Rain

I distinctly remember complaining about the lack of water not even that long ago, and getting really worked up because of it and the problems it caused. Now these complaints seem completely unreasonable and out of place. Time has come to complain about too much water: rainy season!
So, I was driving from Ganda to Tchikuma this morning, despite the rain that had started around 2am. Weirdly enough for this time of the year it hadn’t stopped after just a few hours and actually looks like it’s going to keep going until the evening hours.
The holes on the road were all filled with water, but problems really started after around 15 km. There’s an area where the earth is yellow instead of red and turns into mud with the addition of only a few drops of water. The car started “dancing”, slipping, and finally stopped with one wheel half buried in mud. 4-wheel driving didn’t help to get us out and as there where only 2 of us traveling there wasn’t enough “man-force” to push the car. Finally we asked some kids from the nearby village to help and only a few minutes later a group of men on motorbikes came by. (one is rarely as happy to see people as when one is in trouble on an African road…). I actually knew one of the men, which helped cutting short the story-telling about where one is going and coming from, comments about the weather, the status of the road, who you’re working for, why you’re going where you are trying to go. They laughed about my shoes covered in mud (not that much more than the rest of me…) from jumping out of the car and trying to “evaluate” the situation, then they all started telling me the “best” way to get out of the hole. I believe this is a universal: men are intimately convinced that no woman can “really” drive and that it is their “mission” to teach any woman they meet, especially if she’s in trouble on the road. So I accepted my “inferior” position, smiled, said thank you and tried to do whatever they were telling me to do, providing it was doable (you can’t really go backwards and forwards at the same time…). They finally agreed on pushing the car forwards and while I pressed my foot on the accelerator, I closed my eyes, hoping the car wouldn't slip again and end up off the road, in the river. In between more discussions, shouts and “teachings”, the team effort actually seemed to work and the car was finally “freed”. I then listened patiently to each persons opinions about the road ahead and the chances of “making it”. Again I smiled, said thank you, finally got into the car, looked at my fellow traveler and we tacitly decided to drive back to Ganda and to leave it for a less “wet” day…