Rwanda - July 2012

Karisimbi, the highest mountain in Rwanda:  I can’t keep up with the different time zones – this morning I was an hour early.  

I had Mr Day - the movie star - as my guide, Emmanuel, a feisty Italian who demanded to either have his own guide or a $100 discount as fellow hiker. John (my poor porter that had to carry my smelly backpack and then Claude - Mr Day’s porter. 

The feisty Italian

Mr Day

20 wood carriers and … 20 soldiers.  I was expecting 2 rangers with weapons to scare buffaloes away.  I am dying to take pics but was explicitly told that it was forbidden. One carried a bazooka that I was sure would blow 10 elephants up in 1 go.  I huffed and puffed for 6 hours before I pitched my tent at 3500 m. 

Our campsite

Mr Day and 2 porters slept in a contraption that looks like a manger. Except for 2 soldiers, the rest are inconspicuous.  

At 16:00, whilst I was sitting around a fire, they appeared out of nowhere before they disappeared again in different directions, carrying some wood. They were still grumpy – or  maybe they were instructed not to smile and mix with tourists?  It seemed as if Mr Day had  flu.  I crawled into my tent to read at 18:00.

I was halfway dressed before I realised it was only 04:00 and not 5:00 so I tried to be quiet till the Italian’s alarm went off.  I love hiking in the dark, so without consulting the Italian, I woke Mr Day at 5:10 and advised him to stay in his manger and sleep off his flu. 

Hiking through some bushes

I knew we had John, Claude and an undisclosed number of soldiers to prevent me from getting lost. 3 hours of huffing and puffing followed and because of the altitude, I had to rest often. I also took some pictures of the soldiers whenever I thought I could get away with it.

The last bit to the top was quite slippery, but luckily they had some fixed ropes to hold on to.  I was disappointed with all the steel and other building material lying on top – but I trust Mr Day will make sure that the Parks board remove it. 

The last stretch to the top

I hauled out the South African flag and several pictures were taken BEFORE I was approached by 3 soldiers who asked me if they could take a picture with me.  I was flabbergasted. A photo shoot on top of Karisimbi with the 3 soldiers followed.  Two of them still refused to smile and unfortunately, the one put down his gun to take selfies so I still don’t have any good pictures of the weapons.

On top of Karisimbi

I took my time going down the steep volcano (5 hours).  I knew I was going to miss being called “Missis’ by the Italian guy, “Madam” by Mr Day, “Mam” by the porters and … well, being ignored by the soldiers.

On top of the clouds

"Gorillas in the mist"

My experience with the Mountain Gorillas of Rwanda left me with many mixed emotions. 

The start of the hike

Being so close to these majestic apes in their habitat was humbling. The gorillas are enormous and you always had the feeling that they know you were in their territory and that they had the upper hand. Our presence did not seem to bother them, however they were very aware of us.  We were able to see them in their own environment doing “gorilla” things and this was an awesome experience. 

It was absolutely awesome

 

2 meters from the group

You are only allowed to be near them for one hour to minimize the stress to the animal and I found it difficult to decide if I should just observe or use the time to take photos and videos.  One did not want to miss anything and looking through a viewfinder seemed to restrict the view of the family so close to us.


The "brother" who played with everyone

The incessant noise of the shutters and beeps from the cameras also did not seem natural but in hindsight I am glad I did take photos/videos as IO have watched them over and over again and have relieved the experience and see different things every time.

A Chameleon

The whole experience left one me with a feeling that we as humans need to do more to ensure that our children get to see these great apes in their natural habitat and the high park fees which we paid are helping to pay for the guards, the local villagers and much more, therefore ensuring the park’s viability and sustainability.


The group which we went with included an American ape veterinarian.

 

Her experience in conjunction with the local guard and park ranger left us with a better appreciation of the gorillas and their unique behaviour.  This included trying to learn ”gorilla” and the sounds they make to communicate amongst each other.  The one sound we needed to know was how to calm them down and literally say “we come in peace”

Whilst on the mountain we also got to see the mountain buffalo and many different plant species and this made the trip something to remember.

 After bidding our fellow group members and guides farewell, I left, humbled and very aware that I had just been fortunate to experience something very special.

 

The 9 month old baby captured everyone's heart

  

Mt Bisoko (Volcano)

The last two days have been hectic.  After arriving in Rwanda for the first time, I was informed that my permit to climb Karisimbi had been evoked – apparently there were some safety issues. 

I had two choices.  I could stay in the Guest house for two days or I could jump in a taxi and go back to Uganda where two volcanoes awaited. 

Two days later, the official at the border couldn’t believe his eyes.  I have been in and out of the country four times. 

The first and fourth time, I walked across the border.  The second time I crossed the border while hiking to Mt. Sabinyo . The third time, I dove into lake Mutavaru and swam in the freezing water to Rwanda. 

I was treated like a VIP at the guest house I have left in such a hurry after I was informed that I won’t be able to climb Karisimbi. 



A Map of all the volcanoes

Climbing Bisoko:  Stuart Martin has joined me the previous evening and after being picked up at 04h00, a bumpy ride to the Rwanda Parksboard offices followed. After being entertained by the local dancers, we were on our way to the start. Once again, it was a steep uphill – but what a beautiful hike.  The rest of the group rushed to the top but this was Stuart’s first big mountain and we took it step by step. It was a good thing, because we got to see one of the five Rwenzori Toracoes in the area.  Our guide also “confessed” to me that he used to be a poacher and that he started at the age of three.  His family had no other income and this was the only way to survive.  I felt very ashamed for being so quick to judge. 

We had a cut-off time and I was getting a bit nervous.  Suddenly our guide shouted “Well done, you have reached the half way mark!” My first thoughts were that we will never make it – but Stuart just carried on – and not long after, we reached the top.  I think any other person would have given up, and turned back. Once again, I have learned a valuable lesson. 


On top

The hike down was supposed to be a lot easier, but it was extremely slippery, and Stuart discovered immediately that his hiking boot had no grip on them.  No matter what he did, he fell all the way down. The guides and porters were very concerned, especially after he got a bit cranky and swore a bit – but I tried to put them all at ease by videotaping some of his falls. For some reason, it didn’t have a very positive effect on some people. 



It was very steep and very slippery

It was a huge relief when we finally got to the forest at the bottom where we hit the jackpot.  A big silverback crossed the path and what an awesome and unexpected experience.  After hearing him beating his chest on the way up, we now had our exposure of the “gorillas in the mist”.  

A quick clean-up followed walking through the village and when I remarked that Rwanda is an extremely clean country, our guide told me that they had a clean-up every month and that it was illegal to bring plastic bags into the country. 

Someone was doing something right in Rwanda.


The Clean-up

Uganda - Mt Muhavura

It was whilst descending Mt. Sabinyo that I was told about Mt. Muhavura, the highest volcano in Uganda. I was also told that you can swim to Rwanda, and my fatemind was made up.   

Mt Muhavura - the highest volcano in Uganda (4127m)

After a rejuvenating shower, I went for supper where I bumped into two Hollanders who told me about this crazy lady that wants to swim to Rwanda. “Oh, I said.  That's me.  Do you want to join me?” 

For some reason, they only decided to join me for the hike. I had to get back to Rwanda before the border closed the next day so the idea was that I leave very early and that they would come later with a taxi and that I would bump into them coming down.   



The start - 2381 m

My legs were still a bit shaky after climbing the 1300m to Mt. Sabinyo’s peak the day before, but when the motorbike stopped in front of the backpacker’s at 04h30, I ran outside, ready to climb Mt. Muhavura.   

In the beginning, I thought it was quite funny that the motorbike driver had to stop every now and again to answer his cellphone.  An hour later, I was no longer amused.  The Hollander’s taxi, which left an hour after me, arrived at the parks gate at exactly the same time.

 

“Go, Go, Go”, they shouted and I started running. I was stopped by the guide, who said he knew I had to get across the border to Rwanda but that I had to wait for the other two.  An hour later, a decision was made. I would take one guide and a porter with me, and the other two would follow.  The super fit porter and guide were a true inspiration, and I followed huffing and puffing, using a lot of mind over matter to convince myself that this was just a walk in the park. 

It was freezing, and although a bit disappointed, I have convinced myself that a swim on top was out of the question.

All of a sudden, we were at the top. “So that’s the lake”, I asked!  “Yes, that’s the lake”, came the reply.  "How high is it?", I asked. "4137m", they shouted.

 

Much to my guide and porter’s surprise, I started stripping.  When it was only my thermal undies left, I jumped in. The water was absolutely freezing, but I made it to the other side.  




Swimming to Rwanda

Somehow, I managed to get back into my warm clothes, but it took me a good hour before I stopped shivering. Running down, I passed the two Hollanders.  “You didn’t”, they shouted. 

“Hmmm, I was going to, and then I was not going to, but in the end, I did it! Life is too short not to do it” 

On top of Mt Muhavura - freezing after my swim

Thankfully, my motorbike driver was waiting patiently. I gave the driver explicit instructions not to use his phone, which must have unsettled him, because he drove like a lunatic. I closed my eyes and prayed! Ten minutes before the border closed, I greeted the surprised border official again.   I had crossed the Rwanda/Uganda border no less than four times during the past two days.

Uganda - Mt Sabinyo

In Africa, things don’t always work out the way we plan.

I arrived in Rwanda with anticipation for my climb up Mt Karisimbi, only to discover that my permit had now been revoked due to safety issues. I was left with two choices.
1. stay in my guest house for two days or,
2. go back to Uganda and climb the volcanoes there.

Three hours later I was back in Uganda, much to the immigration officer’s surprise.

Mt Sabinyo (3669m)

I had not prepared myself for any of the climbs in Uganda. I was told that if you summit Mt Sabinyo, you are on the border of the DRC, Uganda and Rwanda. Mt Sabinyo is also called 'Old Man's Teeth' because unlike the conical summits of the surrounding peaks, the serrated summit resembles worn teeth in a gum line.

What they didn’t tell me was that it was a 1300m elevation gain, steep and exposed.

I was joined by two couples, who started too fast for me. At first, I thought I wouldn't make it but at the first hut, I caught up with them.  The altitude was getting to some of them and if it wasn’t for the vegetation and the ladders, the hike to the top would have been extremely scary.

Having set my foot on the border of DRC, Uganda and Rwanda, I was more than ready to head down. 


It was very steep!

After the first 50m descend, I had to stop and wait for a while for my legs to stop shaking and welcomed the break.   

On our way down Mt Sabinyo, I was told about Mt Muhavura, the highest volcano in Uganda.  I was also told that you could swim to Rwanda once you get to the top.  I decided there and then that I was going to climb Mt Muhavura the following day.


Breathtaking view

 

On the Rwanda/Uganda and DRC border

Uganda - Rwenzori

There’s something magical about Ruwenzori.  I’m notorious for crying when I have to get off a mountain. In 2005, I made history (I think), by crying when I set eyes on the mountain of the moon.  Due to bad weather, we didn’t make it to the top – but I left a big chunk of my heart behind and I knew I would return.

It was Thursday, the 5^th of June 2012 – and things didn’t go as planned. A dove flew through the lounge window the evening before we had to leave and once at the airport 

• We were informed that we needed a proof of residence before we could exchange money
• We were informed that our yellow fever cards were needed – and our newly bubble wrapped luggage had to be un-bubble wrapped.
• The boarding pass got lost
• The cell phone charger was left behind. 

But, I was lucky – it all happened to Christa, who was all flustered once we finally got on the aeroplane. All I had to do was keep her calm. 

That evening we stayed at Hein and Helle (A Norwegian diplomat’s) house and I was past relieved when I discovered that the earplugs I brought with worked. 

 

The next morning, I was up, one eager beaver and I almost didn’t notice that there was no running water. Diplomat’s house or not – this was Africa. 

 

My heart felt faint when I finally got to see the Mountain of the moon again – and I could just gawk the whole 50 km she was visible. 

 

At the Rwenzori backpackers, our guides/porters and gear were quickly sorted out and then it was time for a cold beer and supper. 

 

7 July 2012: A hectic 4X4 ride started the day and after being briefed by the ranger, we could finally start our hike.  A steady climb through a pristine montane forest followed the first two kilometres and we couldn’t believe our luck when we stumbled upon a three horned chameleon.   

The three horned chameleon

After lunch, we passed a rock shelter and it was after entering the bamboo zone, that the climb got steeper. Excited about all the birds and sounds of the forests, it was a bit of a disappointment when we arrived at the hut so soon.  I was expecting a dilapidated hut (which would have worked for me).  Instead, Sine hut, a nice wooden structure at 2596 m and Nescafe coffee awaited us. 

 

Helle has informed us the day before that we should just inform the people that we needed to go for a short call, and they would understand that we needed to empty our bladders. I think all the fresh air and the fact that I don’t get enough Omega 3 in, must have contributed to the fact that I kept on telling the guides that I was going for a short fall instead.  

 

Whilst we admired the birds, the porters and guides made two camps and planted grass they brought up from the lunch spot.  I could not stop laughing when Christa mentioned that she couldn’t believe how brave the trees were growing against the steep hills. 

 

The earplugs worked their magic again that evening. 

 

8 July: Our five star breakfast included eggs, sausages and tomatoes. The bog has started - so except for Helle, we were all armed with Wellingtons. 

Stuck in the bog!

I couldn’t get enough of the magical sounds surrounding us and decided to stick with Christa and Robert – the guide and bird expert. It was an extremely sensible decision.  Amongst the endemic birds spotted was a Rwenzori Touraco. 

 

Steep uphills, boggy patches, ladders and some spectacular falls in the mud, which I have been fortunate to capture on video, made the day extra special.  I was now in the possession of truly amazing moments on the special Rwenzori – and it was only the second day.

 

I decided to refrain from any caffeine intake after 18h00 and only one short call was called for during the evening.  

The lovely Margherita peak

9 July: Despite the fact that a part of Rwenzori was badly burned two weeks ago, another breath-taking hike followed. At some stages, we were surrounded by mountains and my heart overflowed. This special mountain, together with the altitude, left me breathless. The temporary erected tent was a pleasant surprise.  Unfortunately, previous hikers have left their rubbish lying around, but after a clean-up the camp everyone could go back to sleep.

10 July: Blaming the altitude for my appetite, I gobbled up three pancakes before facing lots of bush, steep hills and rocks.   My hiking poles height varied between 110 cm to 130 cm, it drizzled but I treasured every second on this mountain. Once again, Hunwick hut was a pleasant surprise – and too comfortably, I snored myself awake and decided to offer the rest of the team some of my earplugs. 

 

11 July: Another remarkable day in the mountain followed, where much to my surprise, we had toasted cheese and tomato (my favourite meal) for lunch. My admiration for our guides/porters and cook soared to new heights.

 

Once at Margareta hut, all the equipment was tested before snuggling up for the evening. It was heart-warming listening to the happy chattering of the porter and guides.

 

12 July: I woke up at 03h15, my heart palpitating.  I was scared and simultaneously excited.  Hein decided to stay behind after experiencing trouble with his breathing and at 04h30, our two guides, Helle and myself started our adventure to the top. 

I thanked my lucky stars that it was still dark when we started using ropes to get up some rocks and just before sunrise, we reached the first glacier. Being tied to Helle and William, listening to the crunching sound of the snow, I felt like a true mountaineer. 

Just after reaching the end of the first glacier, Helle decided to turn around and Enoch escorted her. Poor William had no choice – I was adamant to carry on. Because the rocks were so slippery, we kept our crampons on and had to concentrate very hard not to fall. It was therefore quite a surprise when William called out – “The start of the Margareta glacier”.  

Finally on top!

I looked up, and almost fainted.  A sheer 20 m ice wall stared me in the face! I was on the verge of hyperventilating when I realised that it was a fantastic thing that I didn’t know what was lying ahead of me. I had to get to the top! Once on top, I can start hyperventilating thinking about getting down!

Kick the left crampon in, kick the right crampon in, swing the ice-axe, say a prayer and don’t look down!  Kick the left crampon in, kick the right crampon in, swing the ice-axe, say a prayer and don’t look down!  

And now to get down!

Once on top, I try my level best to stop my body from shaking.  The worst is over. From now on, it will be a piece of cake. 

Luckily, I didn’t know what was lying ahead of me! An extremely steep “hill” followed. “Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, look back and count till 20 before repeating the exercise”.  William encourages me by telling me that we are almost at the top.  But I am an African and I tell him that I don’t need encouragement.  I know that time and distance is irrelevant in Africa. Besides, I was enjoying the suffering and was extremely glad that I didn’t know what to expect. 

“We’re almost there”, remarks William, and to my surprise, the snow has stopped, but huge rocks waited – and it involved a lot of fixed ropes. One step at a time, one step at a time. Trust William – and then a thought rossed my mind – what if something happens to William!



William leading the way

A more exposed ledge followed and finally, we were on top! The wind was howling and after the usual pictures, we decided to go down. 

Getting back on the glazier, swinging from one rope to the next, I did a lot of praying.

Hiking across the glazier, I shouted in awe, prayed and swore a lot. How am I going to get down the glacier!  Reminding myself that nothing can be worse than public speaking, I calmed down – for a second or two. 


Too soon, we faced the 20m sheer drop!  I watched in awe while William used the ice-screws, and after what felt like ages, I was abseiling down the ice.   

 

William busy with the ice screws

Safely on the ground, it was time for another prayer. “Dear God, please don’t let anything happen to William.  If something happens to him, we’re in big trouble!”The angels were with us! William made it safely down the Margarita Glacier and the hike down to the hut felt like a piece of cake – rock climbing and all.  Once again, I was extremely grateful for starting in the dark and having no clue what lay ahead. I was welcomed like a hero and a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich was handed to me! I felt like Sir Edmond Hillary!

My legs were still very shaky but I made it down to Hunwick Camp.  It has been a long day and overcoming my fears took their toll. I was planning on summiting Mt Baker the next morning, starting at 04h00 with Enoch, but since my legs were still shaky, I decided to sleep in till 06h00! 

Shaky legs, steep downhills and bog!

The next three days were filled with magical moments, getting everyone to clean-up the camps and serious down-hills, which resulted in some serious toe-jams. 

After crying for 3 straight hours, I must have looked a sight arriving at the park gate. I didn’t want to leave this beautiful mountain, but I vowed that I will be back – to spend at least a month on her. 

A night in Queen Elizabeth Park was extremely extravagant and I made the most of this luxury. I treated myself to a facial/pedicure/manicure, the works. A luxurious bath was next on my agenda – but since I have used up all the hot water trying to get the bog out of my hiking clothes, I had to do with a quick cold bath.

The clean-up

Then it was time to overcome my fear of travelling alone.  The group dropped me off in Mbabara and like before, an angel appeared and escorted me to the taxi rank, where, thanks to my 3 month trip in West-Africa, I felt quite at home.  

 

The 4 hour taxi ride to Kisoro took a bit longer and after 24 hours, I finally arrived in Kisoro.




 

The cause? Extreme downhill toe-jam





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Angola - Monte Mocco

ANGOLA

The first time I tried to get to Monte Mocca, was in 2006. The roads were bad, I couldn’t find anyone to travel with me, I couldn’t speak Portuguese and the accommodation and aeroplane tickets were disgustingly expensive.

It’s June 2012

• The flight prices dropped to below half
• Through friends, accommodation was now available at less than a quarter of the price
• There was no need to get all the necessary permission to go the mountain
• I found someone willing to go with me
• I was told I had to take 5 days leave at work

It was a definite sign.

• The trip was planned to the T.
• I would pack the day before and get up early, eager as a beaver
• I would walk to the Gautrain station, take the train to the Airport, have a nice relaxing cup of coffee (or two) and buy some tax exempted gadgets before flying to Luanda
• I would then fly to Huambo, drive to the mountain, climb the mountain, drive back to Huambo before flying back to Luanda
• I would then spend a relaxing day in Luanda on the beach before returning to sunny South Africa

Due to a power failure, I was unable to pack the evening before and this was just the start of it.

23 June2012:

 

07h00: We were sitting on the Gautrain

 

07h15: The train was not going anywhere due to a power failure.  I phoned my son: “Ethaaaaaan! Please come and pick me up”

 

07h45: There was still no sign of my son.  With 30 minutes left to get to the airport, we grabbed the rest of the nervous foreigners that needed to catch a plane and jumped into a taxi. “GO!!!! We all shouted in different languages

 

07h55: We got stopped at a roadblock. I opened my window and shouted “No Gautrain, Late for flight! Please give us an escort!” The metro police shook their heads and off we sped.

 

This was my lucky day. We could have gotten stuck with the Gautrain between two stations. We made it just in time. Coffee had to wait.

Once we were airborne, I took out my earphones, looking forward to watching a movie, just to discover that my earphone connection was not working. Fortunately for me, “The Artist”, a silent movie was also on the playing list.

Once in Luanda, we were informed that we had to check our luggage in the evening before so our designated driver took us back to the airport to “quickly” check in our luggage.  Three hours later we found ourselves sitting on our backpacks, still in the queue and seriously dehydrated.  Using gestures to try and found out what was happening, turned out to be futile.

I am used to the luggage being bubble wrapped for protection in sunny South Africa, but in Angola, packaging tape are used and as soon as we set foot in the airport, we were exposed to the deafening sound of cooler boxes (filled with fish) and other luggage being wrapped for the entire period we were sitting clueless in the queue.

Trying to buy bottled water turned out to be quite a challenge since our driver couldn’t speak English, but after numerous attempts, he stopped at a shop and I downed a whole liter of water.

The next morning, despite the fact that I didn’t have one drop of alcohol, I woke up with one hell of a hangover and immediately downed another liter of water, before heading for the airport to catch the flight to Huambo.

Once on the aeroplane, whilst trying to figure out why we had to show or passport and yellow fever card at all 6 check points, I noticed that duct tape was used to hold several parts together in the cabin.

Safely in Huambo, I had new admiration for the duct tape.  Notwithstanding the power failure, using the Portuguese phrase book and gestures, I think we were welcomed by the Immigration Officer.

After arriving at Carlos’s house, I fell asleep and slept the whole day – suspecting some sort of jet lag. It was only the next morning that I was told that it couldn’t have been jetlag since we only travelled for two hours and that I have taken some sleeping tablets instead of my malaria tablets.
 

After walking around for 8 hours looking for
 a 4X4 to rent, Stuart had to carry
Flanders, Nunu's dog

I also realised that the neighbour’s party which started at 15h00 the previous day, stopped at 05h00 the next morning, but I have slept through most of the blaring music.

The next morning, we visited every vehicle rental place in Huambo on foot and after 8 hours, we gave up and Nunu, Carlos’ son, started phoning all his friends asking them if they could take us to the mountain.  We struck luck at 20h00, when Frank said he’ll take us for only $300.

At 21h00, music started blaring again – and once again, it stopped at 05h00 the next morning. I was awfully impressed with the Angolan’s party spirit! 

In front of the Chief's house

At 06h00 on the 26^th of June 2012, we found ourselves driving down Huambo’s streets, finally on our way to Monte Mocca. There was hardly a building not riddled with bullet holes.  A bumpy two hour drive followed and after stopping several times for directions, we finally arrived in Canjonde.  The chief was attending a funeral, and Nunu suggested a stroll up the mountain.

The “stroll” turned into a serious 4 hour hike where I discovered that

• My fitness level was below average
• You shouldn’t hike with jeans
• I carried 5 litters of water and a kg of apples to the top

Picking up litter after our "short" hike

Pitching the tent turned into huge entertainment for the village children, and after an hour, Nunu realised that he packed it up upside down after his last camping weekend.

After sunset, the guys had supper and loads of beers with the chief, whilst I snuggled into my sleeping bag, just to be woken by Nunu’s blaring music – which just happened to drown out the music that was playing two houses away.

The next morning, I woke up with my mouth filled with sand, and realised that I have accidentally left open the zip of my tent. I felt extremely proud of myself for not being fazed by all the snoring/farting and other noises made by the guys and village dogs/goats/geese and pigs.  By 06h20, we were following the guide (appointed by the Chief) and his two hunting dogs to Angola’s highest peak.

A loud shout led us to a beautiful 2 meter African Rock Python, and it took some convincing before they decided that it was unnecessary to kill it.

Once on top, everyone, the dogs included, admired the view.  And then it was time to face the slippery steep downhill. 

After five years, I finally got the opportunity
to summit Monte mocca

The shy village children welcomed us and then it was time to be entertained by Nunu’s great sense of humour.  I could not stop thinking that we would have had a terrible time trying to communicate with the villagers using the only Portuguese words I knew, namely,  Obrigado, Por favor and Monte Mocca.

Shortly afterwards, Frank arrived with his bakkie loaded with corrugated iron sheets, and the chief’s wife got extremely excited.   It was only driving back that we were informed that the chief has conned him into stopping for the potatoes and that he couldn’t get it over his heart to load the corrugated iron as well.

Another bumpy drive followed before we were welcomed by yet another party in Huambo!

The next morning, we were entertained by Nunu and a friend, who decided to try their hand at carpentry, and especially a table. After 5 hours, they have made one table, unfit for anything except fire wood. They decided to try their hand at building – but after their attempt to put up cornices failed after 3 hours, they decided that it was time to join a party, that once again, started at 17h00.

Once again, the music stopped the following morning at 05h00 – and shortly afterwards we left for the airport.  Once in Luanda, the 10 km drive to the beach took 3 hours. I could not help but notice that 99,9% of the vehicles in Luanda had dents in them, and 99,9% of the vehicles had no rear view mirrors. Apparently there are only 3 robots in the city with more than 40 million residents.

The following morning, it was time to show our passports and yellow fever card 5 times, before I was shown to a small room, where a lady with a glove on, waited.  I didn’t have a clue what she wanted, but very nervous about the glove, I reluctantly showed her my secret belt with all my dollars. I was adamant to cling onto my dollars, but could foresee problems being in jail with my limited Portuguese words. A search through my hand luggage followed and then the clearly unhappy lady shooed me away.  (I was later informed that it is illegal to take out the local currency)

My knees were still shaking when Stuart was called aside, and escorted to some unknown place.  Halfway through my panic attack, I realised I could get on the plane, or stay behind and try and find out what was happening. Considering my ability to converse in Portuguese, I was about to walk to the plane when Stuart arrived, and hissed that he has accidentally booked my backpack on his name. 

It was only once on the plane that I was told that all my rocks I have picked up on Monte Mocco were confiscated. Once again, I have not thought that the rocks I picked up innocently on Monte Mocca (I got a bit carried away and ended up carrying 13 big ones down the mountain) would raise the suspicion of being a prospector. I made a mental note to choose only a small rock to take from every mountain I visit in future.  I was then told about the surprised look on the suspicions officials face when they discovered panties and bras in “Stuart’s” backpack.

The children from the village