Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 8: The Canyon and the Grave

The next morning I awoke in my dorm bed and began to wonder if it had all been a dream. I couldn't remember how we eventually found the hostel. With a fuzzy head, I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the toilet.

"Morning Will," I heard a voice call out.

"Ugh, morning." I tried to remember the person's name, but he didn't look familiar.

"Howzit Will?" asked another grinning stranger, striding into the dorm.

"Feeling a bit rough," I said.

A few minutes later I emerged from the toilet and walked down the hall towards the common room, passing two girls and a guy along the way.

"Morning Will."

"Howzit Will?"

"Rough night, hey Will?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. How did everyone know my name? I'd never been this popular in my life, and I was sure I'd never met any of these people before. Entering the common room, I was greeted once again by name, this time by Brett. With my vision blurry, he looked exactly like a bulldog.

"You're lucky he didn't think you were a robber, bru." he said, "He would have shot you."

I hesitated for a moment, "You know about that?"

Brett smiled. "The barking dogs woke most of us, but you woke the rest bru when you came in babbling about the gun."

"We did?" I couldn't remember any of it. In fact, I couldn't remember anything after the gun incident.

"Ja, you told everyone about it. You were cracking up everyone, bru." He slapped his leg. "I can't believe you pissed on Jerry."

#

At breakfast, Jerry and I chatted with yet another guest who already knew us from the night before, but unlike most of the guests he was a local. His name was Gilbert.

"I was even baptized in the Old Vic," Gilbert said. "It's a local pub now, but it used to be a church. If you guys want, I'll give you a tour of the area. You don't have to pay me, just cover my petrol."

It was too good an offer to refuse. We spent the entire day with Gilbert. Jerry's guidebook described the region as a "land of streams and waterfalls, endless views, giant plantations of pine and eucalyptus, and historic gold-mining towns." We saw it all in one afternoon.

No one should do that.

I'm prone to carsickness, which is why I graciously accepted the front seat. Jerry said we could switch on the way back, which sounded more than fair. If I was going to get carsick, I'd rather have it happen on the way home. A few minutes into the journey, I wished I'd taken the back seat.

The only way to see it all in one afternoon was to drive fast – very fast. This was ludicrous, especially considering the mountain roads were often narrow and winding, and occasionally we drove along cliff edges with no barrier.

Gilbert was nonplused. I clung to the underside of the seat with my right hand and the door armrest with my left. My fingers soon ached from the death grip I had on each.

"Are you all right, bru?"Gilbert asked.

"Umm, what's the speed limit, anyway?"

He laughed. "This is Africa. A speed limit is more of a suggestion."

My heart punched my chest and I punctured the fabric on the underside of my seat with my fingers when we came around a blind bend in the road to see a car coming at us head-on, overtaking a truck.