Zaire rained on our breakfast, so we rushed around trying to finish scrambled eggs and help everybody keep or get. Our audience ringed us, sheltering under trees and with huge palm fronds held above their heads. We swapped some of our empty tins for pawpaws, a giant Nido tin opening their eyes with delight and getting us three fruits. Then, as we pulled away, they threw more fruit into the back of the truck in thanks, so we threw a working biro back and waved goodbye.
With the side walls down, the view out of the back of the truck was like watching a video: the road running with rivulets and rivers of brown water, the sky purplish blue against the lush greenery. We stopped for photos at a rubber plantation and picked stringy pieces of fish-smelling white rubber out of the black rubber cups at the bottom of the spiral groove cut into each tree trunk. The trees formed cathedral arches in the long-planted rows and the quiet reminded me strangely of Westminster Abbey.
Our arrival at the ferry port started an extraordinary few hours. Wandered through the market and past a drove of pigs were snuffling through a central swamp. Bought a huge piece of plantain fresh out of the hot oil, which provided energy for the next craziness: bailing out the ferry's bilge so we could cross. There were five openings in the deck of the water-filled and truly sunk vessel, so three of our crew clambered inside and we set up a bucket chain to refloat it - watched by locals and the ferry men. Sloshing water over the side. Jim Ben and I worked our hole till the bilge was only inches deep in water, albeit brown with debris and shiny with oil. It was hard work and my knees where rubbery from the repetitive up and down when we finished.
Nikki told us that she had to do the same thing on a previous trip. We wondered whether the local populace don't use the ferry until some white travellers crazy enough to bail it out come along, and then they operate it until it sinks again.
Having done the hard work, we stood around watching pirogues (narrow boats) loaded with 44-gallon drums slide into the bank and men rolling the drums up the bank. Islands of lilies floated down river past timber villages on both banks.
The ferry finally afloat, we drove aboard and made a rapid crossing, despite getting briefly beached on a sand bar. Back on land, we spent about 20 minutes driving around in circles and then stationary with the engine off while Ben did some minor truck maintenance.
Mid-morning we stopped at a huge village mud and wood church with green jungle visible through the open-backed altar and a huge open-topped drum out the front hung with clothes. A group of old men and women, one of whom was smoking a plastic pipe and exhaling huge blasts of grey smoke, welcomed us warmly as we wandered around.
We stopped for lunch and water beside a pool reflecting the greenery around it and running under the road into the jungle on the other side. The jungle here was thick with fluttering butterflies, white and lemon, with occasional splashes of orange, blue, black and green, and a big chestnut one that we spent ages trying to photograph. Walking on with Jim after lunch we saw some chocolate and yellow, and black and yellow ones. We stopped again for wood in a felled area where Geoff tried unsuccessfully to kill me whilst tossing the caber. And again to clear bamboo on the road.
We drove through wonderful scenery in late afternoon sun, the canopy close to the road and trees and bamboo often arching right over the truck forming a lush tunnel. Here huge trees almost hid the various palms so, sometimes said, it looked more like a drive in the British countryside.
Pulled off onto pristinely brushed soft sand in front of three small huts and an open-air shelter roofed with palm fronds. Kel apologised to the owner for churning up his front yard, but he warmly welcomed us to camp, telling us we’d be safe here. He joined us round the fire and his 17 children brought out armchairs for those of us lacking something to lean on. Kel chatted with him and his wives for ages and the lovely man told us he would stay up and guard us tonight, presumably not against his own family but others that might come looking for things to steal.
This lovely man's warm welcome eased the tensions of two nights ago and we relaxed again as sunset splashed colour across the sky above the palms and the jungle buzzed with insects.
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