Head Game

When I last left off, the situation was looking up. We'd just gotten out of the Ivory Coast, which was trying to pull a Hotel California by letting us check out but not letting us leave. But after a lot of driving and some hastily purchased plane tickets, we were able to fly into Monrovia, Liberia. It's a country founded by the former slaves that America shipped back to Africa in the early 19th century, which explains a lot of the names ("Monrovia," for example, comes from President James "Monroe". Now, Liberia's had a pretty rough go of it recently. Ebola has hit the country pretty hard, but it's gone now. The only remains of it visible now are the warning billboards everywhere and the fact that everyone asks you to wash your hands.
In Liberia we stayed in the lap of luxury in an awesome hotel. It gave me some much needed R and R, as well as a nice uninterrupted space of time to write this comic.

The rest of the time, I lounged around in a complimentary bathrobe.

Then afterwards, we crossed into Sierra Leone, which didn't get around to rebuilding the roads after the civil war blew them to bits a decade ago. So that was another rough go as we journeyed through the night through swampy, pothole-filled trails to the capital of Freetown. Now I'm here! Check out the latest comic, tell me what you think!

Escape from the Côte d'Ivoire

It's ironic that the subject of this comic is getting through police checkpoints and dealing with corrupt, bribe-hungry officials, because I wrote it earlier this week, before the worst trouble hit.
We've been traveling through the Ivory Coast the last few days, and we'd already hit a few snags. Our guide company hadn't arranged our new driver, we'd been vastly misinformed (to the tune of several hours) on the distance of several locations we were traveling to, but overall we were doing all right. We were planning on heading out of the Côte d'Ivoire to Liberia to continue our journey. However, our driver Remus wouldn't be able to come with us since his car only had registration for Ghana and Côte d'Ivoire, not Liberia. Through him, we arranged with a local driver to cram into the back of his Jeep so we could cross the border with him. We had gone barely 10 minutes when the first trouble hit.
We were stopped by a group of police officers who told us the border was closed... unless we could get them a little bit of cash. Without our usual driver (who could talk his way out of these things pretty well) we had no choice but to fork it over or be stymied there. We got to the border with dusk approaching and ominous storm clouds in the distance (complete with forked lightning). And then we just got stopped. The border guys didn't like us. We found out later that they had a particular aversion to Americans because other journalists had apparently published some less-than-flattering stuff about Liberia last time they crossed the border. Anyways, by trying to bargain for a smaller bribe than they wanted (because by this time, our cash was getting low) they ended up red listing our names so there was no way we could cross. It didn't even matter how much we flirted with the border guards, no amount of batting our eyes was going to get us across. (This border was a large stick, propped up so it blocked the road.) Anyways, there we were. It was dark. The way out of the Côte d'Ivoire was now blocked. We had minimal cash and a driver whose loyalty to us was directly linked by that supply. Things were looking a little grim.
Then, we had a miracle! Our driver's cell phone rang. It was Remus, our old driver from Ghana. Rather than head immediately home, he had driven to a neighboring city (which, to the best of our knowledge, was unfortunately pronounced "Gigolo") and gotten worried about us. He decided to make sure we'd made it out. We were able to arrange to stay in a seedy hotel in Gigolo and drive back with Remus to the capital of Abidjan the next day. From there, we arranged a flight to get us out of the Ivory Coast and on our way to Monrovia, Liberia.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, when you read this comic, understand that I meant every word I wrote. Fixers are important– they can mean the difference between life and death. Or at least, between being stuck in or escaping the Côte d'Ivoire.

A Photoblog Post

It's been longer than anticipated since I've been able to update the travel blog, and everything has changed! Well, not everything, but a fair amount. Right now, I'm sitting in a hotel next to the airport in Abidjan, in the Ivory Coast. I've had some serious adventures in the past few days here in the Côte d'Ivoire, but I'm going to save that story for my next post, once we actually leave the country. Just for caution's sake. 

So this post will just kind of bring things up to speed using some photos I've taken during the trip.

Here's the crew:

Anna Newell, interviewing a local politician about child slavery.

Lasse Illskov, producer of a Danish television network and resident director on set.

Ann Neilson, the brains of the whole operation (and my grandmother).

Grace Rune, who's kind of the heart of the group.

Then, of course, there's me.

Isaac Wright, resident cameraman.

We've been traveling along the west coast of Africa, and over the past week we've logged a lot of miles. It's been an absolutely fantastic experience meeting and engaging with so many absolutely wonderful people in the course of filming this documentary.

David, our guide through Nigeria and Benin and a funny, wild, genuinely good-hearted guy.

Remus, our longsuffering driver through Ghana and the Ivory Coast. Patient, kind, and a family man!

We also met just a lot of friendly African folks. I don't think I've met a more happy people. Despite their often indigent circumstances, their is a joy in their everyday interactions that is truly sincere.

This little kid ran right up to Ann and gave her a huge hug. Didn't know her at all, just hugged her

Another wonderful group of kids from Jamestown, Ghana 

She was quite anxious to get in the picture.

I really like the way this photo turned out. This guy had a lot of fun for this one.  

A pious Muslim fellow was anxious to show us the local mosque in the remote Ghanian village of Krachi. 

This kid had an enormous smile when he asked me to take his picture but suddenly became shy when I pulled out the camera. Stage fright, I guess.

The most impactful experience I've had thus far has been coming to the fishing village of Krachi, Ghana, a 7 hour drive into the underbrush from the Ghanian capital of Accra. While the small town has a quiet, placid feel to it, the truth is that many of the young boys we see fishing on the boats in the mornings and evenings are there against their will, kept in poor conditions and not allowed to go to school. The majority of these children come from small faraway villages. Their parents often pay money to send their kids away for an education only for these children to never receive such an opportunity. Instead, they're whisked away and forced into work that is both involuntary and dangerous.

Several of the rescued boys pose for a photo. 

Fortunately, a local group called Pacodep (and several larger, international ones) has begun rescuing many of these children (ranging from 6 to 17 year olds, and including both boys and girls) from their labors along Lake Volta. They are given adequate facilities, meals, and schooling at Village of Life Academy in Kete Krachi. We conducted several interviews at the school and were really impressed by the hope that these kids showed for the future, despite what they had already gone through.

Another group picture (with one girl looking on).

Posing for the camera!

They were very sorry to see us go. To be honest, the feeling was mutual.

If you want to help out Pacodep (and can stand a poor user interface) check out their website HERE. 

That's all for now. This trip has been absolutely fantastic so far. A little rough patch in the Ivory Coast just recently but, well, that story is going to have to be told once I leave the Ivory Coast. Stay tuned!

FF8- Nigerian Drift

We're leaving Nigeria today, heading west to Benin and Togo. One thing that has certainly made an impression has been the way people drive here. If they're looking to make a new Fast and Furious movie, they wouldn't even have to hire actors if they filmed in Nigeria. (The Furious 8? Fast and Furious: Nigerian Drift?) Anyways, it's been on my mind. Here's a comic about it.

Not a Nigerian email scam

Every place has a smell. Santa Barbara has kind of a salty, oceany hint to the air. Pennsylvania had a fresh, green scent of unspoiled nature. Pittsburgh (the city) smelled like cat pee and vinegar. So far, Lagos, Nigeria smells like sweat and motor oil.

Made it safely!

It's so humid here! That's the first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane last night. It's a solid 90 degrees and it feels like a thunderstorm is imminent. Just standing around leaves you in a hot sweat.

Tour guy was a little late snapping this pic. I'd already moved on

Cool voodoo statue. Check out all the nails!

Today we didn't do any filming, we just got to know the city. We drove around with two Nigerian guys who were extremely energetic. They would whoop and holler as they saw other cabbies they knew, slamming on the gas and brakes and swerving wildly to navigate the sea of Lagos traffic. One thing that I think everyone noticed is how openly religious people are here. Bumper stickers, billboards, even sailing vessels (we passed a ship called the King Jesus) reveal a very public Christian people. Contrasted to the United States, where I feel like many people hold their faith close to their chests for fear of offending someone, this is a fascinating difference.

It's even on their buses #forthepeople

We visited several museums today which were fairly interesting, but the best part was when our tour guides excitedly led us to a famous shrine deep in the city. I was a little unclear what to expect, but it was basically a small alcove dedicated to this singer who had performed at the stage across from the shrine. He was a Nigerian talent, and, our tour guides explained, his mother was the first woman in Nigeria to drive a car. (This is apparently a very noteworthy achievement.) I was a little underwhelmed but they were so happy about this place that I assume it was a very big deal. We met some fairly interesting individuals there, to say the least. We were invited back for a big dance party next Thursday night. 

An interesting sign near the shrine

Here's the shrine. That orange thing is the singer's dad's shirt.

This guys was napping near the shrine. Photo credit to Lasse Illskov

We won't be able to make it, unfortunately. Such is the life of the busy documentarian. Until next time!

Off to Africa (or, why my summer break was cooler than yours)

I always thought the country was called Gambia,
but apparently it's "The Gambia" to you

Welcome back to the blog. We've had a nice leave of absence but I'm figuring now that I'm out and about again, the blog could use a resurgence anyhow. In any case, I'm sure most people would like to hear about Africa rather than Provo.
I'm heading to Africa, if you haven't heard! I'll be gone for a little over 3 weeks and we are trekking through 12 different countries. My grandmother, Ann, is an avid human rights activist / relentless world traveler, and she is spearheading a documentary focusing on juxtaposing ancient and modern-day slavery. I'll be working as cameraman, and hopefully updating this blog from time to time. Check back for hotel reviews, savvy insights, biting social commentary, pictures, and maybe even some comics, dare I say? This should be great!

My first (of many) photos from the trip.
Shameless plug to follow me on Instagram 
with #outofafrica2k16, @isaacbing !

I got picked up from the train station last night (Saturday) by my grandfather Bing. After buying some El Pollo Loco, smoke began billowing out of the hood of his BMW. Turns out the coolant was out, probably because of some sort of hole, so the car was undriveable. Mormor (my grandmother, aka Ann) had to pick us up. It was an interesting experience, usually I don't experience travel difficulties until I'm at the airport.

That being said, we had a fairly smooth flight. Royal Dutch Airlines even provides mostly edible dinner and breakfast, so that was a nice plus. Currently I'm chilling in Amsterdam, allowing my legs to expand from their compacted airplane travel shape. More to come! Especially more pictures!

Oh yeah, my grandmother is always difficult to get a straight itinerary out of, but here's the schedule she dictated to me, more or less.

Arrive Monday may 2 in Lagos, Nigeria. Evening. 

Staying at the ibis hotel. 

May 3. City tour with arranged driver. Afternoon drive to badagri, staying in fams embassy suites. 

May the 4th. Interview with women's consortium of Nigeria. Tour the old-time slave relics. 

May 6. Drive to Benin. Meet tour guide for the week. Staying at the *hotel I can't spell or pronounce* 

Visit other old slave relics, museums. May 7. Drive through Togo. Go to Ghana. Check into the afia African village (a hotel). 

May 8. Go to church. Pick up grace form airport. Visit several museums in the area. Visit other sites in Accra. 

May 9. Long drive to the lake, assorted fishing villages. Spend night in village. 

May 10. Explore the fishing industry. Boy slave trade(?) drive back to Accra, Ghana. 

May 11. Drive along the coast. Stop at Elina slave castle. Cross border into Ivory Coast. Spend night in the capital city. 

May 12. Drive to a national park. Sightsee!!! 

May 13. Bus into Libera capital. 

May 14????

May 15. Arrive in Sierra Leone. Boat cruise to an island with a lot of slave relics. Dundee island?

May 16. Assorted other things in Sierra Leone. (This day is fluid because we may be lagging behind our schedule by this point.)

May 17. Fly over Guinea and Guinea Bissau. (Because they're scumholes). Land in Gambia. 

May 18. Meeting with Jacob Illskov's contact, has a bunch of connections. 

May 19. Arrive in Senegal. Meet up with driver. Few days here. Interviews with child beggars. (Schedule is a bit hazy here unfortunately, though I wil try to clarify as we approach this point.)

Mauritania. Interviews with former slaves. 

May 25. Fly out of Mauritania. Arrive in Paris. 

May 26. Home from Paris with love!

The Farce Awakens

It's a secret fact (well, maybe not so secret) that I am a big Star Wars fan. I've seen the movies countless times, read the novelizations and all the backstories, and bought the Lego sets. I blame good parenting.

That's a young me as Darth Vader. And my brother as a Lego brick.

So unless you've been stuck on a rock far away from the bright center of the universe, you know that Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out December 18th. Fans across the world were simultaneously giddy with anticipation while nauseous with fear for the much anticipated sequel. Was it going to be something fit for the trash compactor? Or worthy of thunderous applause?
Well, I saw it last night. It was pretty dang good. It hit all the right nostalgic notes and avoided the cluttery CGI trap house of practically every movie we saw in the trailers before. It has plucky droids on important missions, alien desert planets, unlikely orphan heroes, giant evil superweapons, and- well, let's just say there was a lot of homages to A New Hope. Which isn't a bad thing, incidentally.
Basically, like any great fan, I set out to watch all the movies beforehand, but like any great college student, I was snarled in finals last week. Upon finishing (on Tuesday) I still hadn't sat down and watched any. But I decided to do a dumb thing and watch them all before Thursday. This is more or less my experience.

I think my roommates were kind of annoyed I had finished finals and was enjoying myself before they could.

Worth it? Yes. Would I do it again? I'd rather kiss a Wookie.

What'd you think of The Force Awakens? Let me know in the comments below!