Tag Archives: Zambia
Naked bathers, stone tools, the eleventh tuna sandwich and the last straw
Rising with the sun I slide out of our tent feet first, past the sailcloth ‘Ratbags’ containing all our (present) worldly goods. At the far end of the campsite stand three women, calling at us. They lapse into silence and … Continue reading
A spot of welding, a leopard and a mission
He’s looking worried. It was meant to be an overnight stop – but there’s no way we’ll fit everything in and reach Kalambo in time to pitch camp by daylight. We have to stay another night, but not at Thorn … Continue reading
Harrison Fording in Zambia. (Archaeologists head north, the hard way)
Wet vehicle batteries aren’t good news. As any fule kno. But it’s not always easy to keep them dry. When crossing a river, for example, at a little too fast a pace. It’s our first river – unless you count … Continue reading
That road – dejà viewed. Part 4: the journey’s end.
The man who’s driving this long and just-beginning-to-be-winding road has a very soothing manner. On another day I might – just might – find Fegan’s manner too soothing. As in irritatingly slow. Tonight, his aura of calm is perfect. I sink into the … Continue reading
It’s somewhere, not nowhere – and we’ve been there. [Part 3 of that road journey]
The darkness I feared is falling, but we’re no longer straddling that hot, narrow, frightening stretch of road. We’ve driven a few hundred metres. The distance from peril to safety. We hope. Hordes of children gather. Women appear, suspicious, but inquisitive. … Continue reading
On the road to nowhere . Part 2.
Eleven o’clock. The heat increasing with every passing minute. I can hardly bear to think of time. There should be another five hours of road before us, but now? God only knows. A stunned-looking Archaeo-man pulls out his cellphone. I … Continue reading
Halfway to nowhere. Part 1
The calls of night-jar and owl punctuate the stillness of the hours before dawn. Four in the morning and the man who lights the fires under the hot water boilers has been and gone. I lie, wishing for sleep, knowing … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 