In the sand - Part 10

Somewhere between Lisala and Mbandaka - It is the seventeenth day of this trip, and I’m starting to get down in the dumps. For the last four days and nights we have been stuck in the sand. In fact, we got stuck only five hours after leaving Lisala, and almost one hundred hours later we are still here.

It is quiet on deck, since there are no passengers. The staff is busy trying to get us out. The only other people on board are some soldiers, who are on their way to a military base with their wives and babies. We seem to get along quite well.

A soldier invites me to sleep under his mosquito net, literally in his bed along with his son and wife. The ladies have cooked for me twice. But we can hardly engage in any conversation: their French is poorer than mine.

Gone too soon
After just a few hours of sleep, the soldiers suddenly take off. Their boss has lost his patience, and has ordered them to return to another base late at night. There is no chance to say more than bon voyage Then a staff member shows me my new sleeping place: the wheel house. This is better than yesterday, when I slept on top of the ship’s freezer, in the open air.
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The next day is boring; we try to pull the barge from the sand, to no avail. I’m losing faith that we will be leaving soon, but staff members assure me that we will sail tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the assistant captain offers me a sleeping place next to a young lady, and when I decline he offers to share his comfortable room with him. At least I have found friends on this new boat quickly enough.