Dag 27: Oor die ewenaar!

(English translation below)

Dag 27: Oor die ewenaar!
 
Die herbergie waar ons geslaap het is maar vuilerig. En die spinasie (as dit spinasie was) en straathoender (as dit hoender was) van gisteraand het my van vroeg af op. Ek stap in my slaapbroek uit om skoon water uit die motorfiets se kantsak te haal, en word begroet deur vol-uniform en blinkgestewelde Kongolese soldate wat hulle AK47's skoonmaak, laai, oorhaal, toets. Toe ek my woorde vind is al wat ek uitkry 'n teleurstellende Bonjour.
 
Ontbyt bestaan uit swart koffie, 'n malariapil en maagmedisyne. Ek herpak my bande-agter-op-die-motorfiets legkaart en ons kom 8:00 weg. Vandag gaan lank wees.
 
Die pad kronkel die grootste gedeelte van die dag deur oerwoud. Dis weereens 'n baie goeie teerpad. Ons mae wil werk, maar die plantegroei is só dig mens sal eers 'n spasietjie met 'n panga moet oopkap. Ons knyp. Dink aan iets anders.
 
Ons moet eet. Stop aan die kant van die pad en drink water. Weereens die stilte en die voëls. Hier's 'n rustigheid wat moeilik is om te beskryf.
 
Net ná 13:00 kom ons by die hoeveelste padblokkade. Dis 'n paar dromme in die pad met 'n tou oorgespan. Hulle laat ons deur sonder om uit die koelte op te staan, en ons gaan stop 'n entjie verder voor 'n winkeltjie om iets te ete te kry.
 
Skielik drie mans by ons. Polisie sonder uniform. Hulle wil ons paspoorte sien. De Witt vra hoe moet ons weet hulle is Polisie? Die een draai om en daar staan Immigration op sy rug. Hulle beduie een van ons moet saamstap, daar's 'n probleem met ons visums. Ek stap saam. Die leier sê ons visums het verval en beduie na 'n datum op die visum. Ek weet hy praat nonsens maar wonder hoe ek in Frans, sonder om die manne aanstoot te gee, vir hulle gaan verduidelik. Ek beduie dat ek na die visums wil kyk. Wys vir hom die vervaldatum (hy het na die datum van uitreiking gekyk.) O, sê hy. Hulle hou my vir 'n uur in 'n kamertjie op 'n hopie gebreekte plastiekstoele terwyl hy ons details. Noukeurig. Neer. Skryf.
 
Daarna kan ons eet. Die naaste aan kos wat ons kon kry is Coke en Red Bull en koekies en chips. Dis wárm. Ons ry.
 
Volgende stop is Makoua, waar die ewenaar deurloop. Daar móét ons petrol kry. Al die pompe tot nou toe was droog.
 
Die ewenaar is 'n tweespoor grondpaadjie tussen twee reuse goewermentsgeboue, die een meer verweer as die ander. Daar is 'n monumentjie met 'n aardbol en die Kongo se leuse op. Vrede. Werk en nog iets. Ons eet die res van ons koekies en chips. Drink water. Neem fotos. Soek petrol.
 
Makoua het nie petrol nie. 'n Jong man beduie hy kan vir ons 10 liter petrol, in bottels, kry. Hy sweer dis skoon maar ons het darem ons filters. Hy help ons ook om brood in die dorpie gekoop te kry. Ons het genoeg petrol vir 230km. Die volgende dorp is 200 km weg. Ons ry stadig verder.
 
Die woud word digter. De Witt se derm het bedaar maar myne kerm nog. Skielik sien ons drie klein gorillatjies en hulle ma oor die pad hardloop! Reg voor ons verby!
 
Ons kom 'n uur ná donker in Ouesso aan. Elf ure op die pad gewees vandag. Beide die motorfietse en ons lywe is op die laaste dampe petrol.
 
Om deur Afrika te ry is nie vakansie nie.
 
Day 27: Crossing the Equator!
 
The inn where we slept is quite filthy. And the spinach (if it was spinach) and street chicken (if it was chicken) from last night have had me up since early morning. I step out in my pyjamas to fetch clean water from the motorcycle's side pocket and am greeted by fully-uniformed and shiny-booted Congolese soldiers cleaning, loading, cocking, and testing their AK47s. When I finally find my words, all I can manage is a disappointing "Bonjour."
 
Breakfast consists of black coffee, a malaria pill, and stomach medicine. I repack my tire configuration on the back of the motorcycle, and we hit the road at 8:00. Today will be a long one.
 
The road winds through the jungle for most of the day. It's once again a very good asphalt road. Our stomachs want to work, but the vegetation is so dense that you'd need a machete to create a clear enough space. We hold out. Think about something else.
 
We need to eat. We stop on the side of the road and drink water. Again, the silence and the birds. There's a serenity here that's hard to describe.
 
Just after 13:00, we encounter yet another roadblock. There are a few barrels in the road with a rope strung across. They let us pass without getting up from the shade, and we stop a little further at a shop to get something to eat.
 
Suddenly, three men approach us. Police without uniforms. They want to see our passports. De Witt asks how we can be sure they're the police. One of them turns around, and Immigration is written on his back. They signal that one of us must walk with them; there's an issue with our visas. I walk with them. The leader says our visas have expired and points to a date on the visa. I know he's talking nonsense but wonder how I'm going to explain it to them in French without upsetting them. I gesture that I want to look at the visas and I show him the expiration date (he had looked at the date of issue). Oh, he says. They keep me in a room and make me sit on a stack of broken plastic chairs for an hour while they. Record. Our. Details. Precisely.
 
After that, we can eat. The closest thing to food we could find is Coke, Red Bull, cookies, and chips. It's hot. We continue riding.
 
The next stop is Makoua, on the equator. Here, we absolutely must get petrol. All the pumps we've encountered so far were dry.
The equator is a two-track dirt road between two government buildings, one more weathered than the other. There's a small monument with a globe and the Congo's motto on it. Peace. Work and something else. We eat the rest of our cookies and chips. Drink water. Take photos. Look for petrol.
 
Makoua doesn't have petrol. A young man gestures that he can get us 10 litres of petrol in bottles. He swears it's clean, but we still have our filters. He also helps us buy bread in the village. We have enough petrol for 230km. The next village is 200km away. We continue slowly.
 
The forest becomes denser. De Witt's stomach has settled, but mine is still churning. Suddenly, we see three little gorillas and their mother running across the road right in front of us!
 
We arrive in Ouesso an hour after dark. We've been on the road for eleven hours today. Both the motorcycles and our bodies are running on fumes.
 
To ride through Africa is no vacation.

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