Genesis

This journey began for me long before March 9^th when we left Lagos for the green desert expedition.

It started in October 2007 when I interviewed Chief Newton Jibunoh for the travel section of True Love Magazine. I knew of his two previous solo expeditions and his many trips across the world. I recall asking him how many countries in the world he had visited and his response: “It might be easier for you to ask me how many countries I haven’t visited.” During the interview he told me he was rearing to embark on his third trans Saharan expedition across thirteen countries in Africa and Europe. My immediate reaction was clear and unshakeable- I was most definitely going along.

At the time, Chief Jibunoh (soon to become- Captain) had only two other team mates- Afam Ugah- Press photographer and IT man, and an auto mechanic- Joshua Adegbaju. So I offered to come as the mission’s correspondent to local and international press.

Even then, Captain didn’t quite take me seriously. But out of fear that I was indeed serious, he did all he could to dissuade me. When his warnings didn’t work, he gave me his book- ‘Me, My Desert and I’ which was replete with accounts of abductions, bouts of hallucinations, endless border delays, attacks by bandits, and photos of dead bodies sprawling the Sahara. I read the book in one day and became to Captain a shackle that wouldn’t break. I bombarded him with fresh ideas and a new perspective for the expedition and quickly became fundraiser, designer for desert wear, project manager and immigration protocol officer for the team.

My official protocol duties started in December when I made our applications for Moroccan and Algerian in Abuja. I got into Abuja late afternoon on December 16 and went straight into a meeting. After the meeting a Dutch friend of a friend’s offered to drive my friend and I home and we gladly accepted. I stacked my luggage in the trunk of her jeep and whilst attempting to climb into the back seat, an old friend who seemed at the time, excited to see me, rushed up behind me and hustled me into the car. But as soon as I felt his cold gun on my arm, I knew he was no friend of fine.

He was not alone. There was a second assailant who had attacked my friend’s friend whilst she was behind the wheel. He snatched her handbag and got into the driver’s seat. Thankfully Friends’ friend made away but regrettably had started the car and in fact turned on some music before her brilliant escape.

So there I was in the back seat with a young, frightened armed robber whose shaky fingers could decide whether I would live or die. His partner, also afraid but clearly more experienced got behind the wheel and took me with them on the longest ten-minute ride of my life. The air conditioner was on and eerie Spanish classical music played in the background. In between wiping the sweat off their faces and looking back to check who was at our tail, they engaged me in small talk.

“What is your name?” “What does that woman do?” “Where is the money?”

All very interesting, very valid questions but none of which I had the answers to, at least not the true answers.

To get to know me better, my personal assailant grabbed my bag, sorry his bag -(it ceased to be mine the moment I saw his gun) and poured out its contents, phones, house keys, chequebook, notebook, everything including my passport and the team member’s passports into the backseat.

They assured me that I wouldn’t get hurt, and in fact would drop me off on the road if I didn’t scream.

I didn’t scream.

Whilst they were driving, I asked myself, if this was the test for whether or not I had what it took to go on the expedition. Or the first of other experiences I would have during the expedition….A healthy fear had seized my mind and I remember praying to God that if he did spare my life, I would never again be afraid to live.

The noble men with guns kept their word and dropped me off on the road somewhere in Wuse. I hailed a taxi and had him drive me back home where my friends had been waiting, hoping that no ill had become of me.

That night, I didn’t sleep, I plotted a new time graph for how I would get new passports and start the visa application process all over again.

I was definitely going across the Sahara.