...that ends well

June

So the next morning I and a couple of folks who had been at the goat roast decided to go adventuring.  After breakfast we enlisted the help of the only person in my village who has a car to drive us up into the mountains so that we can enjoy the scenery.  I offer to pay, but he insists on driving for free if I cover the gas.  So we load up, put gas in the car and away we go.  The road going up to the mountains was pretty rough, but we were able to make it.  Though, once we got up into the mountains it was a different story.  We were in an all wheel drive station wagon, but really we should have been in a hummer.  The road we absolutely ridiculous and our driver was quickly demonstrating the fact that he had not owned the car for long.  We would try to get him to stop so we could get out and push before he entered a bad spot so the car would be less likely to get stuck, but he would just gun the engine and plow right in.  Then we would get stuck and have to push him out.  This happened at least a dozen times.  We even suggested that maybe we turn around and go back, but it seems that his pride was hurt a little at the suggestion that he couldn't get us there, and we really did want to reach the valley down the other side of the mountain pass, so we pushed on.  After a lot of grunting, sweating, playing in the mud and pushing, we finally arrived.  A beautiful view of an incredibly green valley made all the struggles worth it.  Only way off in the distance could you see any sign of people.  A small hut was tucked in among the rolling hills some three or four miles away on the other side of the valley.  It was so amazing to have this little Shangrala of rolling hills, multiple little streams and waterfalls, giant mahoganies just 30 miles from me.  The rest of the landscape in my area is flat and grassy.  There are some trees, but because people cut them down for firewood, few of the trees get very big.  But here in this valley we were surrounded by a huge thick forest of giant trees, impenetrable stands of bamboo, and mountains rising up on all sides.  So we marveled and marveled.  Slowly we made our way to the village on the other side of the valley and meet Fr. Richard, a friend of mine.  We feasted on some of the largest and sweetest lemons, oranges, and mangoes I have ever had.  Even the lemons were as sweet as candy.  It was absolutely amazing, but our day light was running out, so we turned around and headed for home.

Again we played in the mud pushing and grunting, heaving and hauling, and finally made it to the apex of our mountain pass.  After this it was all down hill, but not in one day.  Our prideful driver wouldn't let us get out and guide him in a particularly narrow part of the road and we wound up in a ditch.  The car had slid off into a small stream bed that the rain had cut right along the road.  For over an hour we fought and struggled to get this car out of the stream.  Eventually we had to lift the back end of the car up, slide it onto the road and then get in front and push the car, very carefully mind you, onto the road.  If we went a little too far then we would be in the ditch on the other side of the road.  Success!  We finally got our little wagon out of the ditch and were excited to not be spending the night in the mountains in the middle of nowhere.  Or at least we thought.  The car wouldn't start.  I don't know why or how getting stuck in a ditch would cause the car to not start, but it seemed that it did.

So now what?  What could we do?  We were in the middle of the mountains, its about an hour from sun down and we have a car that won't start.  So we send the fastest of us running back to the village to ask Fr. Richard for some help.  Fortunately Fr. Richard was a little better equipped than we were and so he brought his big Land Rover to the rescue.  It was getting too late to do any repairs by the time he arrived, so he loaded us up and took us back to the mission with him.  After we got back we were offered a hot bath, dinner and clean beds.  We came to him begging like a troop of raggedy vagabonds and Fr. Richard treated us likes kings.  It was probably the best hospitality I have ever experienced in Africa.  The next morning we were treated to freshly baked bread, omelets and hot tea.  We got a few more mangoes and lemons and with a mechanic driving we headed for the car.

The car was still there in one piece, and nothing was stolen from it.  I was a little surprised but happily impressed never the less.  So with the mechanic and three engineers we were finally able to diagnose the problem.  It turns out the driver, who is openly cursing me at this point, had failed to get his gas pump repaired properly.  It seems that it had been replaced once, but the fuse that protects the gas pump had not been replaced at all, instead it had been jumped.  This of course will get you to the nearest town where you can buy a proper fuse, but unfortunately this was not the case.  Instead, the 25 cent fuse was not put in and so now the $60 pump will need to be replaced... again.  So with no chance of getting all that in the middle of the mountains, Fr. used his Land Rover to pull us to the nearest village on the other side of the mountains.  Slowly, and with a lot of jerking and stopping we finally made the 15 mile journey to the next village.  Wow, what an ordeal!  Fr. Richard couldn't take us any further as he has his own program for the day, so we pool all the money we have on us and give it to Fr. for the food, lodging, and fuel to pull us this far.  His hospitality warranted more, but that was all the money we had.  Our driver, of course, felt no need to pitch in and went so far as to demand that I pay for another tow to town where he could get the car repaired.  I wasn't so agreeable to say the least.  So with a temper high and no money, I just started walking.  Its 22 km from there to my village and I wasn't about to sit and listen to the driver piss and moan about how this was all my fault.  My friends and I walked the whole way to my village.  At some point in the trek the driver passed us on a motorcycle and took time to try and argue with me some more.  I was getting fed up to the point that I could have just about kicked his face in right there.  I wasn't the one driving, I told him to let us get out and push or turn us around and not go any further, I wasn't the one who jerry-rigged the gas pump fuse, and I wasn't the one who's pride took us all the way out to BFE in a vehicle that wasn't up to snuff.  I and my friends had already payed twice what it should cost to get his car to town and repaired and he still had all the fuel that I bought in his tank.  I couldn't comprehend how this SOB could continue to blame me for his mistakes.  But I guess logic doesn't matter, what mattered to him was that I was white and consequently rich and so obviously I should pay.  So again, I started walking, without kicking his face in.

Good God!  What an adventure!  We made it home safe and sound that night and my friends were able to go their separate ways the next morning so I guess all is well that ends well right?