Laugh. That is all you can do really. Laugh and giggle as the back wheel of the bike slides out from under us every five meters and Guillaume deliberately explodes with girly screams in an attempt to make light of a muddy, slippery situation. Every time we saw a huge pool of mucky water we knew that we would probably end up diving face first into it – bike on top of us. There just is no point attempting to stay clean or steer clear.
This is how you tackle 73 km in six hours; with laughs and giggles, funny, girly screams and mud in your face. We had said fare thee well to the Ocean and was heading inland towards Kilimanjaro, but we did not see this one coming.
What was a difficult stretch of road a week ago turned into a mess of wet clay after the rains. Stuck in a pool of this mess, digging out the clay from between the wheels, the chain and your ears – with sticks – we had passed the point of worrying. Call it hysteria, call it good humour, call it what you may – it was our best experience since our departure.
By the end of the road a small man with an even smaller 50cc scooter, who helped us dig through our bespattered situation, gave us each an African ice lolly. Hastily eating the sugary, pink coldness, racing against the heat, we laughed some more, knowing that celebrating the end of a long day with this refreshing ice-cream, wrapped in newspaper, was just the beginning of another problem – an African stomach bug.
But, muddy faces, brewing stomach and tired bodies this is what it all boils down to – hard times, fun times it doesn’t matter, just laugh!