KerrrRUNCH

Keerrunch…..Kerplang…….screech…. went the exhaust as is released its hold on the underside of the car. And so we were stranded on a zillion mile-long dirt track, sun setting, and no-idea of how far remained of our journey.

Obviously, during the 7 hour maintenance session prior to our significantly delayed departure, no-one thought to look under the car – concentrating primarily on fixing the electric windows. That, and rearranging the engine so that when we came to top up the oil, it took 6 mechanics to find where to pour it into, and one poor guy to spend 20 minutes blowing the oil in through a pipe.

Even with bits falling off the car and our constant fretting over the time, our driver Eric managed to keep cheery and still professed to like his friend who had sold him the car the day before! Once we arrived and there was semi-cool beer awaiting us, all was fine. Eric still had to make the return journey, and, after a coke and a piece of wire to secure the exhaust, he was off - still with a smile on his face.

Why do African journeys make such funny tales? You don’t hear people sniggering about the trials and tribulations of traveling on the Northern Line, the difficulties of finding the connecting train on platform 500 at Birmingham New Street when the first train arrives late on platform 1. But somehow, here, there is always a way to laugh at traveling hiccups (albeit usually after the event).