February 1

I wake up early and find it is strange to think that tomorrow I will wake up in Cairo.  

John messages and says that the aid worker has asked if he and his band of merry men can stay until Monday.

We leave for Harare at about midday and go to the airport.  Once again, I am feeling nervous as I check-in.

In the departure lounge, I try to connect to the wi-fi, but it won't work so I ask a lady in one of the shops how I do it and she says that I need to ask the lady who works for Tel-One, who isn't there at the moment!  You would think that with so few flights leaving Harare every day, that when people were actually there someone would be on duty.  

The toilets at the airport are in a rather sad state of affairs with broken door handles, empty soap dispensers and hand dryers that don't work.  I am sure it would not take much to get them working again.  Things like door handles are very easily fixed; it is just laziness or lack of interest that prevents them from being mended.

My plane comes in from Addis and literally twenty minutes after the passengers have disembarked, we are asked to board.  It is really a glorified bus service for I cannot believe that they would have cleaned the plane in that amount of time.  I am right: in the seat pocket in front of me is a plastic bottle.

However, the flight is fine and passes quickly.  I watch episodes of Friends and read. When the plane lands in Addis Ababa, I have a very short time to get my connecting flight and find that everyone is walking very slowly.  All the people with masks on due to the coronavirus look very creepy.  Bole Airport appears to be in a state of being built.  Some bits of it are OK, but others are a bit of a building site.  We are all ushered into a small space in which we have to put all our things through an x-ray machine and it is taking a very long time.  I ask an assistant which way I should go for the Cairo flight and he immediately looks alarmed and ushers me through a short cut. 'Hurry up!  Hurry up!  Hurry up!' he urges me and so I grab my things and run.

When I get to the gate, passengers are boarding, but I am not the last in the queue.  However, they are asking everyone for their yellow fever card and I didn't know anything about it.  My heart sinks as I am asked to stand aside and I am afraid I am going to be put on the next plane back to Harare.  However, after asking us to stand aside, they then ask us again if we have a yellow fever card, we all say no and so they tell us to get on the bus and we are taken to the plane.

I had a funny turn while waiting as I was convinced I shouldn't get on the flight.  Perhaps not having a yellow fever card is a good thing and I shouldn't be on the plane as it is about to be shot down by Iran.  I panic a bit, especially as the plane is so old that the air hostess actually puts a video on for everyone to watch. It reminds me of the flights I used to get to the UK in the early 1990s - when people would ask what the movie had been. I am convinced Brad Pitt looks about twenty years younger than he should. I say all sorts of prayers, begging God to get me back home in one piece, affirmations - I am safe, this aeroplane is completely dependable, I reach Cairo safe and well - and try all the yogic breathing techniques I know.  The man sitting next to me is completely unphased by what I feel is imminent danger as he watches dubbed American movies on his phone.

Just before landing, the air hostess gives out landing cards - in Arabic.  I ask her if she has any English ones but she shrugs and says I should ask the man sitting next to me to help.  He is not too forthcoming though and struggles to translate some of the information needed like expiry date of passport.  When I am finished filling in my card, the man across from me, who is from Malawi, asks if he can borrow my card and he then passes it to a woman in the seat behind who is from Togo.  I really hope all the information is correct!

I often wonder at people who get out of their seats before the plane has stopped.  They are always impatient and seem to think that they will get off first, even though we will all end up in the baggage claim, waiting for suitcases and bags.  However, I have never seen impatience like this in my life. As soon as the wheels touch the tarmac, at least a third of the passengers spring up and take their bags down, even though the plane is still going quite fast along the runway.  They rush to the door and I wouldn't be surprised if they did not try to open it and jump out.  All attempts of the air hostess to get the passengers to return to their seats are in vain.

I am again asked about a yellow fever card and once again say that I was not aware I needed and so am waved through.  It is a relief to see someone waiting for me with my name on a sign.  He introduces himself as Abdul and takes me to buy a visa and go through customs.  We then go to fetch my suitcase.  It takes so long I begin to doubt it made the change over in Addis, but it does eventually appear.  Abdul ushers me into a taxi and we head for the hotel.  It is two o'cock in the morning.  I am cold and tired but glad to be on terra firma. I am finally in Egypt.