‘Quickly! There’s a storm brewing!’

We’d survived one crossing of the lake in a borrowed fishing canoe (with a few long minutes of going nowhere fast, in circles) and enjoyed a nice picnic, this time with quality home-made hamburgers AND mayonnaise (mmmmm); now, with rumbles of thunder approaching, it was time to make a hasty retreat back across to safety.

Slight problem. Our boats have sunk. Instead of bobbing gently at the shore, our boats now nestled onto the bilharzia filled, sandy lake bottom.


Fifteen minutes of baling later, the boats were more-or-less floating, and the storm was a km or two closer. The air was tense as we set off. One boat, nervous of the crossing, over-rode the amateur paddler and headed bang back into the shore. With the assistance of a local fisherman, the boat was coaxed back in the right direction, and our little fleet began to glide to the centre of the lake.

Paddle paddle paddle. Bale bale bale bale. Paddle bale bale BALE!

Despite the fountains that had sprung up in the sides of the boats, threatening to out-speed the baler (me) we made it across.

Think the British Clinic will experience a mini-rush on requests for bilharzia tests once the wormies get a chance to develop….