Abidjan

Basically, it’s child’s play to get from Munich to Abidjan. You drive to the airport, board an Airbus and land two hours later in Paris. There, you change planes, enjoy being served lunch, watch two films on the little screen – and then you’re landing in Abidjan. More than 5,000 kilometres lie between Türkenstrasse and the Rue du Canal, but it’s only a 13-hour journey. Isn’t that simple? Wait a minute. Germans don’t get onto an airplane just like that. Before they dare to fly to Africa, they first begin a complicated procedure that can take weeks and be very costly.

To get some information about the country they are travelling to, they look at the website of the German Foreign Office. There, in the case of the Côte d’Ivoire they note “an increased security risk.” Journeys to the western part of the country are urgently discouraged. You may travel to Abidjan, Yamoussoukro and a few other southern cities “after prior agreement with the embassy and with the reservation that the situation can change suddenly.” Nevertheless, one really ought not travel in the dark “for traffic safety reasons and due to the high risk of highway robberies.” This is followed by a long list of diseases that occur in the region. And the traveller begins to feel slightly uneasy about his journey.

The next stop is the Institute of Tropical Medicine at the Munich university hospital. In the waiting room, you can entertain yourself by reading leaflets on the ferocity of malaria. Not exactly motivating. The physician is friendly, she’s been to Africa many times she tells you as she routinely sticks needles in your arm. You must visit her three times and in the end you are protected from yellow fever, hepatitis A and B, meningococcal meningitis, typhus, rabies, diphtheria and tetanus. You have paid 265 euro and been given the insistent advice to swallow Malarone daily to prevent malaria. The red tablets are available at the pharmacy next door – three packets for 180 euro. Your happy anticipation of the journey has dropped another notch.

The final expedition leads to a large specialized shop for long-distance journeys. As recommended by the doctor, here you purchase a malaria net including hooks so it can be hung over your bed. You buy an agent by the name of No-bite, which is used to spray the clothing and skin to keep mosquitoes away. Plus a hat to keep off the sun. Again, the bill is over 100 euro. The salesperson mentions in a very helpful way that they have an emergency first aid package on sale, including sterile syringes, or a substance for disinfecting water, or very fine filtering systems that can be used to purify even the filthiest broth.

Stop! That’s enough! This is the point where even the most careful German has had more than he can take. And spent more. He will not spend another cent. It’s not as if he’s flying to Mars; he’ll be in one of Africa’s most modern cities.

In the evening, after 5,000 kilometres in the air, he is finally seated before his first Kédjénou de poulet. He admires the women in their colourful gowns balancing impressive burdens on their heads. He smells the spicy food, the scratching auto exhaust fumes – and the biting stench of No-bite. Finally in Africa! Finally, he can find out everything for himself.