Madagascar, May 2012. "Indri Indri"

After hearing all the calls and stories about the black and white mammals of the rainforest, we were all dying to actually see an Indri.  The first time we did in “Mitsinjo nature reserve”, which is situated around 30 minutes’ walk from Grace Lodge, I honestly wanted to cry.  I was that overwhelmed by their grace and overall enchanting appearance but still, on top of all this, they just look so cute and cuddly…and I am a girl so I am allowed to get emotional at cute things, alright!

Indris are the biggest species of Lemur and lack a tail; however, this certainly does not stop their speed and agility as they fly from tree to tree with ease.  They have such long limbs, which look like they’d make such a big creature clumsy, yet they had the opposite effect.  Their little round beady eyes that look as though they could see for miles as they stared out from the top of the trees, mouths wide open allowing their unique language to boom out.

A beautiful Indri

Indris cannot survive in captivity and are only found in Andasibe, Madagascar, which made our sightings of them extra special.  At one point I was so close to being urinating on by one as I stood under a tree it was resting on.  I wonder if this would have brought me good luck.  Who knows, but I wasn’t willing to find out.

“They stay in pairs, with a youngster in tow” a young Madagascan man we stumbled upon in the rainforest informed us.  Well, I think that’s what he said, I was too busy concentrating on trying to get oxygen in my lungs; he smelt atrocious.  My eyes streamed and struggled to stay open.  Every time they closed I wasn’t in the rainforest, I was in a sewer.  We made for a quick exit and continued trekking.

I floated around the forest; now being able to breath, thank goodness, and feeling like I was in a state of ecstasy.  A most welcomed emotion that stayed with me right until I left the country.

Click here to watch a short film I made about our Madagascan adventure!

Madagascar, May 2012. "My Madagascan Mother"

'Grace Lodge' sign and the long road leading to it

“It’s a long way to Grace Lodge!” laughed the pocket sized Madagascan lady wearing a blue woolly jumper, brown trousers and her hair tied back into a long black ponytail with barely a grey hair in sight.

Her voice was soft and well spoken, she didn’t walk, she glided and her beauty shone out like sunbeams radiating across the entire group.  We felt secure in her presence, despite being four girls in a country we knew so little of.

All the travel guides had stated there was a lovely, warm hearted, Madagascan lady who worked at Grace Lodge and ‘made the experience’ for them.  We had not known what to expect but right from the start she was truly the most wonderful hostess.

“I’m Henriette!” she smiled as she grabbed our heavy luggage to take them to our rooms.  We told her she didn’t have to worry but Henriette did not let anything stop her doing what she wanted to do.

                 

Seventy-three years old, without a wrinkle on her face and still fitter than all four of us twenty-odd year old girls put together, we felt ashamed of our laziness in her company.  We’d lag behind with stitches whilst she darted off with all the cargo, not fazed by the weight of the heavy camera equipment we had brought to document our expedition.

Splitting up into two’s, with Carly and Carla sharing a room and Trish and I claiming the one next door, we went for a lie down to recover from our long journey.

Henriette returned to see how we were.   She stood in the doorway, still with the same beaming grin on her face, then her expression changed and she looked as though she was the messenger of some important information, “There is no electricity…” she paused for breath “now” she said slowly.

Trish, Me, Carla, Henriette and Carly, stood outside our rooms at Grace Lodge

There was a moment of silence as we were expecting her to tell us more but that was it.  She got to the point, gave off another huge chuckle and wandered off.  Trish and I looked at one other and burst into laughter.  We soon realised that this was a typical ‘Henry comment’.  We soon got used to them yet appreciated them, even more, every time.

Breakfast times were always amusing.  No matter how tired we were from the night before, Henry would brighten up our day and get it off to a flying start.

“They are saying things to each other like - I love you Trishy!” Henriette giggled as she informed us about the Lemurs calling to one another, whilst she brought us over another a pot of tea to help wash down our breakfasts.  “I’ve put more than two tea bags in there….” she smiled, “that means three!” she added with another classic laugh.

The first time we went out to film in the rainforest the weather was raining one minute and glorious the next, so we decided not to worry about coats.  Henry saw us leave and panicked, she was well wrapped up in her woolly jumper and coat; “I’m freezing!” she declared.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.  We’re quite warm.”  We reassured her.

“You will all get very wet.”  She fretted as we left.

We continued walking down the track that lead out of lodge, only minutes had passed since we’d told Henry not to worry yet her maternal instincts were so strong she could not relax.  We heard footsteps down the track; it was Henry running whilst swamped in a pile of different coats for us to choose from.  She had copious amounts of kindness to give and we were lucky enough to get more than our fair share.

Not a day went by when we didn’t get told how beautiful she thought we all were; yet she refused to accept the same compliment in return.

“I’m ugly” she blushed, a statement that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Henriette holding a picture of herself, aged 18

The same photograph that Henry is holding. She told us she was holding a bible and had just been to church.

After long treks in the forest, Henry’s life stories were most welcome and we were always excited for the next instalment.  We learned that she was once married but they are now separated.

“What happened?”  I cautiously asked.

“He has another woman now.”  She replied.

“Awww, Henry, we’re sorry to hear that.  It must have been hard for you.”  We all sympathised.

A huge laugh slowly built up from within her.  “It’s ok, I don’t mind!” she stated whilst still laughing.  “When I got married, I was so young I didn’t know what I had to do.  I did not know I must make love with my husband!”  her laugh changed from a chuckle into one you may hear from a giggling schoolgirl.

Not only did we love hearing all her funny, personal and emotive tales, we all admired her ‘Keep calm and carry on’ attitude to life.

Carly had only just found out she was pregnant so she asked Henriette’s advice.  We all couldn’t believe it when Henry told us that she gave birth to one of her four children on a Christmas Eve and, due to her lack of transport to the hospital, how she had to walk five miles in the rain down a long, dark road, whilst in labour, yet she still didn’t complain, she knew what she had to do so got on with it.  She is truly a wonderful inspiration to us all.

By the end of the trip she told us how she considered us all as her daughters; probably the best compliment I have ever received and I imagine all the girls feel the same way.  I feel proud to say I now have a Madagascan mother.

The Gambia, April 2012. "Eight-legged room mate"

Carly and I joked that we were going to turn our room into an ‘Ace Ventura style’ den and have all the poorly, stray, sad animals living with us for two weeks.

Much to Carly’s disapprovement, the only animal that wanted to be our roommate was a spider, an African hunting spider to be precise.  He enjoyed dwelling on our bathroom ceiling and I didn’t mind him; in fact, I really enjoyed watching him and his creepy legs as I took cool showers to escape the hot midday sun.

Carly tried to make herself feel better by calling him Oscar and letting him be but the straw that broke the camel’s back finally came when he made the great adventure from the shower to our bedroom.  I was quite happy to forget it and go to sleep but Carly said she would not be able to get a wink of sleep if he wasn’t back in his room, aka the bathroom.

I do not believe in killing any animal so I tried and tried to get a glass over the sneaky eight-legged critter so I could safely return him to the great outdoors, but he was so leggy and fast that my attempts were all in vain.

Paul, Trish and Hannah heard the commotion and came over to help catch him.  Oscar was one fast lad!  He was dashing all over the place and, although we collectively had 10 legs and 10 arms between us, we couldn’t keep up with him.

Oscar having a good time

Trish and Carly dashed off to get a bigger glass whilst Paul, Hannah and I tried to coax him out from behind the wardrobe.

I was so exhausted that I was now beyond tired.  I burst out into fits of laughter imagining the ‘much ado about nothing’ situation that we’d ended up getting ourselves into, having a Benny Hill soundtrack over it.

Trish and Carly returned minutes later, out of breath from all the running around they’d done and holding up a glass as they entered the room like it was Simba at the beginning of the Lion King.

Paul earned some man points by capturing the gigantic arachnid in the glass and putting him outside.  Oscar was no longer our roommate.   He was a free man.

I’d like to think he’s still alive and kicking in Gambia and I hope he’s learnt his lesson – do not pester girls in the future!

The Gambia, April 2012. " A new Husband every night"

I opened my eyes and looked up into my mozzie net.  Where am I?  What’s that noise?   When can I have a cup of tea?  These were the first three majorly important things to pop into my mind.

I soon discovered that I was in Gambia on a University trip and the noises were coming from of a vast array of birds and green vervet monkeys frolicking outside my window and, as for the brew, my cup of tea was to be necked in approximately one hour.

A cheeky Green Vervet Monkey

I learnt a lot of things from my time in The Gambia.  I shall now educate you on the two most important things:

Never; I repeat, never eat the papayas there.  They smell like, and I do offer my sincere apologies that I cannot put this much more politely, actual faeces and taste like vomit.  Nice.

Teale, Me, Carly and Holly, ready for breakfast

Now for something important for all the women to remember; do not go anywhere without a husband.  Don’t worry if you don’t have one; neither did I but I made damn sure I got one!

Being students, we wanted to try out the local nightlife.  Roy Armstrong, not my Dad but our module leader, took us out to experience the local bars.  They were somewhat of an experience to say the least, with money and sex hungry Gambian men lurking around every corner it was hard to relax or dance without feeling preyed upon.

‘GTS’ was a favourite place to dine for us all and where many exotic cocktails, beers, pizzas, traditional rice dishes and chips were consumed every night.  Plus, there was always some good entertainment on offer; dancers, singers, drummers and even fire-eaters performing for us.

The group having fun in GTS

There were other places to go other than GTS yet they didn’t have the same feel.  One night, Roy took us to experience a nightclub named “Wow” which was appropriately named for the wrong reasons as my first thoughts were “Wow, could you get many more sexual predators in one room?”  I was right to be cautious as the second time I reluctantly set foot in the place, I was shrouded in sweaty men and my ‘phone was stolen straight from my handbag.  Brilliant.

We stuck to GTS and it was all good fun until the money grabbers slithered out from their hiding places to choose their next victim.  The thing is, you simply cannot reason with most Gambian men; you can say “no”, you can be polite and say “no, thank you”, you can even try and be abrupt by telling them to go away, but they will just not give up.  They must think that white woman are walking goldmines, just desperate to dish out wads of cash to whoever crosses their path.  If only they could see my bank balance!

Walking down the main part of town on night on my way to get some well-deserved food with my friends Rob, Trish and Arnold, a stray dog who started following us, we came across a Gambian stranger who tried his luck with me.

This was the first time I tried out the “He’s my husband” line and, as doing so, I instantly grabbed Rob and declared my love for him; “and we’re on our honey moon” I added for extra effect.

Our new unwelcomed acquaintance profusely apologised to Rob and soon got over me breaking his heart as he instantly turned to Trish pulling out more of his best chat up lines.

“She’s my daughter!!” I declared, in a rather unconvincing way whilst blatantly laughing.  It’s worth a try but there’s no way he’s going to believe that, I thought to myself.  Shockingly, my master plan worked.  Mr Lover-lover bought it and scampered off into the night to continue his love quest.

Surely “Find me a rich wife” would be an ideal reality TV show in the Gambia.  I think I’m onto something there.  When it becomes a popular show format, remember that you heard it here first!

I was pleased the “He’s my husband” line worked as I used it to my full advantage and used it at every given opportunity. Surprisingly, each time they fell for it hook, line and sinker!

 
By the end of the two weeks everyone was married to everyone at some point, it became quite a novelty and yet I wouldn’t like it to be the case on every night out, it would get exhausting after a while!  You forget how nice it is to have a quiet drink without being pestered.

I secretly think some of the boys loved it though.  I do recall my friend Paul having about five wives in one night.  Now, come on, that’s just greedy!

Paul with his harem and Alex trying to get a look in!

Facing my fears

When the night of boarding the flight to Gambia finally arrived I was so pumped up with excitement that I did not realise how scared I actually was.

 
I ordered the taxi to the meeting point after checking my house a million and one times to ensure I had not left any plugs or, heaven forbid, the oven turned on.  It turned out I hadn’t, a truly fantastic start to any story!

I have always had a fear of flying; there is something about a gigantic piece of machinery having the ability to be able to take off from the ground carrying that amount of people that seems like some sort of witchcraft to me.

It could be because I am not fond of things that I cannot understand which may lead you to think I do not like anything in my life but, I promise, I understand some things!

The fact of the matter is that I, Camilla Ann Armstrong, do not like aeroplanes.

Having only travelled to Spain twice, once when I was ten and then again when I turned sixteen, I had forgotten what it was like to be in the sky.  I had also never experienced a long haul flight before and there I was planning two trips to Africa – Gambia first then Madagascar a week after.  I was living life on the edge!

The five minute taxi journey from my house to the meeting point seemed to drag on.  I made the usual small talk “Had a good day?  Been busy?  When do you clock off?  Got a good weekend planned?” to the enthralling taxi driver in order to pass the time.  Sure he was friendly enough, but you never seem to get a taxi driver you’d want to give your last Rolo to, do you?

When we reached our destination I got out of the taxi and saluted the driver.  Just as I did so, a single tear drop rolled down my cheek as I watched him drive away and at that moment I can honestly say I was well and truly proud to be British.  Not really, but that’s how I imagined it; in reality I just paid and got out the car.  If any tears or rushes or proudness did occur at that moment, it was probably because my case was pretty heavy and I was impressed I managed to lift it.

I scoured the area like a lonely Meerkat expecting to see the rest of my Meerkats calling for me.  Where was everyone?  Had I got the wrong place?  I waited a while, probably around three and half minutes in total, which is a long time when you’re having a panic though, isn’t it?

All of a sudden, after my stomach had been jumping and flipping around all over the place with worry, one by one, familiar, smiley faces began to crop up, all set and eager for the forthcoming adventure and soon-to-be-discovered amazing experiences we were all going to share together.

Me and Carly on the coach (before I fell to sleep)

On the coach, from Carlisle to London, the excited anticipation was so strong you could almost see it in the air.  The excited chatter and laughter of the fifty-strong group soon died down as people gradually fell to sleep.

Trying to find a distraction, I made the mistake of looking in a mirror (never do that when you’ve slept on a coach); with all the shaking around and not being able rest your head properly you end up looking like some sort of snail-like-foetus.  Well, I did and it wasn’t attractive, I assure you.

When I stepped out of the coach in the small hours on a cold April morning it didn’t feel natural.  I felt like a zombie and all I could think about was my bed.  My sick feeling died down when I saw how friendly and welcoming the airport appeared but this was no Leeds-Bradford, I was messing with the big boys now, I was inside Heathrow.

I tried not to think about the trips for weeks before the day of the first flight arrived.  I managed to get my injections (all nine of them!) without any qualms and paid for my tickets with no problems - except for being left with a skinny purse.  Never mind, I thought, he’ll get fatter when the next loan comes in!  Unfortunately, the poor lad never regained his weight and he still sits inside my bag feeling sorry for himself on a daily basis.  I really must rejuvenate the little critter at some point.

The time had finally come; no more day-dreaming, I was finally going to do it.  We found our seats.  My stomach turned and I felt sick but no-one else seemed to care.  Was I the only one?

After listening to the obligatory instructions; don’t die; don’t be sick on your kids; don’t become a member of the mile high club; that kind of thing, we started to move.

My hands were sweating; I just didn’t know how to react.  I was silent as the ‘plane gained speed down the runway.  We were flying.  Had I done it?  I opened one eye.  Yes I had!  I did it!

I was so surprised with myself that I was laughing.  I was happy and, even better,  

I was surrounded by people who love me.  It was a magical feeling, we were all one big family and, little did we know at this stage, this was barely scratching the surface of the precious memories that together we would create.

Alex, Teale and I on the flight to Gambia :)