At that moment, we were on an Egypt Air Boeing 737 somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea on our way to Ivory Coast for the first time.
During 1985 there had been a string of airplane hijackings, and about eight weeks before our flight was due to leave for Ivory Coast, an Egypt Air jet was hijacked, and most of the passengers had been killed in a botched rescue attempt in Malta. Although a little anxious, we, nevertheless, decided to go ahead with our flight through Egypt. Although it had doubled our journey time, we had chosen to fly with Egypt Air because some missionaries had recommended it to us as the cheapest way to get to Ivory Coast.
We were travelling with three small children, including Kyle, who was only six months old, but the all-male crews on our Egypt Air flights were very helpful. After a long trip from London, we landed in Cairo just after dark. We carefully descended the airplane steps with the children and in the dim light of the airport apron the first person that we saw on the ground was an Egyptian soldier wearing what appeared to be a Second World War steel helmet. He was holding a Lee-Enfield rifle close to his chest and he looked like he had not shaved for a week.
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| Peter (6), Kyle (9 months), Laura (4) in Morofe, Yamoussoukro, early 1986 |
The following morning we went to the airport restaurant for breakfast. The prices were displayed in Egyptian Pounds, so we had no idea what the prices were in Sterling. We asked if they took British pounds, and the person behind the counter nodded, and with a big smile, said, “Oh, yes”. At least, I think that is what he said, because he spoke in Arabic, and at that time, I did not know a word of it! We selected a few basic items of food, just to keep the hunger away. When we got our bill was, it was obvious we had been well and truly ripped off.
We had to sit in the departure terminal for a couple of hours until we could check in our baggage. There were dozens of cats roaming around the terminal, licking crumbs from beneath the tables in the restaurant and searching for food in overflowing rubbish bins. Apparently, in ancient Egypt, cats were sacred. They may still be considered so in Cairo airport. Around noon we finally boarded our next plane and took off from Cairo on the second leg of our journey to Ivory Coast.
Our flight was scheduled to make two short stops in Nigeria before going on to Ivory Coast, so we settled ourselves for the long trip ahead. We flew low over the pyramids, and, apparently to avoid Libyan airspace, we followed the River Nile for a couple of hundred miles south, and then headed west. It was fascinating to see the irrigated fields along both sides of the Nile, but just a mile or so from the water’s edge it quickly became barren and soon there was nothing but sand and desert as far as the eye could see.
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| The Plateau, Abidjan |
However, another problem arose. Someone informed the airport authorities in Ivory Coast that our flight had been cancelled, and the missionaries who had gone to meet us at the airport were left in a quandary as what to do. After a brief stop in Lagos in southern Nigeria, and a change of crew, we took off again and finally arrived at Abidjan airport in Ivory Coast just around midnight, several hours late. After gathering together our suitcases, we made our way through customs and then out into the main Arrivals area. As soon as we passed through the exit doors, we came upon a crowd of passengers, who were shouting and pushing and shoving, all trying to grab one of the few taxis left at the airport. We stood off to one side and waited until things quietened down a little, hoping to catch a glimpse of the missionaries who had come to meet us. The terminal soon emptied, but there was no one there to pick us up. The folks who had come for us had gone home, because they had been told that we would probably arrive the next day.
Having delivered their passengers to the city, some taxis started arriving back at the airport. With our limited French we managed to find a taxi driver who spoke a little English and who said he knew the location of the Mission Evangelique in the city. We hired two rickety taxis, and with our windows wide open, we set off into the balmy African night. As we crossed the bridge from the airport over the lagoon to the centre of Abidjan, we marvelled at the skyline, replete with fifteen and twenty-story buildings bedecked on top with huge Nissan and Coca Cola neo signs. Abidjan was a very modern city, boasting the only ice rink in West Africa.
When we arrived at our destination, we discovered that the taxis had brought us to the Mission Catholique. By this time, it was 1:30 in the morning, so we had to return to the airport, where we spent the remainder of the night in the main entrance hall. We tried to make a bed with the suitcases for the children to sleep on. One of the workers at the airport who saw our predicament took pity on us. He brought over some Johnnie Walker Whiskey cardboard boxes and laid them out flat so that the children could sleep more comfortably. Marina and I did not sleep very well that night!
The next morning, with the help of some WEC missionaries, we were able to make contact with our mission guest home. Raymond and Marie Parker, NTM missionaries working in Abidjan, immediately came to rescue us. They were horrified that we had spent the night at the airport, and were very apologetic, but it was not their fault in the least. We spent a couple of very relaxing days with them at the mission guest house, and they showed us some of the many interesting sights in Abidjan.
