Woke to the sound of the yard being swept and got out of my bag to find our lovely landlord had done what he said and stayed up all night to guard us. A threatening grey sky hung over our breakfast and “studio” shots of our family man before we churned back through his yard and waved enthusiastic goodbyes.
The threatening rain didn’t eventuate, and I got a marked sarong sun line sitting in the crows' nest.
On arriving at the river town of Lisala we learned that our "cruise" boat had left Monday morning and the next departure wasn't until the weekend. It's 150km to Bumba from where the boat is due to sail tonight at 6-7PM. So we drove on, with stunning views of the vast Congo/Zaire River, a massive glowing expanse of water meandering towards the Zaire capital, Kinshasa, its great width dotted with lily islands and pirogues.
We stopped before lunch when we saw a woman carrying a baby crocodile whose jaws were bound with a stick and twine. Everyone piled out of Stanley for photos of the barely breathing reptile, some of us grimacing in distaste at its feel and smell. The woman tried to sell the croc to us to eat but we declined her offer.
We stopped again, for lunch, in a sandy driveway. Villages brought out all their chairs for us to sit on, and their pigs meandered through the garden and our lunching circle devouring our refuse as we ate. Invited to look into two huts, we saw wood and twine bunk beds with heavy sacking mozzie nets and kitchen areas full of pots and intricate weavings. One contained a calendar drawn on wood with charcoal and chalk and the 11th February crossed off. An old woman with a big basket load of wood on her head passed us.
In the afternoon we passed beautiful mauve and white flowering trees (new to us), frangipanis, and great bursts of red and pink bougainvillea.
We passed several villages that appeared to be in the midst of some king of celebration, with groups of children with faces and legs painted with black symbols and dressed in feathers and handkerchiefs. Noticed another change in hut design this afternoon, with more and more roofs of palm fronds rather than thatch.
We drove late, my arm tiring with waving, and every other part of me aching from yesterday’s ferry bailing. Day-dreamed of a hot shower, a wide bed and some male company; reality a 1L fanny wash behind one of several abandoned huts in a campsite where what felt like thousands of people stood around us. They wouldn't leave, retreating only into the shadows when asked to "allez", so we are back to all-night guarding.
Enjoyed today, although it didn't have the joy of yesterday, but we are another 100km further into this extraordinary country. I'm loving the scenery here and trying not to nod off on the truck in case I miss something.
Went for a 10pm "appreciation of jungle noises" walk with Jim and Adri. The road verges were alight with the tiny blue stars of fireflies. Jim caught one in his torch light and it was like a ballet dancer, following the beam for minutes. The almost hypnotic night chorus of bugs and beetles was occasionally broken by the blood-curdling screams of a tree hyrax (a native mammal). Apart from that, camp was very quiet, the guard an overreaction to past losses; my midnight shift passed very slowly.
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