The Fixer

Part II of working in Africa

Last week we heard about Ivo’s unusual story. You can recap here. This week, we carry on with part II and just a reminder that next week’s part III is for paid subscribers due to graphic content. If you are enjoying this series consider upgrading. So without further ado lets get into it:

“Johnny” passes his days as a “go to” or “fix-it” man for the project. His methods though are as varied as they are unorthodox.

He remains vague about his past, uncertain of the future but he does speak the Queen’s English and is fluent in Italian. Curiously, a black briefcase chained to his wrist accompanies him wherever he goes. No-one knows his age and his mystery fuels the legend. The locals are so taken by ways, they want to make him their Mayor.

Having never met the man before, we are instructed to meet him at HQ (head quarters) where the Commandant would receive us.

After a refreshing shower after our long and arduous road trip we throw our kit in the room and walk down the pot holed dirt avenue to HQ. HQ, as it turns out, is the only restaurant in town. The Commandant turns out to be a petite Portuguese girl with a flair for cooking.  She’d prepared a lavish seafood spread of fresh prawns, calamari, and grilled fish for us. After spending weeks in the rough exploration camp, we were quietly beginning to envy our Johnny here.

We enjoyed the company and the excitement of being here in this remote land, and of our success in negotiating the horrendous roads, corrupt officials and a seemingly impossible task of building the project. Great stories unfold as we peer deeper and deeper into the bottle of Vinho Verde. Slowly Letting go of the tensions that had built up over the past few weeks. We all end up drinking far too much.

The Commandant, in an unusual expansive mood tells us about her father. He had once taken ill with Malaria and nearly died so they rushed him to the local clinic in the next village which was run by Nuns.

Eventually, after a number of days, the fever broke and he woke up. The morning sunlight gently filtering through the window, everything covered in white (linen) and as he blinked, not knowing where he was, he gazed about him and saw he was surrounded by nuns. To his utter surprise he realised that he must of woken up in heaven…

Antonio, our house keeper, wakes us up far too early with strong coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. Johnny has commandeered one of the Spanish fishing trawlers and hastily bundles us into the skip before the skipper wakes up and changes his mind. We are sailing the beautiful Indian Ocean as the sun comes up. Rounding the point and coming out the protective bay, we soon approach the scattered islands offshore. Presently, we find our barges under tow in the lee of one of the islands protected against the swell.

We jump onboard from our trawler onto the supply tug and are greeted by the much feared Captain.

“Before we inspect the cargo.” He barks, “Let’s have breakfast, we can walk it off afterwards.”

We sit on the deck of his tug under an awning in the cool morning breeze trading stories while his Swahili cook serves us an English breakfast on the Indian Ocean.