Unlike Ziguinchor, Bissau has changed a lot since I was last here during the 2005 elections. The town has smart new restaurants, and some not so smart, and the roads are filled with 4x4s and whites. Dinner anywhere will be taken between two tables of people you know; it has become an NGO playground.

But it is carnival, and Guineans know how to celebrate it with full energy.



Riding on top a carnival float, the city streets below churned with bodies. Kids and adults fought eachother for the balloons and pens being thrown from the trucks, and the police- violent, Angolan-trained men- ran alongside the truck beating people with sticks and the buckles of belts. Even the girls being trampled under a stampede of feet seemed to see it as a game. At one point, someone threw a plastic water bottle and it rolled under the truck. There was a screeching as a group of children dived under the massive wheels to get it and the truck was forced to stop. The band stopped playing, but the bottle was retrieved and the truck moved on.



My favourite band from Senegal is here, Pierre and his brothers. They let us ride on top the carnival float as we danced through the dusty streets of Bissau. They are still as good as they ever were, and I still dream of making it happen with them. Pierre has a new line in his repertoire when calling out people's names in song: "the journalists are here". I, of course, am chuffed.