Once within Benin with my passport stamped, I could clearly feel the enormous stress that Nigeria (and everything that is said about her) had generated in me during all the months that preceded my arrival.
Few things are as beautiful as being happily surprised, especially when the initial image that we had about something did not present a very promising picture. Nigeria, among other countries that I have visited, is one of the most demonised in the world
How long do you intend to stay in Nigeria? - The immigration officer had asked me at the time of entering the country almost a month ago. What I did not know at that time was that the answer to that simple routine question would seal the fate of my departure or maybe, my indefinite stay in the country.
I don't go to each and every one of the places I visit for pleasure. I prefer to avoid some places and effectively, I manage to avoid many of those I don't want to go to, but not others. Had it been for me, I would have avoided Lagos, as I have been able to avoid other cities with a bad reputation.
It is the end of the afternoon when a truck drops me off on the outskirts of the giant city of Ibadan. From there, it takes me more than two hours to reach the university campus where my friend Bimbo lives and she is waiting for me to host me. Traffic is hell on earth
The conflict with the extremist group Boko Haram has the country in suspense. There is a reason why I decided to shave my beard and hair and hang Christian crucifixes before arriving here and it is because in southern Nigeria,
I will be decapitated in less than two days. They are going to kidnap me, shoot me, rob me, rape me and cut me into pieces to sell my organs in the Asian market. This is a brief list of some of the things that I had been told me that will happen to me once I cross the border that I have in front of me.
5 days of strong emotions in the capital have gone by, between infamous bureaucracies, diabolic exorcisms, bicycle mechanics, body healing, aesthetic transformations and little rest. I keep going with a great deal of effort, with infected legs and half of my skull numb without apparent wishes to wake up in the near future.
The exit from Batouri is special. I do not feel my right foot, I do not feel the right half of my skull, my ankles begin to lose their shape as the wounds become more infected, I have lost at least 9kg in the last three months and I feel like I'm falling apart little by little.
The days of mud and dirt do not end when passing Yokadouma, and I have once again reached one of those unusual moments in which I miss the asphalt, even if it's only for a few days. This does not happen to me very often and when it happens it is because I really need it.
Every day it's harder for me to wake up in the morning, even after having slept a dozen hours. I feel like an old battery that lost the ability to fully charge and discharges quickly. I shake my leg and I still can not feel my foot.
With what strength will I leave this jungle if the road is bad? - I wonder sceptically the day I leave Libongo. I have eaten a lot in the last 4 days and good quality food. I have slept in a comfortable bed many hours every day and rested all my muscles, but still, I feel weak.
Pasé los últimos meses cruzando la selva sorteando un obstáculo tras otro y sometiéndome a una tras otra paliza, hasta llegar al corazón de la misma. En todo el trayecto había arriesgado mi vida más veces de las que prefiero recordar y hasta fui golpeado por un corrupto oficial de inmigración congoleño.
By the time I returned to the village, three days had passed without seeing them and I already missed them. I was happy to return and they were happily waiting for me. When I returned, it was like coming back home, as if I had never left.
While the jungle is a fascinating place, the very act of staying there is exhausting. It is the heat, day after day that never stops pressing, the sticky humidity that does not let you smell good for more than 20 minutes after each bath, the flying bugs of all sizes that overwhelm you by sticking to your body and buzzing around your ears, the lack of good food and basic comfort.
The nights in the jungle are always special. It's like when we go to a theatre and at the moment before starting the function they turn off the lights and everything is in absolute darkness. We, the spectators, at that moment fill ourselves with excitement and enthusiasm for what is to come.
Son las 6.30 am. Los primeros rayos de sol se filtran arrojando puntitos de luz dorada sobre la densa vegetación de la selva. El aire es húmedo pero conserva aún la frescura liberada por las plantas durante la noche. Las mujeres están reunidas en grupo preparando sus redes y canastas.
There are three foreigners living in Bayanga, this ever-so-small remote corner of the Central African Republic. I had come here with the help of one of them, and now I was on my way to meet the second, one of the most special people I would meet in my life.
One of the most frightening days of my life, part of some of the most extreme days that I have experienced travelling, is finally behind. Now I look around, on my first day of rest in a very long time and the fascination overwhelms me.
5.45 A.M. I open my eyes. I slept 2 hours and I suffered the rest. The thin walls of my tent reveal the first light of day. The jungle is quiet, the elephants are gone and many insects have already gone to sleep ceding the singing to the daytime birds that are already beginning to wake up.
