From July 15

Sitting in a little guesthouse in a truck stop, listening to a Nigerian movie playing on the tv across the yard, and praying that I don’t get malaria since there’s not a way to string up a mossy net in my room!

Highlights of the day:

• Section of road where there were more footprints than tire prints! And this is a major “highway” through this country!
• Driver is a tank driver on his holidays from the army! You’d think that might make for a crazy driver, but he’s actually one of the most reasonable, safest drivers I’ve been with in this country. He asked Moses if he wanted him to bring his gun with us (probably a semi-automatic something or other – AK47 or Kalishnokov). Moses declined the offer.
• I was a little frightened when we got picked up from the house, then drove around town, arguing where to buy jerry cans for extra fuel. Don’t think much prep- was done to get the car ready for the drive. But so far, so good. I just pray it stays that way!
• At one pit stop, Elizabeth was too lazy to walk into the bush, so she just squatted behind the Landcruiser, assuming that none of the guys we were travelling with would walk around the car. When there are no toilets or bathrooms for miles around, we have taken to using Moses’ phrase of “pass urine”. Ain’t no dancing around the issue for us. We just tell the driver to stop because we want to “pass urine”!
• There are so few people in this country! You drive for miles and miles and miles, not seeing any villages, any buildings, any animals… and then, suddenly, you’ll come around a corner and see a 10 year old girl with a huge jerry can of water on her head, walking down the road. Where did she come from? Where is she going? Haven’t a clue. But the fact that children can walk down seemingly deserted roads on their own shows that it’s a pretty safe place. On the other hand, the fact that, on a school day, a 10 year old girl is walked down the road carrying 20 litres of water on her head also shows something.
• Why is it that African drivers everywhere listen to reggae? I can’t count the number of road trips I’ve been on on this continent, cruising through the bush to the sounds of Bob Marley and other assorted “wanna-bes”. I must admit, the more bad reggae I have to listen to, the more I appreciate the good old fashioned classic Bob.