Keita and I have just survived four hair-raising days ferried about in the pestilential fumes of Cotonou on zemijeans, not by choice but by necessity- there are virtually no normal taxis. Instead thousands of yellow-shirted motorcyclists are hurling themselves about at a hundred miles an hour, swarming down the boulevards narrowly avoiding each other; the juggernauts; the sudden deep chasms and uncovered man-holes which no-one has bothered to cover. White water rafting down the Niagara falls? Swimming with Sharks? Bungy jumping down the Eiffel Tower? Try the Cotonou Zemijeans. Keita looks angry in the pic above- it is because I am turning around on my zemijean, taking a picture- he’s just shouted: put your camera away and hold on for God’s sake!