Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  At work, they were very envious of Amie.

  “Wish I was going somewhere exciting,” grumbled one of the production assistants. “The most exciting location I’ve been on was to Worthing for some motorcycle gathering. Worthing of all places!”

  James, who worked in the tape library, was just as envious. “Wow, you lucky thing!” he exclaimed, dumping a pile of tapes on the front office counter. “Have a word with Dave, he went out to do a piece on Kenya last year. He can tell you all about it.”

  “Jonathon isn’t going to Kenya, he’s going to Togodo,” replied Amie.

  “I’m sure one African country is much the same as all the rest,” said James. “As I understand it, they’re all hot, full of dust and flies and have lots of markets selling fruit and vegetables, and hundreds of kids sitting around doing nothing. And that’s the geography lesson for today,” he said over his shoulder as he rushed down to Edit 1, balancing a pile of tapes and log sheets.

  It’s all very well for them to say I’m lucky, thought Amie, but they don’t actually have to go and live miles from anywhere, with no television and no one who speaks English, and hell, it probably won’t even be safe! African countries are always at war with one another. Every other day on the news they show a war somewhere in Africa.

  It wasn’t easy to pin Dave down and have a few words with him. He was the best in-house cameraman at Video Inc. and he was always out on one shoot or another. Amie finally ran him to ground in the production office as he was pouring himself some coffee.

  “Dave, what’s Africa like?” asked Amie.

  “Uh?” for a moment Dave looked a bit blank. “That’s not an easy question to answer in under two or three hours. Why do you want to know?”

  “Jonathon’s been offered a job in Togodo, and I know nothing about the place.”

  “Never been there, so I can’t help you, but it’ll be hot and dusty with lots of flies. In my experience, most African countries have a civilisation of sorts in the capitals. It’ll probably be more modern than you expect. Out in the bush, well, that’s another story. But hey, when you get there, keep an eye open for possible stories. We need good material for that series on young children born in this millennium and maybe I could twist Duncan’s arm to include some from other countries too. Yeah, great idea,” and Dave rushed out of the room, leaving his mug of coffee on the table.

  He’s already gone to bend Duncan’s ear, thought Amie as she went back upstairs. It was fun working in the production house, but she envied the crews who rushed past on their way to this or that location.

  “It’s all hard work and no glamour,” they’d told her at college, but Amie knew it had to be a lot more fun than sitting behind a desk all day, doing admin stuff and answering the phone. On better days, she would be asked to source props, make appointments or get permission to film in places such as shopping malls or restaurants, but … goodness, what was she thinking? Was she really getting bored in her job? Just how long would she have to wait for a promotion? A horrible thought struck her. What if they didn’t offer her the production secretary’s job when Michelle went on maternity leave, what then? It was all Jonathon’s fault, thought Amie. If he hadn’t mentioned going to live in Africa, then she would never have even questioned her current lifestyle.

  After work, Amie decided not to go straight home. She walked over the road, into the park and sat down on a bench. She needed to be where she could think. There were very few people around, just a couple of small boys near the central duck pond running away from their harassed mother. Amie glanced up at the trees, which were already starting to lose their leaves. For a start, she needed to be honest with herself. Going to Togodo would be very different from sitting in the comfort of her lounge watching Jane Goodall, or that gorilla lady battling her way through dense undergrowth in the deepest, darkest jungles. It was fine to share their adventures when you could get up, make a cup of tea and then fall into a cosy, warm bed. It was almost as good as being there without any of the inconveniences.

  But, if she was honest, it wasn’t likely they would be in the middle of the jungle. Desalination plants were generally built on the coast, next to the sea. Most news inserts showed modern African cities with roads and cars and even high-rise buildings.

  Much as Amie was reluctant to climb out of her comfort zone, she was also aware that other people saw this as a great opportunity. They’d think her a total wimp if she stayed behind and let Jonathon go on his own. It wasn’t as if she was running her own company or anything like that, they’d easily replace her at work. So why was she frightened of packing up and moving? Was it because life had thrown her a curved ball she wasn’t expecting? For the first time, Amie felt events were spinning totally out of control. Was she in a rut? One day, when she was old and grey, would she regret not taking this opportunity to travel and see a bit of the world? She would miss her family terribly, but what if she gave up her job and then when they came back in two years, she couldn’t get another one? Jobs were not so easy to find these days. And why was she the only one not excited about this opportunity? Was that because they were not being uprooted themselves? The whole idea scared Amie to death.

  As the sun went down behind the trees, Amie shivered and walked back across the road.

  “Your father and I, and Jonathon’s parents, all got together and decided this would be the very best gift,” said her mother at the airport. “I wish it was me instead of you, but I’m so proud of you for being so brave. With this, we can at least share a little of your adventures.”

  Amie, Jonathon and both sets of parents, Samantha, Gerry, Dean and Jade, were sitting in a bar outside the departure lounge at Heathrow Airport. Amie still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go on this crazy adventure. Even though she’d Googled everything she could find on the Internet about Togodo, and there wasn’t a lot, she was still unsure what to expect. Knowing how many tons of maize meal they exported each year was not going to be much help to her in her day-to-day life in a foreign country.

  They had given up their flat, packed up all their belongings and put them into storage. They’d had millions of inoculations against all kinds of diseases she’d never heard of, and bought brand new suitcases. It was a done deal, signed and sealed. There was no going back.

  Jonathon took the box and looked inside.

  “It’s digital,” explained his father, “and as we wanted to give it to you last minute, it’s quite small, but we’re assured it gives you pictures of almost broadcast quality.”

  For a moment Amie grinned, imagining Dave’s reaction if she sent him a story back, complete with footage. She’d love to see his face as he read ‘No need for you to travel out here, Dave, shot this this afternoon. Think you can put together a great insert from it!’

  “Wow,” said Jonathon, “this is really neat. Thanks, thanks to all of you.”

  “But high-end video cameras are so expensive!” exclaimed Amie. She’d heard the complaints at work when the requisitions went in for new equipment.

  “They’ve come down a lot in price, and it’s not quite the top end stuff like they have at your work, Amie,” said Jonathon’s father. “But the guy in the shop was very enthusiastic about it.”

  “And it’s a great way for you to keep in touch,” added Amie’s mother. “You can set it up and send video letters home and also take pictures of the town and all the local places.”

  “I don’t know what to say!” gasped Amie. “Thank you all so much. It’s a fabulous present.”

  “The instruction book is in there,” said Jonathon’s mother, “and it looks fairly straightforward.”

  Amie opened her mouth to reply and closed it again. Of course, she knew how to use a camera, what did they think she’d been doing for three years at college?

  “And don’t forget, when you get connected to the Internet, you can surf and order books which will tell you even more,” said Jonathon’s father helpfully.

  “The Internet,” said Amie, “in Af
rica?”

  “It’s not going to be as foreign as all that,” said Jonathon. “We’ll have a link up just as soon as we get the office up and running. I need to keep in touch with London.”

  Amie hadn’t thought about that. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be quite so scary after all.

  “And,” added Sam. “Gerry and I have got you a lightweight tripod and a small set of lights as well, so now you have the full gear. Oh, and some tapes too, of course.”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Amie. “I really don’t know what to say. How can I thank you all? I really didn’t expect this!” seeing his face, she added, “Jonathon, did you know anything about this?”

  “Well, maybe,” he admitted with a grin. “That’s why I’ve not checked in the large suitcases yet, as we will have to pack the tripod and lights in first.”

  Amie gave everyone in turn a big hug, but tearful farewells were kept to a minimum, perhaps the parents worried Amie might change her mind at the last minute. It wasn’t until they were on the plane, she realised that for better or worse, she was on her way to Africa.

  2 WELCOME TO APATU

  On board, everything was very civilized. Amie was impressed with the individual television sets which they’d never had on the short European flights. Jonathon smiled at her and squeezed her hand.

  “Excited?” he asked.

  Amie looked at her husband, over six feet tall, his fair hair was always flopping over his bright blue eyes. Even though he never jogged or worked out at the gym, he’d kept in shape, and Amie had to admit, he was extremely good looking.

  “I don’t know. Half scared out of my wits, and the other half is feeling none of this is real,” replied Amie. “How do you feel?” For the first time she wondered just how nervous Jonathon was moving to a new country and setting up a project, with lots more responsibility than he’d ever had before. He was young to be given such an opportunity.

  “I’m fine,” he said, “and, I guess, a little bit nervous, remember, I’ve never travelled this far before either.”

  “No, I suppose Spain and France don’t really count as ‘abroad’, they’re both so close to home.”

  “They don’t even stamp your passport in the EU anymore. We’ll be fine, and we’ll have fun, believe me.”

  “Yes,” said Amie, tucking her blanket around her. She glanced up towards the overhead locker where they’d put the camera box. Maybe, just maybe, she could do something with that. She knew she was just as creative as the rest of the production staff involved in making television programmes, and now she’d have the chance, at least to practice. Then, when they went home, she could get a job as director, or at least as a production assistant, and … on that thought, Amie fell asleep.

  She woke as the plane began to descend steeply, but as they were sitting in the middle section, the windows were too far away to see anything. All the seasoned travellers were gathering their things together as the plane flew lower and lower, but Amie wasn’t expecting the hard, jarring bump as the wheels touched the runway.

  “Goodness,” she gasped, “are they trying to avoid the pot holes in the runway?”

  “You’re not far wrong there!” smiled one of the passengers in a nearby seat across the aisle. “Welcome to Africa, where the first world tries to meet the third, and generally fails!”

  What can he possibly mean? wondered Amie as the plane taxied towards a long, low building in the distance.

  “Is that the airport?” Amie pointed to the only building in sight.

  “I guess so,” replied Jonathon, “though I expected something much bigger for a capital city. Still, we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “It’s not much bigger than a couple of portacabins!” said Amie. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, nothing as large as Heathrow, or Gatwick, but this looked primitive in the extreme.

  “Hush!” said Jonathon. “Remember free speech is not as popular in other countries as it is at home.”

  They gathered their hand baggage and stood patiently waiting to leave the plane. As Amie walked slowly towards the door, she became aware of the heat. It was like no other heat she’d experienced before, and when she stepped out of the plane, it seemed to hit her like a solid brick wall. She paused for a moment at the top of the steps and looked around at her very first experience of Africa. But there wasn’t much to see, only one other plane next to the runway, which reminded Amie of one she’d seen in some aircraft museum. The crush of people behind her gave her little time to see anything else, as she was half pushed down the steps onto the hot tarmac.

  She followed Jonathon as the crowd spilled out over the apron and traipsed into the terminal building. Before they reached it, Amie was sweating. She could feel small trickles of perspiration running down her back and her clothes clung to her like a second skin. She could also feel the strength of the sun on her head, like a red-hot iron.

  Inside the terminal it was a fraction cooler, due to the large number of fans mounted on the walls which were going full blast, but the noise and the crowds were overwhelming. Amie was used to orderly queues, but here, everyone was pushing and shoving to get to the counter where two bored-looking officials were working. It didn’t seem to bother them there was a huge crowd of people waiting, as they took each passport, looked at it for an interminable time, asked a question or two and then lethargically waved each person through one by one. Every so often, they would stop and chat to each other, ignoring the people anxious to get through immigration, reclaim their luggage and leave the airport. Occasionally, the staff would simply get up and walk away, causing the people nearest to their access point to push and shove sideways to regain their place close to the front in the parallel queue.

  Jonathon grabbed Amie’s arm just as she was about to get swept off her feet.

  “Let’s wait at the back, at least there’s room to move. We’re in no rush, and I doubt there’ll be many more planes landing in the next hour or so.”

  “Would there be room for another one?” asked Amie, glancing back to look at the runway.

  Slowly the crowd moved forward and by the time Amie and Jonathon reached the counter, both her feet and her head were aching. She put her hand luggage on the floor and reached into her handbag for a couple of Paracetamol.

  “Drugs?” barked the man behind the counter in a loud voice. Amie looked round, but couldn’t see who the official was talking to.

  “You, I ask you! What drugs?” The official pointed at Amie and glared at her.

  “Drugs? Oh no, just for my head, only headache tablets,” replied Amie. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed another uniformed official approaching. He was nursing a large gun. Amie began to shake; the only times she’d seen a gun was on television on the Antiques Roadshow, or in police and cowboy films.

  “Show him the packet,” urged Jonathon, “show him what they are.”

  Amie quickly dug into her handbag again and pulled out the canister of pills. She showed them to the official, who took them and peered closely at the label, though it was probably doubtful if he could understand any of the pharmaceutical information. He shook his head and put them in his pocket.

  “Hey, those are mine!” Amie was outraged. “Give them back!”

  Jonathon grabbed her arm again. “Let it go,” he hissed, “it’s only a box of pills, just let it go.”

  “But it’s the principle of it! How can they take my things like that?” exclaimed Amie, who was very close to tears.

  “Yes, I know. I understand. But now is not the time or the place. Just leave it.”

  The official behind the desk glared at Amie and waved his arm to indicate he wanted her passport. Amie reluctantly handed it over, nervous she would not get that back either. The immigration official gazed at it for a long time, scrutinizing each page, and then began stamping it over and over again. Eventually, he returned the book and waved her past. Amie grabbed her passport and moved over to let Jonathon up to the counter.

  But the official wasn�
��t finished yet. “Move on, go through,” he barked and Amie did as she was told. She hovered just beyond the barrier, waiting for Jonathon, who was whisked through with barely a glance at his passport which received only one stamp.

  “Male sexist pigs,” thought Amie. She grabbed Jonathon’s arm. “Did you see that man with a gun? In the middle of the airport! Are they expecting some trouble, Jonathon? Togodo’s not at war is it?”

  “No, I’m sure it’s not. We would have heard.”

  “Not if it broke out while we were flying over, and we were in that plane for nine hours,” Amie replied. “I’m frightened.”

  “It’s quite usual,” said the same passenger who’d spoken to her on the plane. “They always have armed soldiers at the airport, and all the other border exits. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thank you,” said Amie. “Do you live here? Have you been here long? What’s it like?”

  The man laughed. “We’ve been here for a couple of years now,” he replied as they walked on through to the customs area, and waited for their luggage to appear on the carousel. Amie was both pleased and relieved to hear a friendly voice from someone who not only spoke English, but was also familiar with the country and its customs.

  “We may have to wait a while. Nothing moves quickly here, it is Africa, remember,” he added.

  “As if I could forget,” Amie replied as the sweat continued to run down her back, soaking right through her shirt. The thick jacket she was carrying felt like a ton weight. It was difficult to believe she needed so much clothing to keep her warm in London.

  “Once we landed around lunchtime and had to wait nearly three hours for the luggage to arrive,” continued the English passenger. “Doesn’t matter what’s going on, when it’s time to eat, then everything stops. At least they don’t have a siesta here, and that’s only because this was once a British colony. Mind, some people say it’s siesta time all day in Togodo.”