My son recently asked me to tell him a few animal stories from my travels. About 100 miles separate Nyala, Sudan and Bomba (now Birao), Central African Republic. Below are three experiences that my brother Utz, a fellow traveler named Phoenix from Tanzania and I had crossing this expanse.
1) We could not find motorized transportation south from Nyala to Bomba and so we had to walk. On our way from the Sahel to the Sudanian Savanna of Northern C.A.R. we had to cross 7 rivers that required us to take off our backpacks and traverse waist-to-chest deep water. In the second or third stream I was in front of my brother when I heard him cry out to hurry up to the other side. Once he joined me he said he saw a large snake slither near me in the water and was afraid it was going to bite me. Our understanding is that all of the water snakes in that area are poisonous so it’s a good thing I didn’t get bitten 😉
2) Unfortunately, I was a fool (it was scorching hot – 115º in the shade) and I chose to wear my sandals at some point. As is typical in those situations, I stubbed by toe. As sores on your feet tend to do when carrying 70+ pound backpacks through unsanitary environs, my foot became infected. As there was nothing else to do but walk on it, after a few days I was worn down by my sickness and became delirious and combative. At one point Utz got me so angry I stormed off alone on a different path and told them to leave me alone as I would find my own way.
I woke up on the side of the road just as it was getting dark to the image of this man in white running at me yelling and screaming and waving his machete in the air. Turns our his village was looking for me as my brother had warned them that I was ill and lost. This nice man brought me to his home and nursed me back to health over the next day and a half. Upon leaving, his family gathered their choice cucumbers and melons to share with us – their “brothers from across the sea who had returned home.” They had no meat in their village as the average Sudanese in the area grow their own crops and have a family income of less than $50/year.
After expressing our gratitude for their amazing hospitality, we walked another 20 miles or so and came across a small gathering of huts towards the end of the day. A young woman was there alone and asked us if we wanted to rest in the shade. We happily accepted and spied a chicken running around. She saw our gaze and asked if we were hungry. We wondered if she could make us something to eat. She handed Phoenix a knife and started cooking. Utz and I had to catch the bird and then Phoenix showed us how to cut off its head without destroying the meat. The woman plucked the feathers, cut it up and tossed it in the pot all within a few minutes. She told us that the $5 we gave her for the meal was more than she would make in a month and she apologized that she didn’t have any more meat to feed us.
3) Just after crossing the border into C.A.R. we came across a heard of water buffalo (or something like that with huge horns). They scared the hell out of me and I could barely push my way through them.
Before I was even half way into the them I heard this voice call out in perfect British English; “Hello sir! Sir! Hello! Can I talk to you?” It was jarring in the extreme. Here I was worried about being trampled in a stampede and I look over to see a thin young man waving his walking stick and speaking as though he had just arrived from a visit to London. To complete the surprise his all-black outfit included bright color bands below his knees that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. (Look closely at the clothing of the men in the center of the photo below.)
Turns out he was one of the Umm Bororo people. He told us that his tribe herd their cattle over thousands of miles crossing 7 nations. Their circuit can take years to complete. They do not worry about borders as they have traditionally migrated long before colonists erected artificial boundaries. They are known throughout the lands they visit as happy people who bring news and trade.
The most amazing thing to me was when I found out that this guy has visited a USAID station and studied English for 6 weeks about 10 years before. The only other time he spoke it was when he ran into a British traveler 3 years prior. He was excited to be able to practice with us. We spent a few hours with him and I am convinced he spoke as well as many natives. He said he knew over 100 languages fluently and I have zero reason to doubt him.
As we were leaving he offered us a gourd filled with this warm white liquid. Having encountered some seriously stomach-turning food, I looked at my brother with great trepidation. Turns out it was milk from one of his cows and it was pure ambrosia. Our host relayed to us that his people can exist on nothing but this milk for weeks at a time as it is so healthy. To this day, I remember the warmth it brought to my frail form.
Bonus: We are food
We made it as far as Lisala (at the time Zaire now Democratic Republic of the Congo). Both Utz and I fel ill with Malaria and because neither of us was healthy, we poisoned ourselves with the medicines that were supposed to help us. Utz got better first and tried to get us onto a boat down the river to Kinsasha. Unfortunately I was bleeding from my eyes and ears and the captain refused us as he was afraid that if I died on his boat he would end up in jail. Both of us eventually recovered fully and decided that we had experienced what we had come to Africa for and that it was time to head home. Little did we know that the most dangerous journey was before us.
We made our way onto a barge exactly like the one in the picture above. At this point we had met up with another traveler named Dale who was from Seattle. The trip down the river was glorious and slow giving us ample time to swim beside the boat. Everyone onboard thought we were crazy but we didn’t mind: the days were hot and the water was cool.
There was a young man on the front of the ship that came aboard with 30 of his goats. He was traveling to market where he would sell them. Just after Dale and I had gotten out of the water one afternoon, we heard a loud splash at the front of the boat and saw everyone pointing at the water. This guy had fallen off and was floundering around.
I saw him go under and frantically looked for him. He popped up right in front of me and I reached my hand out to grab him. He was easily within my reach and Dale had my other hand. I stretched to him and met his eyes. All I could see was shear panic. Rather than reach for me… he splayed his arms out sideways to try and catch a breath… and then he was gone.
Both Dale and I ran to the back of the barge and dove in… but we never saw him again.
When we finally got back on board we were confronted by an irate captain. He was yelling and screaming at us calling us insane and stupid and told us he was going to kick us off his boat at the next port. We were so confused. We were trying to save this guy. We didn’t understand how people could live next to this huge body of water all their life and not know how to swim.
Turns out, he did know how to swim. It was a crocodile that was dragging him down. The captain said one almost got us before we got back on board.
Oh!
