong from the UK to South Africa. He is suitably impressed. “ Send me your blog. We do a lot of sitting around between missions”. I promise to do so as soon as I land. Strangers passing.

At the coast the skies clear. A white ribbon of sand stretches virually unbroken for two maybe three hundred miles south. Thatched fishing villages appear a few hundred feet inland, in between mangrove swamps, dunes and wetlands. We descend to 500ft. I’ve never done this before. Fishermen wave. Suddenly Darius appears just behind us, 50 feet away, perhaps less, steady as a rock. He peels away and then wheels, dives and swoops around us like a playfull porpoise. At one point he is “ on the deck” skimming the beaches at 100 maybe 50 feet. His father, Chris Briers, who has organised my rescue in the face of bureaucratic inertia and fuel profiteers who border on the criminal, is one of southern Africa’s most respected bush pilots. Darius is a chip off the old block. Watch out Dad he's catching up fast.



Henrich The Reliable

 Guided by the patient and reliable Henrich, my safety pilot, this is, by a long chalk, the most exhilirating and enjoyable flight I have ever experienced. I feel free as the Red Kites which swoar over my farm back home. Open skies, no traffic, perfect visibility: I follow Darius’s example. At least down to 300 feet. A flight of pink Flamigoes scatters to our right. I have absolute trust in Alpha Charlie. The engine is pitch perfect. We do this for an hour, maybe 90 minutes. For the first time I really “ feel” my aircraft. It becomes an extension of my will. It is an extraordinary and moving experience. Heinrich, an IFR instructor, says she is the finest PA28 he has ever flown. We fly abeam Beira, the old Portuguese port, Villancullos and finally arrive at Inhambane. “ That’s a serious aircraft you’ve got there “ Darius says after we land. Alpha Charlie is puce with embarrassment. Inhambane is clean and charming. Lobster, 2M beer and bed. Tomorrow we plan an early start to cross the border into South Africa, Kruger, Rand airport, my wife Vicioria and Gilly, my cousin, who has been ground control hopefully in time for a late lunch in her Johannesburg garden.


Darius porpoising around Alpha Charlie

 Saturday

We take off in perfect weather from Inhambane for Kruger, the largest thatched-roof terminal in the world. When get there we tuck in to a full breakast and a yummy milkshake. Alpha Charlie takes on 40 litres of Avgas, file a flight plan for Rand airport where. Victoria and Gilly are waiting. When the tower asks me to pass my message on first contact I can’t resist adding to the usual stuff: “ Point of origiin Cranfield Echo Golf Tango Charlie in the UK”. We land, Victoria ( mucu missed) hands me a bunch of r3d roses raciously bought by Gilly who has also brought a hamper with champagne, Windhoek beer and sandwiches. Alpha Charlie is put to bed. She will get a thorough check at PLACO, the Piper agents in South Africa.  A somewhat bewildered guy from the Aeroclub wanders over and reminds me to pay my landing fee. “ You came all the way from England in that?” No offence meant. None taken. 



Alpha Charlie taxing past a Moth at Rand

 

Safely tucked away 9000nm later for a bit of R&R before resuming active duty



NORTHBOUND IN 10 DAYS: We leave for the return journey up the west coast of Africa on March 15: Namibia, Angola, Congo, Gabon, Sao Tome, Nigeria, Niger, Algeria and Ibiza. My new co-pilot will be my friend Jo Gemin. I will keep you posted. Stay tuned.

PS: Good news. Charly phones to say FP-SCB, the bumble bee, can be fixed and will be able to fly north.

      

Post 23: World view from Quelimane: Another Fox down; Colonel Gazza hangs tough and Becks prepares to walk on water

News Summary
From the Alpha Charlie World News Desk

Quelimane, Mozambique

Another Fox down

Charly and Alistair in FP-SCB in better days

CHARLY has texted to say that FP-SCB aka The Bumble Bee hit a pothole at the end of the runway at Stellenbosch, South Africa (FASH) yesterday evening, suffered a propeller strike and a nosewheel collapse. Charly and Alistair are OK but the damage could be very expensive to repair. Another Fox down. He awaits an expert assessment. I wish him and Alistair well. This may be trip over for him and Alistair. I hope not. Charly generously asks if I'm still in Quelimane and am I OK? I'm very fond of Charly. This is not a bad omen. Just bad luck.

Fuel scam in Maputo 

CHRIS calls to say that the authorities at Maputo have refused to fill the drums he has provided for the fuel they are selling him. They insist he buys new ones. So he is buying fuel ( and drums) from the local fuel company appropriately named GULP. Another day, another buck in Africa. I suppose the City would call this " Adding Value". Darius will uplift what I need, refuel and, weather permitting, get to me on Friday. Captain Courageous Laurie Kay ( see earlier post) texts from Kruger wildlife reserve to say he's watching buffalo and crocodiles and thinking of me. I ask which reminds him of me: the crocs of the buffalo?

Colonel Gazza

LIBYA: Colonel Gaddafi ( henceforth Gazza the Loon) has ordered his air force to bomb protestors in the east of the country as his forces continue to slaughter people in Benghazi. He says " I'm not resigning. My people love me". He will probably be carried out feet first. We go out of Libya just in time.

Becks prepares to walk on water

DAVID BECKHAM says that his new tattoo depicting him as Jesus Christ and his kids as cherubs has " real meaning".

Today's Feature: How the carry trade works at Quelimane's fishing port

My man Kim

Kim my very cool taxi driver takes to me the Gane Fish restaurant on the creek.We eat a delicious Groupa washed down by Premium beer. We are served by the delightful Carlotta who says she wants to come to work for me in Hertfordshire. I demur. The fabulous Angolan crooner Paolo Flores belts out a Passata on the speakers. It is high tide. A dozen blue and white heavy diesel-powered trawlers from Maputo sail in convoy into the creek to unload their catch. They drop anchor and settle down for the night. I can see little pirogues with 20 litre plastic cans circling the boats. A fellow diner explains: " The guys on the pirogues buy 20 or 40 litres of diesel for 300 Meticales (about US$10). They then sell the stuff to local motoists or farmers for 500 Meticales. That's a nice profit. The trawlers carry thousands of litres of diesel so it's hardly missed". Win-win I say. He laughs and high-fives me.

Trawling for fish. Adding value by selling its owner's diesel

Post 22: Marxism, money and muck in Mozambique

Tuesday March 1^st

Darius in the Cessna 207 is still trying to get through to me with fuel and safety pilot. Villancullo airport was closed after yesterday’s wheels up accident. And there is no Avgas. Well there is, but it’s not for sale. Some slick willy has bought what Avgas the others used up yesterday and will not sell it at any price. He’s cornering a seller’s market to drive up the price. He joins a long and undistinguished company of moguls and profiteers from Chicago to Shanghai who’ve done the same with silver to cocoa over the years. He knows there are now only two places in Mozambique with Avgas: Pemba, a 4-hour flight north, and Maputo way south. Chris calls to say he is trucking some from Maputo tomorrow to the Cessna. So I can expect them here on Thursday, Kruger possibly Johannesburg Friday.

Steve has been for a flip in a Harvard at the South African Harvard Club at Swartkop, the 2nd oldest, functioning airbase in the world. Note to visiting pilots: check it out. It's a fabulous experience at a knock-down price, barely 40 minutes drive from Johannesburg. It's also got a great aero mueum.

http://www.theharvardclub.co.za/

Harvard trainer: possibly the most succesful trainer of all time. It also saw combat

 To pass the time here’s a COUNTRY NOTE: Mozambique is an odd mixture. Marxist-run since it won independence from Portugal, its colonial master, in 1975 after a 10-year military struggle; there followed a vicious civil war (the West backed the losing side) which slaughtered one million people; devastation and natural disasters have since left economic chaos and widespread poverty. And yet there is an odd sort of stability. White South Africans and Zimbabweans like this place for its beautiful beaches, islands ringed by azure seas, fabulous diving and easy-going style. Many have holiday homes on the coast. Foreign investors are interested in its titanium, untapped oil and gas and tourism potential. No doubt the Chinese are here flashing their cheque-books.

At the Flamingo hotel pool a bright, serious woman from Mozambique's Ministry of Education is tapping away at her laptop.

“ I am here to sort out a gender-strategy issue”. Not enough girls in school then or women in decent jobs? “ Yes exactly. The problem is very bad in this province. I’m trying to knock heads together”.

She is staying in a US$100 a night suite: bedroom, living-room and a jacuzzi-shower with a built-in radio and telephone. In the shower cubicle. I kid you not. I’ve got one. Outside the hotel gate, guarded by the man with the pump-action shotgun, more than 50% of people in Mozambique live on less than US$1 a day. Her 2-night stay (breakfast included) would fund one of her fellow-countrymen for 7 months.   

I’m all for altruism. And there are some extraordinary success stories in Africa. Nelson Mandela being the most obvious. And some pockets of progress. Aid agencies do (some) good work while driving around in chunky SUVs. Simon, who works for an Italian NGO in Quelimane says: " We've built wells, libraries and a health centre. But government here is part of the problem not the solution." I wonder: how much of our overseas budget is contributing to real change and making a tangible difference to ordinary people in Africa? And is there a strategy for our overseas aid budget, funded by our taxes, and,if so, what is it?   

Africa watchers divide into two groups: those who bend over backwards to be sympathetic and balanced ( mostly academics with lofty views, aid workers and officials) and journalists who bring a harder, more realistic and more authentic perspective. I know which I’d look to for insight.

For those interested in reading more about Africa I recommend two books by writers with long, personal experience of the continent:

Africa: Altered States by Richard Dowden, not without its flaws but a good country-by-country view.

It’s Our Turn to Eat by Michaela Wrong ( Ex-Financial Times) a brilliant and courageous first-hand account of corruption in Kenya

Both are available from Amazon or your local bookstore

I might go to the beach tomorrow.

Alpha Charlie tucked up for a 3rd night at Quelimane on her lonesome