Burkina Faso With The Browning Maxus

I don’t know about you, but certain smells act like memory triggers to me and three that brings back possibly the most exciting and enjoyable hunting trip I have ever been on are; burning scrub from the slash & burn farming method of the small holders in Burkina Faso, petrol and vehicle exhausts. The trip was organised by Browning to launch their new Maxus, semi-auto shotgun. I’m no shotgunner, but the chance to go to Africa again, even after birds, was not to be missed.

GERMANY BY COMPARISON

As it happens I found the bird shooting on doves and francolin great fun, once I got my eye in! But the real pleasure was just being there and adapting to a country whose ways are not our own. My Russian friend who is the editor of Kalashnikov shooting magazine, a sprightly old boy of 70+ pretty much summed it up: “Peter, this is real Africa, South Africa and Namibia are Germany by comparison.” He was cock on with that one too.

The trip started at Charles de Gaulle (CDG) airport in Paris, where I had to leave the 10-rounds of, ‘just in case’, 12-gauge rifled slug I took with me should I meet anything larger than a bird in the bush… As it was over our ammo allowance, which as I discovered was pretty generous given the amount we turned up with. This along with I think 15, cased Maxus guns in all finishes.

Burkina Faso, well I had to look it up on the map and found it was in West Africa about half way up on the left. I also required a few serious inoculations from the local diseases along with a 6-week course of generic anti-malaria/infection tablets, which was two weeks before, while I was there and three weeks after. So with my passport bulging with immunisation certificates and my visa stamped I was ready to go. Kit-wise I took light cotton clothing, a hat and decent hi-leg boots. Also got a pair of cool Oakley King’s camo sun glasses with prescription lenses in a sort of dark magenta, which I was assured, would be just the thing for shooting into the light. Which proved to be the case!

BORED BUT NOT FOR LONG

I hate flying as it’s so boring, but the rest of Ouagadougou (capital of Burkina Faso) airport was like something out of an adventure novel. We landed at 21.00 and the temperature was 30° so a tad warm. As we got off the plane the first smell that hit me was of car exhausts, which proved to be a feature of the city.

Arrivals was a massive wooden shed packed with humanity with slow moving fans in the roof that more pushed the hot air around than cooled it. It then struck me we were on the edge of nowhere and if anything went wrong it would not be a case of popping on the next plane out! There were seven lines and I got in one as it slowly moved forward. The hard eyed customs officer checked my passport and stamped it, as I went to go out of the exit I found it was locked as were all the others so had to fight my way through the crowds and duck under a counter to get to baggage reclaim.

FARCE

Well if Arrivals had been sombre then Baggage Claim was a riot with all the madness of a comedy farce, you could just imagine Basil Fawlty trying to bring order to chaos. It was heaving with people and the tiny carousal kept breaking down, leaving a massive pile of luggage that arriving Burkinians were literally throwing themselves at and then chucking aside to find their gear.

Back at CDG I had seen someone wheeling a massive TV to the check out desk and thought good luck with that mate! Only to see him again at arrivals – now that’s what I call dedication! Seriously I was having a great time already and would not have missed this slice of alternative life for the world!

It took us two hours to secure all the luggage, guns and ammo, aided by the arrival of the French PH and his native crew. We pushed the trollies up to the exit only to find it was the width of a small door, so had to unload all the guns and walk them through! Outside, well more madness as we were set on by hordes of hawkers and beggars – buy these carved elephants boss, cigarettes, whisky very cheap, women if you want… I was calmly rolling a cigarette when someone asked me if I wanted to buy some hash and seemed most offended when I declined…

CONVOY

In the end the PH crew steamed in and started rousting these enterprising salesmen. I recall one of them, a big and powerful guy, picking up a cigarette trader by his neck and slamming him against a wall to make the point. All the time grinning a massive and deadly smile that did not reach his eyes.

I had read that at night it’s not always safe to travel due to bandits and wisely Browning had arranged an armed escort of Gendarmes and when I say armed I mean it! We were packed into two mini buses with three large 4x4s full of coppers running point and tail. Guns included AK47s, PK medium machine guns and at least one RPG7.

Moving out of Ouagadougou was a relief as it smells awful and the drivers are near suicidal. We got on what I assume must have been the main route, whose tarmac ran out after about 6-miles and turned into a dirt road, which we were on for about three hours. You can’t go fast either due to massive pot holes.

BOTTLES GALORE

One indelible memory I do have is of the convoy stopping in a tiny shanty town after a couple of hours and Till Cussman (Browning PR rep) asking if we would like a beer? We agreed and a copper got hold of a boy and dispatched him to a local bar, judging by the music coming out of it. He duly returned with two crates. The local brew as I was to discover bore no resemblance to the plethora of different bottles it came in – Heineken, Carlsberg, Orangiboom, Becks, you name it every manufacturer was represented but only on the outside of the container!

So there we were at 01.00 in the morning in West Africa surrounded by armed police and all of us drinking local beer and it was good too. I was a bit concerned about how clean the brew was then it occurred to me I was on tablets for just this sort of eventually and having the most amazing time without yet firing a shot. So when in Rome!

Finishing off our multi-cultural beer we got back into the trucks and the convoy started on the most dangerous leg of the journey the highway from the capital Ouagadougou to the hunting lodge. Even our escorting gendarmes seemed more alert! The road alternated between flat, hard- packed dirt and gaping pot holes. This put the average speed to around 30 MPH, that and the fact that the traffic - mainly bikes and mopeds - did not seem to consider lights important…

NO SLEEP TILL BROOKLYN

The running time to the lodge was meant to be about three hours, but this being real Africa you could pretty much double it. It’s not about the distance but the speed you can travel! We finally arrived at the gendarme post where we dropped of our escort, then spent two more hours on a rutted dirt track getting to the lodge by about 04.00. Climbing down stiff and tired we met the French PH and were told we would be up by 05.30 and out by six for the first days hunting. Just time to get some food and grab less than an hour’s kip. Ah the joys of firearms journalism!

We got up and were told to grab a Maxus and were given a quick run-down of how they worked. Nice gun, but a bit different, as unlike every other modern pump or auto I have used there’s no magazine end cap. Instead the forend is held on by a latch, which gives a different look and means there is no way of upping capacity. Browning also decided to resurrect their magazine cut-off and speed load systems from their classic Auto-5 semi. As opposed to dropping the shell into the action and closing the bolt, all you do is feed the first round into the magazine, where it’s automatically chambered. A most useful feature.

I’ll continue next month with the hunting and a lot more – never forget TIA!