BA 046 Bengazi and Brockweir

BA046.
Dar es Salaam to London
Above Libya Over the Kufra depression

The 767 may have been old, but on the inside, the cabin is perfect. The plane is small, clean and blue. The cabin crew seem friendly and helpful. We have boarded quickly, BA’s ground security staff usher us through well. As I take my seat the Captain comes on the tannoy.

“Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen for boarding so swiftly, we are now closed up and ready to go. The first officer will be flying you to London today, that’s all from me” And with that we pushed back, and start engines. (Perhaps not in that order)

We taxi slowly, perhaps ponderously to the end of the runway, hold for some time and then with a whine the thrice weekly carrier of the Royal Mail from Dar to London rolls down the runway. Slowly at first and then gaining speed; for we have many passengers, many bags, much cargo, enough fuel for 10 hours plus and of course, the mail. At some point we attain enough lift to put our nose in the air and seconds later we unstick and climb gracefully but not too steeply up off African soil. The co-pilot holds us steady, turning neither left nor right, as we climb inexorably upwards. I suspect that height, rather than heading are important now. We pass next to the Msasani peninsula, the yachts at anchor in the yacht club look tiny, but then we turn, gently towards London. The incestuous corrupt isle of Zanzibar passes under our right wing and follow the coast to bagamoyo, where we start another lazy turn, climbing all the while towards Nairobi. 35 minutes later, after the jagged Usambara mountains, we pass Mt Kilimanjaro, the highest peak in Africa. The glacier on the roof of Africa is much smaller now. In the ten years since I have been flying over it, the white has become much smaller. No one can dispute the evidence. Nairobi and the farmlands of the north pass below us, a sort of Lancashire with high mountains behind.

Sitting next to a chap called Rob, nice lad who works in England and buys metal for hedge funds, he just spent 2 weeks in the Sheraton doing his research into all the scams that occur out here in the copper market.
“You see everyone sells the same stock of copper 13 times. You need to have cast iron people out here. I source metal all over the world, and had to see this place. We have some good people, but the agents can be terrible"

Rob had to spend two weeks in the Royal Palm hotel. As the resident expat sitting around the pool, he had unexpectedly made friends with the entire BA crew. He had had dinner with them, and they had regailed him with stories of landing sideways in crosswinds and their day trip to Zanzibar. In return he had bought a bottle of wine.As a frequent flyer, Rob had been upgraded him to World Traveller Plus.

“Its all a bit funny really. I mean I used to work for BA, so I know the score. I was doing bags in Gatwick”
“What nicking them?”
“No stupid- loading them. The nicking was all at Heathrow. No anyway, so the girls asked the purser if they could upgrade me to club." he then looked a bit embarrassed, This guy says: “ No, he’s not gay, no club for him”. So I am in World Traveller plus. Because I'm straight. I mean, do I have to be gay to get an upgrade?”
“Obviously on BA it would seem to help” I replied and we disolved into laughter. The situation was ridiculous. While the rest of the more respectable travellers read the daily mail or had tea we were sniggering, The air stewardesses probably thought we were a pair of idiots.

I read the Tanzanian Guardian. I was tired. Zanzibar was wearing me down. The constant demands for cash from our local civil servants were stressful. We did not pay the bribes, so the local government thought of a million reasons to shaft us. We had complained, but Zanzibar Government had backed up their minions, and we were in trouble. I personally had been singled out for harassment after harassment. Of course, I could have approached the situation differently, complaining was not sensible. The story is long and convoluted, after much apologising by me (ironic) the problems may be abating, but the upshot was that I was pleased to be on that plane.
“Just getting a break from the madness here?” asked Rob
“Well yes, now that you mention it that does have something to do with it”

I sat back in my comfortable, but not too large seat. A huge and very edible Breakfast came round. I scoffed some of it down, but my appetite was gone. The lack of justice of Zanzibar had really affected me.

Kenya gave way to Sudan and we started another trans Sahara. I looked down at the sand, it went from yellow to red. It must have been blisteringly hot now in August. Above the plane the sky was black and a thunder storm seemed imminent. Impossible, so I took a photo. It is published here. I thought back to all our trans Sahara crossings (www.trans-sahara.net) and was jealous. I wanted to be down there in a pair of land rovers, not on a plane. But perhaps not in August in Ramadan. I turned back to my paper gratefully.

The khufra depression came into view. A very inhospitable place, and then Benghazi and the African coast. I always feel something when crossing the African coast. Sadness or happiness, for the large continent with nothing in it. The place full of poor, stoic, long suffering but very cheerful people; watched over by terrible governments. The sun shone on us, but clouds hid Europe. We left the continent and crossed the channel near Dover. The 767 curled round in a long loop and descended through thick clouds. We broke through just over Windsor castle and the co pilot made a perfect landing. Not too soft, nice and firm and we rolled down the runway with the reverse thrust set at idle. I said goodbye to the crew and realised that the flight had been utterly painless. Indeed, it had even been relaxing. In spite of the air stewards politics, the flight had been excellent. Perhaps the boys added to the experience. They were certainly amusing.

Terminal 4 was empty, I hopped on two trains and got off at Paddington. British Rail (first great western) wanted £160 to get me to Chepstow and back, but flooding in south wales had mean’t that all tickets were valid. I paid £54 and just made a train. The intercity 125 express did not move. Lacking a driver we waited 25 minutes at the platform. At last we got off, and hammered into the rain. Britain was experiencing floods all over the place. But this was Britain, and with the exception of flogging radar and aircraft, corruption was negligible.

Wilfred thesiger once said “Britain is going to the Dogs”. Was he referring to the Labour Party? Perhaps not. He may have had a point, but I confess I rather like Dogs. It was good to be back.

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