On the road again...

FIVE weeks of waiting for the visas we need to continue on our journey!

But finally we are on our way!

This morning I woke up to a tap-tap-tap against my tent wall. On closer inspection it turned out to be a baby frog -- I reckon he has not been out of his tadpole stage more than a couple of days -- unless it was the torrential storm we had two nights ago that launched him into this world. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I remember something about waking up with frogs in my socks and I thought, 'How apt!' Bob Dylan's 'On the road again' -- today is the day that we get moving again on our expedition through Africa -- and a minute little frog trying to get into my little bubble of consciousness was the one to auger in the day!

Well, I wake up in the morning
There's frogs inside my socks
Your mama, she's a-hidin'
Inside the icebox
Well, I got to pet your monkey
I get a face full of claws
I ask who's in the fireplace
And you tell me Santa Claus
Your grandpa's cane
It turns into a sword
Your grandma prays to pictures
That are pasted on a board
And you ask me why I don't live here
Honey, I can't believe that you're for real.

Yesterday was our Big Celebration -- pig roast on the spit and pants party -- once again the hog was brought back from the dubious-definitely-NOT-health-and-safety-approved pig-place on the other side of town. We went to choose the pig we wanted, opting for a slightly smaller one than last time. This pig was a good 8 kilograms lighter than the one we roast on my birthday, and we invited everyone in the Sleeping Camel to the celebration (about 30 people) and still it could have fed at least 50 more people comfortably. Because of religious reasons, none of the staff here eat pork, so I quickly went out and got a large chicken-on-the-spit for them so they could also share in our final night here. I think they all tried very hard keep their mouth from watering -- anyone would have struggled with that, as the aromas of the sizzling pig permeated the air around us. But the chicken smelt good and tasted great -- and the splendid salads that Emy and Tash prepared were excellent accompaniment to this celebratory feast. There was a beetroot salad -- a new taste for the staff and vociferously approved, a mixed garden salad with hard boiled eggs and mango, a pasta salad with pineapple, gherkins and a delicious concoction of a dressing (one for the recipe book, Emy!),

After the meal, it was time for our group to get to know the new group that had arrived with Mat -- who had, by this stage, already passed out...

The boys were on the prowl -- it has been a long long time...

When the drinking games stared -- Ring of Fire was the first one -- it helped to break the proverbial ice. Not there was much ice around with temperatures soaring in the forties.

As expected, the members of the other group were mainly the ones to end up as being the Bitch -- so there was a lot of fetching drinks, running around the truck, and singing the Canadian National anthem. We were joined by a crazy Hungarian mid-way through who instantly got involved, became a Bitch and jumped into the pool with all his clothes on. Roughly at this stage Bill passed out -- how he lasted that long, remains a miracle -- must be the Malian water... By the time the game was finished and the cards were all soggy on the floor, people broke off in groups -- the boys desperate to become better acquainted with the girls -- with varying tactics and low levels of success. Trust one of our adopted Dutchies to have the most success --( man-up, Trans boys!!!). Around 6 am the last bedraggled ones lurked off to random air mattresses, dorm beds and vacant tents and it was generally the consensus that a good night had been had by all.

This morning, one by one, blurry eyed and smiling, people are emerging... No doubt there will be a few stories to tell when we hit the road!