It’s amazing how far 6 miles can feel when you’re crashing through the bush down rutted dirt roads. Where every bean tree and corn stalk looks like the last and within 5 minutes, you’re hopelessly disoriented.
After finishing up a visit to 2 new and distant groups yesterday, my driver and I got a bit of a late start heading home. I asked before we departed if he knew how to get back – our guides informed us they were staying behind to head to their nearby homes – and he assured me that he did.
About 30 minutes later, we came to a huge puddle (pond really) in the road that we definitely hadn’t crossed on our way there. Questioning a passerby, we found that we had missed our turn by a long shot. But within a minute, the driver had me convinced he had this under control. Even though every road here looks the same to me, he has had a lot of practice orienting himself using mountains and sun position, so even though we were on a different route, he was still confident he could get us home. So we plunged nose first into the pond.
And promptly got stuck.
I must have let out a frustrated (or terrified because oh-my-god-i’m-not-sleeping-in-this-truck-in-the-bush-with-no-cell-service) sigh because he immediately took to reassuring me. ‘Don’t worry! We’ll get out!’ (He starts taking off his shoes) ‘A much bigger truck passed by here not long ago, so we’re just fine!’ (The socks come off). ‘I’ll just step out here and hook up the traction!’ (I have no idea what he’s talking about and am trying to breathe slowly.)
He hopped out of the car, did something to the front wheels, hopped back in, and freed us without much more ado. I relaxed, but would not do so completely until I got home. The quick African night was upon us and we still had to navigate our way around a new bridge not yet equipped for the passing of vehicles.
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