9th February 1986 : Disaster & Delight

Woke in the dark to flashing torchlight that seemed to come from Hawke’s tent, and then from the end of the truck. But, maybe because I was half-asleep, or I refused to believe this could be anything out of the ordinary, I didn't act on my sense of disquiet, instead lying back down in the truck and falling asleep. Next thing I became aware of feeling cold, and I lay there wondering whether to brave the mozzie-infested truck to get my sleeping bag or stay put. I made a commando leap out of and back under the net with sleeping bag in hand and next thing I knew there was pandemonium, as Jim returned to the truck with my sunglasses and a handful of Per’s letters that he'd found in the grass where he’d gone to pee. His discovery led to a worse one: three daypacks (containing 5 cameras, two of them mine!) were missing, as was the truck cutlery box. 

Couldn’t believe the stealth and skill and balls of the thieves. They had climbed over the locked gate at the back of the truck, walked the length of the creaking floorboards while several of us slept on board and picked up three packs and Ben’s ghetto blaster before retiring from the truck and picking up our cutlery box. I was furious about my loss but also felt a twinge of admiration for a job well done.

Sat up for the first truck guard with Hawk, squatting in the dark, torch in hand, mozzies in killer numbers, hoping to catch the thieves returning for more. They didn't, and I eventually crawled under Hawk’s net with a couple of accompanying bugs that proceeded to feast on us both.

Finally, in dawn light, we trudged around camp searching for packs and camera bags but found none. The only return I got was my new roll of toilet paper! Gone were my Olympus point-and-shoot, my Olympus OM 20 with a film at 10 shots, so I've lost my first shots of Zaire and mud bog - Vicki and Per’s films were at shots 33 and 36 - zoom lens. three rolls of unused film, my hairbrush, toothpaste, toothbrush, dental floss, my Agadez cross and ring that Kel gave me for Christmas, a tube of Bonjelo and another of Vasoline: a slightly different list from the one I will present when we report the theft to the Kisangani police for my insurance claim. 

The theft victims were on a strange high for a while, making jokes about it because no alternative reaction would change the situation.

Climbed into the crow’s nest for some aerial reconnaissance as we drove on, the sky overcast again but the clouds higher than those that produced yesterday's downpour. Passed through several tiny villages, disinclined to wave and wondering where the culprits lived. Jim generously offered to lend me his Minox camera until we reach Johannesburg and I suddenly felt quite philosophical about the whole thing, although I did go over and over in my head all the what ifs.

Arrived at a ferry crossing on a narrow river which became rapids a few yards below us. Both banks were crowded with women selling deep-fried plantain and other foods to the waiting truck drivers; Ton was our only taker. Very quick crossing and we drove off the ferry onto another red-ribbon road.

More butterflies, clusters of mostly brown broken with flashes of yellow and blue embroidering the many puddles we drove over; and long stretches of villages with immaculately swept dirt yards and occasional plots of coarse lawn. Some villages appeared to top mounds of dirt, with odd huts perched seemingly precariously at unlikely angles. Saw more and more mounds, often inhabited by the local goat population; dogs, pigs (two nose-deep in a mud pit), chooks, ducks and even one domestic cat, very white against the red dirt. We saw many beautiful small woven baskets in the villages and women carrying metre-long black baskets loaded with bananas or plantains.

Lunched on deep-fried plantains and puffballs in Gemena, where we bought some aluminium spoons so we have something to eat with until we can find more cutlery. Wondered at Gary and Linda requesting Adri’s help with French prices after all this time. Keen to buy pineapples as we drove on but Ben was concentrating so hard on the road that he missed the first two buzzer blasts (we had buzzer communication from the back of the truck to the cab, with different numbers of buzzes meaning stop immediately, stop when you can, please find somewhere for a toilet break). Finally, Adri bought a beauty for 25 Zaire (about A$0.75).

I felt a bit down as we drove on into the afternoon, but the wonderful scenery lifted my mood and smiles from the people we passed had me waving even when I just wanted to look out. Late afternoon sun gilded the tops of fluffy reeds and palms against the sky and taller tropical trees. The roadside greenery became so thick that our view from the back of the track was soon limited to leaves and road with only occasional glimpses of sky. We passed many stands of palms (perhaps harvested for their oil) and breathed in the delicious smell of roasting coffee beans.

No gravel pits all day so camped in a tiny semi-cleared area floored with tough vines that quickly insinuated their way into everything. As we pulled in an audience started to gather, prompting groans from those of us who don't enjoy being surrounded by and performing to a mass of faces. I bought a beautiful, seeded dance skirt from a young girl - she performed a shuffling dance and short singsong at my request to demonstrate how she wore my new souvenir at fares and festivals - and then watched the changing expressions in their eyes and faces as they watched our dinner preparations.

I was cross with people going on about seeing people with knives behind huts and Jim’s defence that the armed visitors had just been peeling mangoes fell on deaf ears. Being robbed has changed the attitudes of many onboard to mistrust, racism and prejudice, as Kel feared. I've learnt my lesson and won't leave temptation in their way but am defending the non-thieving majority from being lumped with the stealing minority by travelling companions I thought had more sense. 

Despite the theft, I love our camps with locals and it's one of the joys of this trip for me. Interacting with local people is one of the reasons I travel. And yet I cannot remember any camp where we drew a local audience without somebody onboard complaining. Waving in greeting during the day but then retreating and cutting ourselves off at night is not my idea of an African adventure.

Firelight illuminated the golden smiling faces of the sixty people who watched us. Adri offered a piece of pineapple to a young girl cradling a tiny weeks-old baby and she chewed it to soften it for the infant’s gummy munching. The flash of our cameras produced shocked hysteria, but they ended up posing with feet in the air and huge toothy grins.

Our campsite is an amazing open archway in a tangle of trees and vines that backs onto a coffee plantation where Vicki, Adri and I got some beans. Barely room for Stanley and the tents, let alone our audience, who eventually left when Nikki bid them au revoir and bon nuit.