One needs to look at the background of this helicopter to understand what was at stake. The Mi-8P is the passenger version of the MI-8T, a first generation model of the Mi-8 helicopter. Their TB2-117 engines use relatively antiquated technology compared to those installed on today’s choppers. They produce only 1,500SHP compared to the 2,200SHP produced by the TB3-117VM engines on the newer generation Mi-8MTV.

Put another way, the ‘P’ model has a MAUW of 12,000kg compared to the 13,000kg of the MTV. The MTV is quite capable of operating with a full load in ‘hot and high’ conditions, whereas the ‘P’ model is a bitch to fly in those conditions and even thinking of touching the collective causes the main rotor revs to drop. In other words, to use a phrase first used by one of my American aviator friends, it is a machine that any pilot has to have his arm out of his arsehole to fly without killing himself and crew.

I was also aware that the helicopter in which I’d be flying the president of Tanzania around is what some experienced airmen would regard as unforgiving. As the pilot at the controls, I wouldn’t be able to relax for a moment if I wanted to stay alive. Even tail rotor effectiveness is far less than the MTV. The bottom line, then, is quite simple: in hot and high conditions, the ‘P’ model is challenging to fly. However, because I had quite a lot of experience flying the same helicopter while fighting fires in South Africa, I was not too concerned. What did surprise me, though, was that Titan should have chosen this decrepit old bird to fly the head of state of an African nation about on duties that would take him to some of the remotest places on the continent.

In late August 2010, I landed at the Julius Nyerere International Airport in Dar es Salaam in the late afternoon after a relatively short flight from Dubai. Despite the humidity and sweltering heat, I was pleased to be back in Africa. Almost immediately I could feel the excitement and the buzz of an African people going about their business and I felt as though I had arrived home.

After spending the night in the Movenpick Hotel, I was flown in a small, twin-engine Cessna to Kigoma, a medium-sized town on Lake Tanganyika in the far west of the country. It was here that Sir Henry Morton Stanley crossed the great lake on his epic journey down the Congo River to the west coast of Africa in the 19th century.

Because we took off late, we arrived at Kigoma well behind schedule. I was met by Louis Venter, the Titan chief pilot, who had ferried the helicopter from South Africa for the contract and had flown the first week in the south of Tanzania. He briefed me on some of the problems they were having with the helicopter, and his parting words to me were something like, ‘good luck … you’re a better man than I am to carry on flying this piece of shit’.

He added that he had found the dust on landings a real challenge and that he was happy to be leaving. Venter also mentioned that the helicopter had been grounded because engine oil was flowing through a seal into the gearbox. In a nutshell, that caused the low pressure oil light to illuminate and the oil in the gearbox to overheat. This was a problem the helicopter had experienced for the last couple of years that nobody had bothered to fix.

I was familiar with the old chopper and knew how to deal with such issues, so I wasn’t too fazed. All that was required of me, apart from flying the beast, was to carefully monitor the oil in the engine and gearbox. This meant using a large metal syringe to suck out oil from the main rotor gearbox and then using the same oil to top up the engine oil. The engineers actually wanted to replace the engine, but I convinced them that we’d managed quite well for several years and that I knew what was needed. Replacing the engine would have taken time and put the electoral schedule out. The next day we ferried the Hip to Dar es Salaam and linked up with the rest of the team.

All three helicopters had been chartered by a South African mining company to fly the president and his electioneers around the country, obviously at a price. We gathered that the gesture was in return for mining or mineral concessions of some sort or another and that there was obviously a lot of cash involved. Contractually, we were allowed to fly 60 hours per month. If we exceeded that basic contractual allowance of 120 hours for the two month period, including ferrying the choppers to and from South Africa, the government would compensate. The contractor was thoroughly professional and we were well treated during our eight-week East African sojourn.

All our food, accommodation, transport to hotels and elsewhere, internet and the rest, was covered. All we needed to bring to the party was cash for beer.