Part 3 God knows best..

“Ahh, Ogambachi Injabo” are my first words to the police officer. I am not sure if I have the local greeting correct, but with languages, as with most things in life I figure you get bonus points for trying.

“Ehh, Yebali ko” She replies. There is no smile to be seen, but I know I am on the right track when she continues “Do you have citizenship?” The longer we can stay away from the topic of the overloaded roof racks the better the chances are of actually avoiding the issue. Me” No sister I am looking to marry, would you like a mazungu?” Police” Ah, but I am taken’ Me” You have a sister?” P” I have, she is there” Me “Is she beautiful?” P “Like me” H “ Ahh” we slap hands as the deal is agreed ”You bring” No bribe, instead a fair trade, paid in conversation and humor, two things Ugandans appreciate more than any other nation I have ever come across. No matter where you are, you can spark up a conversation and expect to have a laugh, a gas attendant will ask for your car, or girlfriend, rather than die wondering. As a people they stand for the very best in what Africa can teach the world, the gift of having little, striving for more, but never to busy for a laugh and a chat with a stranger or a friend. For all our western rushing to master time, like a dog chasing its tail. Ugandans own time by doing the opposite. Western culture values time as priceless, Ugandans know how to make time, you tell me who is the richer.

We are stopped twice more that day for no other apparent reason that shooting the shit. Obama has been elected. Bush, is out, and the world a better place. The fact that he is replaced with a black man seems almost to good to be true for Ugandans, as if his election has justified the whole continent.

We could not sweet talk the roof racks though; eventually gravity got the better of them, ripping the roof open so that no amount of black rubber or duck tape was going to stop our gear from ending up on the road soonish. Probable not by coincidence this happens on the 40km section of new road. Brand new tarmac, perfectly smooth and protected by speed bumps… every30meters. So high, cross angle approaches being the only way to clear them without scrapping the bottom. Traffic was moving in and around each other from opposite directions in a helix formation. It would of course be ludicrous anywhere else in the world, here its merle a lot of speed bumps and a unique Africa traffic pattern. Slowing down to a crawl we eventually sneak into the next brightly colored, cell phone branded town, roof racks still attached, if only barely.

The gas station attendant know the answer to our problem and 3 minutes later a pick up truck arrives, its seen better days but the wheels are still pointing in the right general direction. Negotiations begin. We baffle the driver with our clever calculations and undeniable logic, he strikes back using emotion and pity. We meet half way. Still to way more than a local would pay but white man tax is as certain as an Australian nurse.

The team will follow behind, while I go shotgun with the gear and new driver Godfri, or God for short. Tarmac turns to dirt eventually to mud, I can’t see the boys anymore, suspecting they fell back to avoid dust but noting there absence I gently enquire from God if this is indeed the way to Murchison falls. “It is the one” he replies.

You’re the expert, I think as I switch my concentration back to bracing myself in the seat attempting to minimize airtime from my worn down imitation leather seat. The tires are bold, the suspension shot, and we have yet to try the brakes, God isn’t risking getting stuck in the mud by slowing down.

Its been some distance since I have been on this road and never in this direction but still no sign of the boys and its just not feeling right. God has no doubt through, I’m just being paranoid.

An hour later we stop at the lodge that marks the end of the park and 1 hour in the opposite direction of where we should be. I start the verbal abuse that he deserves but catch myself half way through, loosing your temper is the same as loosing control, you cant control Africa, you can only control your response to it. I leave God at the car and go for a beer at the lodge instead, why not.