At 1.30am the heavens opened with a roar of water. I scrambled half-naked scramble around the truck dropping the sides before crawling back under my net to listen to the deluge, which continued non-stop the rest of the night. We breakfasted under a broken sky, patches of blue not stopping the rain until 10.30am.
The deluge had washed away all hope of making it further into Malawi. The remaining road supporting the Bailey Bridge had caved in, leaving only a couple of metres of soil dangerously unsupported and the bridge work hanging over the edge, and a crowd now stood around, sheltering under banana leaves, watching the bridge being dismantled. The revised estimate for passage this was two weeks and the only alternate route, a road crossing three creeks which would now be racing rivers was impossible for Stanley. So all we could do was U-turn back into Tanzania.
Our campsite was a quagmire, souvenirs and cushions in the truck wet, the floor thick with mud and everyone’s stuff in various stages of sodden. Cow bells tinkled as a herd passed along the road beside the truck. The sun broke through as we packed up.
The road back to the foot wash stop was under water in many places, the fields awash, the creeks swollen, and one roadway very much narrowed over the water below. We passed Encounter Overland bogged to the axle and many hours from departing. The road barrier had closed six minutes before we got there but for once in Africa sanity and reason overrode bureaucracy and the officer let us through.
Kel explained that all manpower and equipment was being taken from the fallen bridge to reinforce the branch road, with plans to send a construction vehicle first to pull out any vehicles in trouble and the estimated date for thirst truck getting through was three days. Detouring via Tanzania and Zambia into Malawi would take three days and involve following a bad road along Lake Malawi. This would also involve an additional two-day mountain detour. So we must cross Malawi off our itinerary and take the "Hell Road" to Lusaka. Everyone was disappointed when we started Tanzanian entry procedures again. My US$80 was deemed insufficient funds so I had to show him my credit card.
We made it through all the posts, bemused as to whether they had known about the downed bridge and not told us, which seemed unlikely though somehow very African, or they just didn’t know the drama unfolding a few kilometres up the road. We will never know.
Played Scrabble as we drove for what was left of the afternoon, after ages at the border, and camped on the edge of another soccer field, this one lined with flower beds.
I've come to terms with missing Malawi by deciding to explore as much of South Africa as my money will permit and am now scouring the brochures with increasing enthusiasm.
Bed time and the rain coming down, here we go again.
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