Running on Empty: 18,000 Miles Down Africa with Parkinson’s by Deacon Guy

Author:Deacon, Guy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ad Lib Publishers
Published: 2024-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

21

Driving on the Wrong Side

I didn’t need to go to Guinea-Bissau, a former Portuguese colony with a history of political instability and one of the lowest GDPs in the world. I could easily have turned inland and entered its far larger neighbour, the former French colony of Guinea. To distinguish between the two countries that both have the same name, Bissau, the capital, is suffixed.

However, hugging the Atlantic coast added to the integrity of my journey and, besides, I had never been there and thought it would be interesting. It’s also famed for beautiful beaches. I had a more mundane reason as I was running low on cash and needed to get to an ATM rather urgently.

Once I had crossed the border, I turned off the main road and headed west for a coastal village called Varela. The main road was little more than a potholed track with a thin tarmac veneer and the route to the coast even worse. To head west you either needed to be a good dirt road driver or have a four-wheel drive. It’s a four-hour trip with lots of red dust but worth every minute as, just past the village, lurks an idyllic deserted beach with a gently lapping warm sea and palm trees growing up to the dunes. A spit of fine white sand separates a lagoon where pelicans float next to waterlilies and dozens of songbirds break the otherwise golden silence.

I was the only person there and, after a refreshing dip in the ocean, made myself comfortable for the night. It was paradise and, unusually, I slept solidly for six hours.

But the next morning reality hit hard. For the first time on this trip, I felt utterly crippled by Parkinson’s. I managed to have a lethargic swim and some breakfast – Mandi had made sure I had plenty of food before leaving Banjul – but despite my best efforts I was moving slower than a tortoise. Just getting dressed was a series of stilted lurches. I hoped it was simply a one-off bad day, a result of being frugal with meds to make sure I didn’t run out before my resupply in Sierra Leone, but something told me it was more serious than that.

I managed to get going again and headed towards Bissau but to add to my debilitation, the wagon started making an ominous clunking sound. Again, there were no warning lights flashing, but I suspected it might be the long-suffering suspension starting to remind me that I was driving through some pretty wild country. It didn’t affect the handling of the vehicle, but I had to be extra cautious going over potholes and bumps, which were the norm rather than exception on these roads. This meant going slower with more gear changes and even greater concentration, placing increasing demands on the dopamine sloshing around inside me.

I had no plans to explore Bissau; my sole purpose of stopping was to draw cash. It was dusk when I arrived, so I decided to camp outside the city and go in early next morning.

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