Where are we? Back on track, soon on the road again, SO ready for the next half of the journey!

First of all a huge apology to all my readers for simply leaving you hanging!

The last couple of weeks in Kinshasa was a strange time in limbo; finally learning that we could get visas but only to fly into Luanda (Angola) and then travel by road from there, trying to find a way for the truck to meet us there but discovering that shipment of a vehicle from Pointe Noire (Congo-Brazzaville - which would have necessitated Mark to take those non-roads all the way back there!) are prohibitively expensive and so ruling out that possibility, then spending days trying to find flights for everyone to Windhoek (via via via -- Addis Abbeba, Nairobi,Johannesburg, Cape Town...) AND trying to sort through all the artifacts and masks and carvings and loads and loads of fabrics that everyone had accumulated over the last six months. We could not leave anything on the truck as we had no idea what was going to happen to it, and, as we had assumed that we would only have to deal with all that extra luggage once we arrived at our end destination - Istanbul - it came as somewhat of a shock that all of a sudden we had to deal with this problem in Kinshasa. David did all the homework and found DHL would be the most expedient, but then was told that in order to send masks from Africa you need a certificate with its providence from the Ministry of Culture. A certificate? When they had been bought from a motley bunch of people somewhere along the road -- exact location on the map unknown; when the price had been negotiated over several hours and even days and had gone up and down and sideways so many times that: -- exact purchase price now forgotten; when the original source of the mask was often a mere figment of the sales skills of the seller -- so origin unknown; and when the age of the mask could be anything between the 200 years that the seller claimed and 2 years that the layer of dust and dirt guaranteed -- so age unknown. Where and when was there ever a thought of obtaining a certificate of authenticity and providence? David ended up paying a king's ransom -- or should I say an African dictator's ransom for a man from the Ministry to come give an assessment of his masks and another Mugabe's ransom to have his 18(?) masks sent home. I say a little prayer daily that the receiver on the other side is not going to have to pay yet another ransom in import duty...

Because of a commitment I had made, I had to stay at our friend's house until everyone had left, which meant that I missed out on Namibia, Swakopmund, the Skeleton Coast, the dunes and the Koker Trees and Namakwaland, spring in the desert and the drive down the West Coast and the wine tour in Stellenbosch and Cape Town... Ironically I have criss-crossed South Africa during my long life-time and know my country probably better than most, but the one place I have never been is Namibia (-- other than Windhoek where we were guests during the Independence Celebrations many years ago.) I was so looking forward to seeing this beautiful country, so having to forfeit that entire section was not a sacrifice I was happy to make. I would have thought that with a little more forethought and planning things could have been organised differently. But that is all water under the bridge now.

During the last few days, our gracious host, Jacky Ngando and I explored Kinshasa and the surrounding countryside, enjoyed the delights of the best ice-cream parlour in the entire world, sat and talked and and talked and talked - making my stay in Kinshasa -- and especially our walks along the mighty Congo River, very very much a Red Button Moment for me! We spoke about history and perceptions, about values and integrity, about nature and art and about the nature of man. Jacky is a mining engineer of note (currently with Mwana Africa PLC, a pan-African, multi-commodity resources company. Mwana’s principal operations and exploration activities cover gold, nickel and other base metals, and diamonds in Zimbabwe, the DRC and South Africa. Mwana was the first African owned and managed mining business to be listed on London’s AIM market.) with a string of degrees from universities all over the world (- starting at Stanford, then Yale and from there to Europe and onwards) , but nonetheless he devoted days and days to our little group's every wish and need, and, as we speak, he is on an expedition that he had been planning over the last year: with a group of friends – all experts in one or another field – he has gone into the forest near the village where he was born where they are going to stay for a month – in sepcially designed tents. During this time they will set up solar powered equipment, including satellite television, internet, cooking and refrigeration facilities, a water pump and water purification system, an irrigation system, a greenhouse, and much more. The mind boggles when you see the extent of this experiment he is setting up in the forest. The aim is to educate the local people of the region there – and showing them first hand what they can do with modern technology powered by the sun. He will train them in innovative farming techniques, introduce them to new food sources (inter alia try to persuade them to grow nutritious maize rather than nutrient-poor cassava! – Good luck Jacky!), hydroponics and irrigation systems and how to use the resources – of which the Congo DRC is so immensely rich – that are there and available and untapped.

At the end of the month, he will come back and then leave the Congo. As I mentioned before, the elections are scheduled for 29 November. Unless a few European countries (that are in Kabila's pocket) make the claim that the Congo is not ready for the elections and they are postponed, or unless the elections are not run in a fair and free manner, there is bound to be an upheaval in the country – probably, according to my sources, on the 6th of December. We met a human rights laywer – a Congolese who was thrown into prison by the previous Kabila - for being too outspoken, rescued by international pressure, and who now lives in South Africa, and who is currently back in Kinshasa as part of the monitoring team of the elections. “They are not preparing for an election,” Hubert said. “They are planning for war.”

(** For the background of what is happening in the Congo DRC, refer to precious entries)

So – where are we-- or rather, where am I?

Once everyone had left to continue on our journey, I flew – via Nairobi – to Johannesburg, where I literally fell into my sister's open arms! What joy! There waited for me a beautiful room in a beautiful garden, a comfortable bed, crisp cotton sheets, a soft light eiderdown, (a hotwater bottle at the bottom of the bed!), fresh flowers on the bedside table, a selection of the latest, best, most wonderful books to read, delicious food – the likes of which only Inkie knows to prepare – and the feeling of having arrived HOME! As the saying goes : Priceless...

And now, for the last week in Western Civilisation, I have been visiting Pierre in the breathtakingly lovely Port Alfred. The ocean here is so stunning, the wide, white beaches go on over the horizon, the rock pools a canvas of colour and texture and beauty, little restaurants where the food is innovative and exciting, - fresh fish and seafood – enough to sate even my craving!, the wine like you only find in this amazing country of mine, and the people warm and welcoming and exactly like I remember my fellow-South Africans to be. Flying with Pierre is always a thrill – and this morning when we flew out over the ocean and he took his student through the loops of cutting engines, asymmetric flight, steep turns, asymmetric touch and go, instrument flying and landings, aircraft calibration, sharp circle drops (emergency descent)– all with the strict instruction that “all of it has to be done without my mom feeling even a twinge of nausea!”, and it happened exactly like that, I wasn't sure whether I had to compliment the student on his brilliant flying skills or my son on his brilliant instruction skills. A proud moment either way.

Friday I fly back to Johannesburg and on Sunday I re-join the group – now a different bunch of people, a different driver, different dynamics, a very different Africa which awaits us on the East Coast of Africa. The East Coast is as different from the West Coast as night from day. English as opposed to French. Facilities and campsites and an environment geared for tourists. Tarred roads. Electricity. Different thinking. Different. The West Coast as we experienced it is still Black Africa/the Dark Continent. The East Coast, I expect, holds few remnants of that notion. But nevertheless an adventure – another adventure – that awaits us.
And after the comfortable two weeks in the warmth and safety and the laps of luxury and shelter of family and friends, I have re-gained more than a couple of the many kilos I had lost during the last six months, I have been reminded what it feels like to eat at a table set with starched linen table cloths and crystal glass and silver and porcelain, what it feels like to lie immersed in a bath filled with boiling hot water and six inches of perfumed foam, what it is to walk to the fridge and pour myself a glass of ice-cold milk, what it feels like to wake up in a comfortable bed and listen to the birds outside in the beautiful garden – and I am ready – as ready as I will ever be, to get back on the truck and continue my search for the fragrance of that shooting star.