A cautionary and spooky tale of travel drama in West Africa with a twist of Night Parrot

 

The Rockjumper company logo

Some people are impressed by the fact that I’ve seen 8000+ of the world’s 10,000+ species of birds, but if you've got the time and money to pay big bird tour companies for guided trips, it’s not difficult to amass totals of that order. I’ve preferred to organise my own overseas trips undertaken solo; with my partner and/or a small group of friends; or with groups I organise as leader and/or guide in co-operation with local birding guides.

That’s not to say it’s not sensible to sign up with the big tour operators. If you have the money it may indeed make sense; it’s an easier option that those mentioned above. Also more safe and stress-free, supposedly. I’ve only once participated in a tour organised by one of the big operators – a three-week trip to Cameroon in West Africa in 2006 run by South Africa’s Rockjumper. It was a long time ago but I’ve been intending since then to tell a precautionary if hair-raising tale about that trip. I’m now belatedly doing so.

Our Rockjumper tour of Cameroon

The 10 participants were flying at different times from different parts of the world to Cameroon’s economic capital - the city of Douala. Unbeknown to me, two other participants, Ketil Knudsen from Norway and Niels Poul Dryer from Denmark, were on my flight from Paris. I was one of the first to disembark in Douala but my luggage was last off the plane. I cleared Customs, expecting to find a Rockjumper representative waiting with a placard displaying my name, in accordance with company arrangements. I learned later that by this time, the representative had met Niels and Ketil and whisked them off to a roadside kerb some distance from the terminal gates, where they waited for me. My fellow tour participants asked Rockjumpe's man how I was expected to know where to find them. He offered no explanation other than that he was confident I would. He did not return to the terminal to look for me.

So when I emerged from Customs, there was no Rockjumper representative. Instead, an excitable and vocal group of about 100 young African men were vying vigorously and loudly for my attention. I was certain Rockjumper had to be there somewhere. I told the crowd I was being met by Rockjumper. Somebody called out, asking for my surname. I told them. Soon after, a placard appeared: ROBERTS it read in bold black capitals. Phew, with a sigh of relief I made my way to the guy with the sign and we headed off. I was exhausted after the long flight from Brisbane and not thinking clearly. It simply did not occur to me that the sign had just been composed.

We headed not to the airport exit gates but through an underground carpark to a cafe, where he told me to wait for a few minutes while he went and got some supplies for the trip. The only other person in the cafe was a young woman who watched me intently, saying nothing. As I sat there, it dawned on me that this man was unlikely to be the real deal. I realised that I was extremely vulnerable, with a heavily laden luggage trolley in tow. I got up and quickly made my way back to the airport terminal entrance area, a distance of about 500 metres. The woman said nothing.

From L to R: Me on the Cameroon tour with Niels, local guides and Ketil 

I emerged from the terminal and there was still no Rockjumper representative: I gather that by then he had left the airport with the other two guests. Rockjumper had given us two numbers to call in case of an emergency. Both numbers repeatedly went to voicemail, although it was well-known to the company that guests were arriving at the airport at around that time. I knew the name of our hotel in Douala, the Ibis, and called it. The receptionist told me the hotel had no bookings for Rockjumper or for me, and they couldn’t put me through to anybody from the company (which turned out to be untrue). There were a couple of taxis at the airport and one driver was insistent that I get in, but I had read enough about crime-ridden Douala to know to avoid taxis. Douala’s crime problems are chronic: just last month authorities tightened security in the city in a bid to contain escalating levels of gang violence, with one newspaper reporting the community was “gripped with fear”.

I had no idea what to do next. Usually I have arrangements in place to facilitate departure from airports in foreign destinations but I was in the hands of Rockjumper. I looked around for police or airport ataff but there were none. It was then that I was tapped by a well-dressed African man who told me that I needed to follow him immediately. I wasn’t impressed with that idea after what had happened, but he said he’d been watching and talking to an airport informant. He gave me the startling news that a group of well-known gangsters was on my trail!

Inside Douala International Airport terminal

The group, including the man with the sign, turned up at the cafe just after I’d left and then disappeared. But they were now regrouping and heading my way with the intent evidently of abducting or robbing me. The well-dressed man showed me his ID indicating he worked for one of the city’s prestigious hotels and said we had to leave quickly in his vehicle. He was quite frantic and distressed so I believed him; by then there were very few other people about. We ran (as best you can when pushing a heavy trolley) to his vehicle in the carpark and as we got in, a group of four young men came running towards us shouting; two wielded weapons that appeared to be machetes.

My benefactor put his foot to the floor and accelerated just as the mob was about to reach us. He was demonstrably shaken, as was I. He told me these men belonged to a gang which had robbed people at the airport, taken part in carjackings, and were believed responsible for the murders of people in the city. Whether the men chasing us were connected to the taxi-driver who insisted I get in his cab is unknown, but travellers to Cameroon are warned to avoid taxis as cab drivers often work in co-operation with gangs. My rescuer drove me to the Ibis, where I confirmed that the hotel was indeed expecting me. I offered money to this wonderful man who doubtlessly spared me a great deal of grief and possibly my life, but he refused to accept it.

David Hottintott

I decided at once that I needed to put the incident out of mind if I was to enjoy the tour; that it must be the consequence of unfortunate mishaps. It was not until later, especially after talking to Ketil and Niels, that the magnitude of Rockjumper’s failures became clear. Half way through the tour, we flew to Douala on a domestic flight from Garoug in northern Cameroon. At the airport we ran into the Rockjumper man who was supposed to meet me upon arrival in the country. I demanded to his face to know why he put my welfare in danger. This brought an unexpected intervention from tour leader David Hoddintott – an otherwise affable and extremely capable birding guide – who tore into me, insisting the man had been there with a welcoming sign and I must have walked past him, and that I was blowing the incident up out of proportion. Luckily Ketil and Niels overheard this; they told David in no uncertain terms the truth of what transpired.

Grey-necked Rockfowl: pic by Matthew Matthiessen

I raised the matter with Rockjumper owner Adam Riley after returning home. I was offered an apology and a credit ($400 from memory) towards the cost of a future Rockjumper trip. The company would ensure that in future, all guests arriving on tours would be met. It had been my intention to write a travel feature on the trip for my employer at the time, The Australian newspaper, but I was not in a mood to do so after these events. To be sure, the trip was an outstanding success birdwise and we saw some wonderful species including Grey-necked Rockfowl. The guiding was of a high standard and the organisation generally sound. No doubt the great majority of tours don’t encounter these issues.

Adam Riley

But over the years, the experience has quietly and surprisingly gnawed away at me. I’ve had a few near misses with danger on birding forays over the years, but signing up with one of the world’s most respected bird tour companies was supposed to be… safe. Above all, safe. The matter came to the fore again in 2017 when I reported in the pages of The Australian and on my blog that Adam Riley was sounding out a potential participant for “glamping” trips to Pullen Pullen Reserve in western Queensland, where the Night Parrot had been rediscovered.

The idea, which Adam outlined in an email (below) was for clients to pay $25,000 a head – most of it as a donation to Pullen Pullen owners Bush Heritage Australia – in return for the opportunity “to see” a Night Parrot. The species is regarded as one of the rarest and most mysterious birds in the world. The trips were organised under the auspices of BirdLife International, the email said, although BirdLife denied involvement.

Adam told me it was not difficult to make the link between my “expose” about the glamping trips and what he dismissed as my “gripe” – dictionary definitions of gripe include “minor complaint” and “complain about something in a persistent, irritating way” - about the Cameroon experience. He thought the matter had been settled “amicably” years ago (news to me), adding: “I still do not feel that Rockjumper was in any way negligent….”

So Rockjumper was echoing David Hoddintott’s view expressed at the airport that everything the company did was appropriate. Adam’s comments made a mockery of the apology offered previously. The Rockjumper view? Nobody from the company greeting me upon arrival? Yes there was. Emergency phone numbers going to voicemail? No matter. Hotel not having a record for the group or me? Not our fault. Chased through an airport carpark by a group of thugs with evil on their mind? Either made up or dramatised, and nothing to do with us anyway. In sum: nothing to see here. Not then, not now.

Night Parrot