Saturday, December 10, 2005
Pushing the nightmare further back
Somewhere, of course, the hammer must fall, not because of gravity, but because chance does not have infinite patience and we are moving slowly in a vulnerable machine. As each intimidating country is declawed by familiarity and positive experience, the impassable road, the computer snatching bandits and the unspeakable are all pushed further back. Their deferred mass is now accumulated in Central Africa.
Our delay in Maiduguri kept us from being on the road south from N'gaundere on the three days of constant daytime banditry as conducted by Chadian rebels who, we are told, specifically dislike white Americans. That fruckus is three days old and the government has scattered forty foot soldiers along the hundreds of miles in some sort of response. It feels like we are being forced to take a far inferior road directly towards Douala. The Stingray has already dealt with a rocksolid underbelly punishing on the mountain tracks of the north, a speed bump jumping of Sean's creation and a full saturation of fine dust. With or without material possessions, we are all quite likely to cross this ruined central area of Cameroon; I fear for the Stingray.
In Cameroon, by some dam in the "extreme nord" we camped. I wonder if that will ever stop being a nerve wracking activity. Every thirty minutes I wake wide up, side rigid, peer through my tent screens, and squint, seeing nothing, sure that my rising will be outlasted by the robber's patience, sure that those were footfalls. Tuuli's screaming doesn't even wake me up-nor does a fire alarm-but a turning door knob or a compression of dead grass on small rocks will jolt me from sleep for a watchdog session. Tuuli abandons her outlying tent and curls into my shelter to escape her terrible dreams. She lies between me and the machete, which is bad; but now we have a dummy tent, which is good.
In cities, I am never so anxious when sleeping. Soon it may be necessary to incorporate guard duty into our camping-Sean favors knives and charging; I am all about a huge stack of throwing rocks and a cutlass of last resort. Possibly, none of this worry and preparation will have been necessary. Hopefully Central Africa will be a continuation of these delightful surprises.
Somewhere, of course, the hammer must fall, not because of gravity, but because chance does not have infinite patience and we are moving slowly in a vulnerable machine. As each intimidating country is declawed by familiarity and positive experience, the impassable road, the computer snatching bandits and the unspeakable are all pushed further back. Their deferred mass is now accumulated in Central Africa.
Our delay in Maiduguri kept us from being on the road south from N'gaundere on the three days of constant daytime banditry as conducted by Chadian rebels who, we are told, specifically dislike white Americans. That fruckus is three days old and the government has scattered forty foot soldiers along the hundreds of miles in some sort of response. It feels like we are being forced to take a far inferior road directly towards Douala. The Stingray has already dealt with a rocksolid underbelly punishing on the mountain tracks of the north, a speed bump jumping of Sean's creation and a full saturation of fine dust. With or without material possessions, we are all quite likely to cross this ruined central area of Cameroon; I fear for the Stingray.
In Cameroon, by some dam in the "extreme nord" we camped. I wonder if that will ever stop being a nerve wracking activity. Every thirty minutes I wake wide up, side rigid, peer through my tent screens, and squint, seeing nothing, sure that my rising will be outlasted by the robber's patience, sure that those were footfalls. Tuuli's screaming doesn't even wake me up-nor does a fire alarm-but a turning door knob or a compression of dead grass on small rocks will jolt me from sleep for a watchdog session. Tuuli abandons her outlying tent and curls into my shelter to escape her terrible dreams. She lies between me and the machete, which is bad; but now we have a dummy tent, which is good.
In cities, I am never so anxious when sleeping. Soon it may be necessary to incorporate guard duty into our camping-Sean favors knives and charging; I am all about a huge stack of throwing rocks and a cutlass of last resort. Possibly, none of this worry and preparation will have been necessary. Hopefully Central Africa will be a continuation of these delightful surprises.
3 Comments:
Son,
It is good to hear something more from you. Not all at certian your mom will enjoy this entry though. Hope you are near a phone soon. Love, Padre
It is good to hear something more from you. Not all at certian your mom will enjoy this entry though. Hope you are near a phone soon. Love, Padre
am enjoying these. keep the hammer up until tanzania. then we can sit on the beach and eat coconuts fried in spice and watch the hammer fall with impunity.
Yikes -- of course I don't think it is gravity or chance or whatever that accounts for your safe travel thus far. Too many coincidences. Too many near misses. May God give you protection. parson mom
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