ROAD TO DAMBOLAMADZI- Muyange Nsefu

CHAPTER TWO.

The next turn came up immediately after the tunnel.

The convoy had been in the dimly lit passage for almost three minutes, but at the pace Yange liked to travel it was hard to figure out how far they had actually gone. When they descended into the underpass they were just nearing the outskirts of Sinda District. Scrutinising the rear view mirror as they left, it was fair to say they weren't that much further out. Everything else; the temperature, the time of day, the weather, all seemed exactly like it had been before they ventured into the tunnel. Wezi was not sure what she was expecting of course, but it certainly didn't feel like they're anywhere new.

The tunnel itself had been similarly underwhelming, especially considering the importance Yange seemed to place on it. In fact the only thing of true interest since they passed through was something Yange said once they hit the halfway mark. As the tunnel's mouth loomed towards them, Yange picked up the CB Radio transceiver, and issued a casual warning to the convoy. The message itself was straightforward, his choice of words however was— curious.

Wezi decided to ask him about it.

WEZI: "Yange, just a second ago, when you told us the next turn was coming up. Why did you use the word "trap"?"

YANGE: "Hmm?"

WEZI: "I have it in my notes. You said, 'we're coming to the end soon, first little trap's coming up. Our next turn is sharp left as we leave. Look out for it.' Is there any particular reason you used the word 'trap?'"

YANGE: "Oh yea! Just one of those things, y'know. The guy who wrote all the original logs to the road to Dambolamadzi, he liked to think the road would try and trick you into making a wrong turn. Small roads off large highways, roads obscured from view, sharp turns like this one."

WEZI: "He thought the road was trying to deceive him?"

YANGE: "Yes ma'am! Pretty much. I gotta say I agree with the guy."

By this point, they had taken the offending corner and the next right a little further on. Wezi couldn't help but feel that Yange was reading a great deal into what was, essentially, an abrupt turn in an ordinary road. The level of conspiracy he was able to place behind such a simple thing, going as far as to ascribe some mischievous quality to the tarmac itself— it was hard to take seriously.

In fact, Wezi was starting to wonder less about whether Yange could convince her this place called Dambolamadzi was even real, and more about whether she would ever be able to convince him that it wasn't. Perhaps this story would be less about where a magic roadway went after a few zigzagging turns, and more about where the human mind can go if it invested too heavily in an idea. To his credit Yange had noted Wezi's cynicism, he even seemed to welcome it, but if their current surroundings were supposed to convince her, then he was going to find her more cynical than he anticipated.

Yange kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road. Any attempt at an interview received a pleasant but curt response. He was not being evasive, his attention was just elsewhere. Before Wezi knew it, 40 minutes had gone by without Yange speaking a word. It seemed like a large part of the road to Dambolamadzi involved driving in complete silence. Once again, Wezi was not sure what she expected, but it had certainly not been an earth shattering start.

At least it gave her time to type up her notes.

YANGE: "PatientMan to all cars. We stop here."

An uneventful hour and a half had passed since the convoy had left the tunnel. Wezi didn't notice Yange pick up the receiver, but before she knew it the Land Cruiser had pulled up at the side of the road, leaving a large space behind them for the rest of the convoy to park up. The buildings were getting few and far between now, it wouldn't be long until they were in the desert proper. With this in mind, Wezi assumed Yange was simply stopping to let everyone drink up.