Weekend Feature: Our Man in Africa

After the story of my trip to Sweden with the Queen's car was published on AudlemOnline last month, I was more than surprised by the reaction. I couldn't believe so many had read it and seemed to have enjoyed it too.

So, after relentless pressure from AudlemOnline's editor, here's a few more tales, this time from deepest Africa.

Back in the 1970s, before I moved to the motor cars business, I was 'Our Man in Africa' for the Rolls-Royce company's aero engines. I criss-crossed the continent so many times that I was so well known to UTA, the French airline that dominated so many routes there, that often I was invited to fly on the flight deck by the crew.

Egypt, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Ivory Coast, Congo, Gabon, Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Mozambique, Angola, Namibia, Zambia, Zimbabwe (or Southern Rhodesia as it was then) and South Africa were all regular ports of call.

I was dealing, mainly, with engines for the smaller aircraft that are so popular, and essential, for getting around on a continent where, with no exaggeration, the roads were so often impassable. It meant I had to mix with some real characters, mainly Americans and South Africans, some of whom have remained firm friends.

Mind you many of the pilots of the large aircraft I flew on commercially , once they knew I was on board, thought I could perform miracles. A number of times I was called to the cockpit and asked if I could fix an engine problem – while we were still in the air!

It is a Continent where trouble is often just around the corner. One occasion immediately springs to mind. I was travelling to Gabon, a little known country on the west coast just north of the Democratic Republic of Congo. I flew from South Africa on a UTA Boeing 747 freighter with a few passengers which landed briefly at Luanda, Angola and then on to Kinshasa, the capital of the Congo where I was to stay overnight before catching a flight on to Libreville, the capital of Gabon.

Now if there is one country on earth I would advise everyone to avoid, it is the Congo. It was for many years a colonial fiefdom of the Belgian monarch – indeed Kinshasa was previously called Leopoldville after the Belgian monarch – and the Belgians, when they were forced out in the 1960s, a few years before my arrival, had left it in a mess, from which it has never recovered.

"Stay at the back of the queue for Immigration at Kinshasa," I had been warned, somewhat mysteriously, as I left South Africa, which I did, alongside the only other European on the flight. He got through safely, but the officials took my passport and ticket way and I sensed trouble, not before I was able to whisper to the other European, asking him to alert UTA of my difficulty.

A UTA representative did arrive but said I should go along with the Congolese authorities but she would do what she could to sort things out. Next thing, I was in a cell with three extremely dodgy looking locals. I sat there, my briefcase between my knees, thinking I could use it as a weapon of self-defence if needed. The night was long and, quite honestly, somewhat frightening.

The worst moment was I managed to tell a guard I needed the toilet. He led me there, a machine gun trained on my back. When I saw the facilities, I said: "I wouldn't let a dog in there." Somehow, he didn't seem amused.

Fortunately, as daylight arrived, I was let out and led to the connecting flight on to Gabon, and reunited with my passport and ticket. Somehow, the man I was to meet in Libreville was waiting at the aircraft steps and had heard of my misadventure. "Where the hell have you been?" he enquired, initially looking angry before breaking into a beaming smile.

I never did find the reason for my incarceration and although it saved a night's hotel costs, it's not an experience I would recommend. "All part of the job, my boy" was the reaction I received back at Rolls-Royce from the company secretary who had complained on the company's behalf to the Congolese authorities.

Libreville in Gabon is a very pleasant town – Gabon is one of the richest countries in Africa – very much then a French colonial outpost although the country was independent by the 1970s. The country inland is still extremely wild and undeveloped. I was told, I'm not sure how seriously, to take care if venturing inland as cannibalism was still popular. When I was told that the natives tended not to eat white men, it was of scant relief. To this day, I'm not sure if it was a matter of taste or the threat of retribution that caused that dietary discrimination.

Despite such horror stories, I have fond memories of my travels in Africa. It was an exciting job. Later I was to move on to the Middle East. I was even in Iran when the Shah was overthrown. But that story can await for another day.

This article is from our news archive. As a result pictures or videos originally associated with it may have been removed and some of the content may no longer be accurate or relevant.