Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
we crossed the boundary line, Boston dug his elbow into my side and gestured for me to
look up - but he needn't have bothered: I had already seen the grotesque, decapitated head
sitting proudly on the edge of the trail. Once, it had belonged to a buffalo. Flies swarmed
the sockets where its eyes used to be.
'It can be dangerous in there,' Francis said as we passed. 'Just yesterday that buffalo
charged a ranger and injured one of the villagers inside the park. And only a week ago,
a lone elephant killed four villagers. They can do that, when they're not part of a herd. It
turns them bad.'
With that, Francis began the march again, leaving Boston and me to stare at the decap-
itated head. 'I wonder what happened to the body,' I muttered.
'You should have learnt by now,' Boston said, shaking his head. 'These Bunyoro have
eaten it.' He paused. 'Don't look so surprised, Lev. There's good meat in a buffalo. Idi
Amin treated this place like his moving larder. That's what the locals do too.'
Then it was off, into the wild.
The contrast with the Uganda we had been trekking through could not have been plainer.
The bush was thick and green, and before we had walked a few steps we were treading in
elephant dung, and there was an overpowering smell of ammonia, a sure sign that wildlife
was close to hand, marking its territory everywhere we trod. Almost immediately we were
greeted by the sight of bush buck flitting away, and before we had stopped for a first break
we had seen warthog cross our path, and the majestic necks of giraffes bending to graze
from the uppermost branches. Down by the river, with the sounds of Karuma Falls now
having faded completely away, we heard the unmistakeable grunt of hippopotami. Ventur-
ing down the bank to fill our water bottles, I saw the grey hummocks of several lurking in
the shallows only ten metres away. As I marvelled at them, Maureen idly filled her mug
from the river and crouched as she drank. It was only then that I properly heard what the
rangers were saying: hippo meat, they all agreed, was very tasty indeed.
Boston gave me a knowing look, and then we took off again.
This was the restorative I needed after the bleak walk north from Jinja. For ten kilo-
metres we hacked our way through steaming, sweaty forest, until we broke for the first
time on the beach near a river eddy. Julius took delight in telling us that this was the exact
place he came to fish, and, though he was keen to stress that he had a licence to catch fish
inside the park, Boston was under no such illusions. 'His licence will let him catch a fish a
day,' he said, 'but he'll be taking more. Trust me, Lev. All these Bunyoro are on the take.'
It took three more days to push north to the falls. Along the way, we camped wild by
the banks of the river, or in poachers' camps deep in the bush. With no food except that
we could carry on our backs, and no water except the Nile's frothy offerings, it was the
most visceral experience I had had on the expedition. We spent the days in agonising bliss,
