Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
the forest jagged and dense, the air thick with tsetse flies that made a mockery of our ex-
posed flesh. Hacking across scrub, or through impossibly tall elephant grass, we dodged
crocodiles disturbed from their slumber, and steered clear of the hippos who snorted in
the shallows. This was African wilderness untouched since Samuel Baker walked here all
those years ago; here the river was no longer paralysed by dams, no longer being bent to
the needs of man, straddled by bridges or plundered by fishermen. The country it fed was
not being razed to make way for plantation land, and the forests were not being destroyed
at the altars of industry. It was my African idyll and, for a few days at least, I was able to
forget thoughts of South Sudan and whatever else lay head.
We would have made the falls much sooner, but after a day it became clear that the
rangers themselves were holding us back. Francis had become a ranger simply because he
liked guns, while Maureen - constantly lagging behind - had signed up so that she could
spend her time among animals; but neither had fully appreciated the stamina it would take
to complete a trek like this. Julius had begun the journey eager to test his mettle in the
hope of one day becoming a full-blown ranger himself but, by the end of the second day,
he was recanting his former ambitions; Murchison Falls, he declared, was just too much
hard work. Nor was our other porter, George, in better spirits. On the third day, when we
came across the remains of an elephant trap lying in the bush, he announced that he, too,
had changed his mind: now he wanted to become a soldier and fight the rebels in South
Sudan, not a ranger whose only battle was against the 'honest' poachers working in the
park.
By the end of the third day we were close to Murchison Falls itself. Across the scrub we
could see a herd of over twenty giraffe, marching north to better grazing, while antelope
flitted in their shadows. At the head of the procession, Boston cast disparaging glances at
the rangers lagging behind.
'We should push on until the falls.'
I knew how aggravated he was. Only an hour earlier I had heard him barking at Maureen
to hurry up, telling her that she ought to be ashamed at wearing the Ugandan flag on her
uniform, but the truth was the heat was getting to me as well. It was near forty seven de-
grees, the tsetse flies were unbearable, and the thought of coaxing another twelve kilo-
metres out of the rangers today was just too much. Ignoring Boston's lament, I led the
rangers back to the riverside and, amidst yet more swarms of tsetse, we made camp.
In the morning, we made the decision to leave Maureen and Julius behind to make their
own way back to the ranger station, and pushed on through the heat. The bush seemed to
get thicker and thicker and the going was hard. Sometimes it was so steep we'd have to
shimmy up or down vines, doing awkward impressions of Tarzan, the lord of the jungle
himself. Danger lurked at every step - one false move could result in a slip to the bottom
of a chasm filled with rattlesnakes.
