A Day Out on Sao Tome and Principe
Little known today, but even less known before the discovery of oil in their territorial waters, the tiny islands of Sao Tome and Principe take their place proudly as one nation in the list of independent countries at the United Nations.
Situated off the coast of West Africa just north of the equator, these minute tropical islands boast a population of only 169,000 . They were colonized by the Portuguese explorers in the 16th century and became a convenient watering point for ships making their way round Africa to the Far East. They became independent in 1974 when the Portuguese retreated from their African colonies as the new military ‘junta’ took power in Portugal and announced a stop to support for their loss making colonies.
Sao Tome is definitely not on the main tourist track so even my “battle-hardened” travel agent had serious doubts about my chances of surviving my chosen route unscathed. I had commitments in Angola and a couple of days later had to be in Nigeria for another important meeting but “how to get there” was the challenge. With no direct flights, there was the unattractive option of having to fly back to Europe to traverse a relatively short distance. The solution was to fly from Angola to Sao Tome early in the morning – spend the day there before traveling on to Libreville in Gabon – and then catching a flight to Lagos, Nigeria one day later. Not exactly convenient - but not untypical for travel in Africa either.
As it turned out, the journey went off exactly as planned but the “day out” in Sao Tome turned out to be a magical experience that has stuck with me for a long time.
Arrival at “Sao Tome International Airport” was uneventful, but I thought the choice of name a bit “rich” as there were no domestic airports on either of the islands. The interaction with the immigration officer proved the first indication that my “day out” was not the usual way for visitors to arrive on Sao Tome. I had, fortunately, had the prudence to arrange a visa for Sao Tome before starting my trip but the box on the arrival form entitled “Place of Residence on Sao Tome” proved to be a bit more of a challenge. “Well…. I’m not actually staying…” was my reply, but this did not seem to satisfy our defender of Sao Tome’s sovereign borders. “But” he said, raising his voice in that internationally accepted way of talking to foreigners. “you must be staying somewhere!”
The term “day out” did not seem to translate easily into Sao Tome Portuguese so it was some time before I eventually made my way through to collect my luggage and set foot on Sao Tome’s rich red soil as a bona fide visitor. ( I found out later that there was only one hotel on the island so his insistence on an address was a bit much!)
A quick look round the arrivals area confirmed my suspicions. It was exactly that – an area- and not an arrival lounge as western airports tend to boast these days. The good news was that there was a small wooden cubicle in one corner with a hand painted sign above it announcing “INFORMACAO” which seemed like a good place to start looking for directions. No more that 10 minutes of gently drumming my fingers on the Informacao Counter brought out a pleasantly smiling Informacao Assistant who was clearly willing to help. “Can I catch a taxi from here?” was my opening gambit. Her response had me charmed and amused for days when she replied “If it comes, you can catch it”. (One hotel, one taxi, one tourist. What’s the problem?)
In the end, the taxi did not turn up but the hotel bus did. (Just in case, I suppose!). Seeing this as probably my only chance of a lift to town, I nodded curtly to the driver who loaded my suitcase and off we went. The route to the hotel was along a charming coastal road with a sparkling blue sea on one side and shady tropical almond trees on the other – their leaves a splash of reds, greens and golds. The houses were typical Portuguese design with white walls and red tiled roofs – although here and there some time spent on repair to improve the weatherproofing would not have been wasted!!
The hotel staff were understandably “miffed’ that their only guest did not plan to stay the night, but my agreement to have lunch in the restaurant and my overly generous tip to the porter to look after my bags for the day seemed to calm things down.
So, suitably refreshed after a lunch of grilled Sea Bass and some excellent Portuguese wine , and with the whole afternoon to burn, I set off (on foot) to “do” Sao Tome…..
Unlike many remote places in Africa where the whole town may turn out to “view” a visiting white man, there was only one small urchin at the foot of the hotel steps. Predictably, he had something to sell but, even with the most charitable attitude towards the proffered item, I couldn’t have called it an outstanding bargain.
It was a necklace made of kidney shaped beans each about the size of a matchbox and with a rattle loud enough to encourage any football team! Brown, held together with string and making a noise - in short, it was quite hideous.
Unlike his product, my young salesman (no more than 9 years old) was quite charming. He was prattling away in Portuguese extolling the virtues of this exceptional specimen of Sao Tome art. My Portuguese is very limited and, a brief test confirmed that my young charmer had no English, so for a moment I was at a bit of a loss.
“Zut alors” I thought suddenly. I wonder if he has any French? Well, communication ensued, but with my rusty French and his limited vocabulary, we usually had a couple of false starts before understanding was achieved and confirmed. But, unlike trying to speak French in France, no-one was judgmental and, pleased that we had found a medium for communication, the negotiations began in earnest!
The price started to come down but before I was suckered into buying, I was struck with an idea. “How many necklaces do you have?” “Three” he replied. “OK” says I, “I will buy your entire stock if you agree to show me round Sao Tome for the afternoon.”
Delighted at the deal – remember, I was the only tourist around- my young guide proudly led off to show me the town.
We started at the beach which was not really the sort of place to spend your holidays but at least the water was clean and the beach relatively litter free. The tropical vegetation crowds right down to the sand so there is definitely no room for a links golf course here!
Next stop was the harbour with its single dilapidated pier. The harbour can only accommodate shallow draft vessels so larger ships have to anchor about a mile offshore and all cargo transferred to smaller ‘lighters’ which unload at the pier. I couldn’t help thinking that this was exactly how the Portuguese had transferred water 500 years ago but then the whole place had a timeless feeling to it.
The harbour was quiet at the time of my visit as there were no vessels I the roads to off load but there was the usual group of urchins splashing in the cloudy harbour water killing time till the next boat arrived.
From here it was on to the museum. Housed in an old fort dating back to the 16th century the museum is laid out in a variety of “theme rooms” and is probably the last “hands-on” museum in the world. For example, one room is set up as an 18th century dining room with a table fully set for dinner. There are no ropes or barriers and you are quite welcome to pick up the plates and crockery to inspect them at your leisure.
Another room is dedicated to the history of slavery on the islands and some of the old photos are quite gruesome and upsetting. Punishment was swift and brutal in those days!
I lost track of time as I explored the history of Sao Tome through the ages until the introduction of cocoa by the Portuguese - the story of which, and its impact on the economy of the islands, is told in another theme room,
My day out was rapidly coming to an end so, as we were strolling back to the hotel to collect my bags, I told my young companion that I would need a taxi to the airport once we got back to the hotel. “No problem” says he with all the confidence of youth.
A few minutes later, he flagged down a passing cyclist and I had this terrible image of bumping all the way to the airport on the back of a Raleigh 3 – speed……
But no – it was a man he knew, who knew his uncle, who knew another man who had a car that could take me to the airport.
So, no radio controlled taxis, no cell phones, no GPS navigation – just one small boy with friends and connections and (eventually) a Datson 120 with bald tyres and a dreadful smell of petrol - and as safe a ride to any airport as I have ever had.
