Adventures with Kingsley Holgate - Afrika Outside Edge 4

Still tracking the outline of the African continent their three Land Rovers, we pick up the story in Kingsley's words

First, second and up into third and then back down into first or low ratio difflock for the next mud hole or plank bridge in our path. Clutch, accelerator, brakes - the Landies go through absolute hell. We make it through Liberia and the rainy season.

In Sierra Leone we pull off the road and into the bush. It's raining softly. Alfred our local guide is intrigued - he gets a small pop-up tent alongside Bruce. Up go our roof tents, out comes the camp chairs and the box of pots and pans, a table and the braai grid. Soon a fire's going and the kettle's on. 'Is it like this every night ' he asks. 'Yes, most nights,' says Mashozi as she and Anna chop some meat and veggies for a stew. Alfred's a lovely little guy, intelligent and very kind. I ask him about the Krio language we've heard people talking. 'It's a mix of English and various African languages,' Alfred says and gives us examples: 'Howdee bohdee ' is 'how are you ' 'I'm fine' is 'bohdee fine' or 'no bad'. 'Goodbye' is 'we go see back' and 'how much ' is 'ow mus ' 'I want to go to the toilet' is an easy one to remember, it's simply 'ah wan wet' and 'Sierra Leone' is abbreviated to 'Salone'.

The rain gets heavier and we move our chairs under the Land Rover awning. 'The West Side Boys rebel camp was down in the valley there,' says Alfred, pointing. 'Their worst mistake was when they kidnapped a twelve-man Royal Irish Rangers patrol - the British SAS and the parachute regiment hit them at dawn. They came in with big Chinook helicopters and chain guns. The rebels were running round in their underpants, firing wildly. The British rescued all the hostages; it put an end to the West Side Boys and their rebel leader Foday Kallay.'

Up early we're on the road passing hundreds of people walking to market with baskets of veggies, bundles of firewood balanced on heads and carrying upside-down chickens, swinging them by their feet. Somehow Africa survives. The passports are stamped, a bamboo pole goes up and we cross the border into Guinea Conakry.