By Andy Stuart-Hill
Editor’s note: The Pioneer is happy to present the latest instalment in local resident Andy Stuart-Hill’s ongoing serialization of his overland trip from Cairo to Capetown, taken as a young man in 1954. When last we left off, Andy and company were in the northern reaches of the what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo, nearing the border of present day South Sudan…
Chapter 9: Natural Hazards
We had just gone over a very narrow bridge and creek and the ladies decided they needed a toilet stop. I went back over the bridge cleared an area with a big stick then retreated to a discreet distance to wait for them.
They seemed to take a long time, so I proceeded back over the bridge to see if they were OK. I then spotted them trying to make their way down to the creek to wash their hands. In a loud voice, I immediately yelled at them to stop and come back up to the road. Due to the very narrow opening in the canopy above the sun was shining down onto the warm rocks beside the creek – I had observed several snakes sunning themselves on these rocks and the ladies were heading straight into their midst (they had not seen the snakes at all). It could have been a tricky situation if one had been bitten as we were miles from any medical help.
Driving on, and passing through the village settlements of Irumo – Mongbwalu – Watsa – Faradje road we arrived at the frontier post of Aba. (Congo -Southern Sudan Border post). As luck would have it, the immigration officer had taken ill during the night and a bored junior official stamped our passports for permission to leave the Congo. Early next morning we are headed into the Southern Sudan on a dusty clay road.
Chapter 10: The Thorn Tree Incident
About 100 km further on the road north, we were again sitting on a mattress on the roof, enjoying the passing scenery, native villages, and the occasional animal.
We encountered many thorn trees with overhanging branches sweeping over us. Each time we yelled “Dooring booms” (thorn tree branches) we would bend down, turn our backs to let the branch pass over our protective leather jackets. However, on one occasion Basil looked up too soon to see if it was clear.
Unfortunately, in his upright position, an overhanging branch, full of thorns struck him in the face and snapped the branch. He said “I think I have a problem! There he was with a small branch, full of one-inch+ thorns stuck on his face. I immediately yelled for the truck to stop.
As I was the designated “first-aid” person, with the aid of a pair of pliers, the only tool available, I proceeded to remove the thorns one at a time. By a miracle, no thorn went into his eyes. Basil was very calm during the removal of thorns and the application of the antibiotic ointment. He carried the scars of this mishap for many years.
Chapter 11: The Mighty Nile
The further north we went the hotter it became. Juba was the next large town, and for a change we were able to have a good long, drawn-out meal as well as a shower.
Five of our travel companions decided that they had had enough of the road trip and abandoned the journey. They made their own way to the UK (the two ladies have decided to take the mail steamer to Khartoum and then on to London and wait for us there). I can’t blame them. Conditions for ladies were very problematic and would have become worse in the desert, this was no trip for them. We were not too unhappy to see them leave however as we were glad of the additional room in the bus.
As is usual in central Africa in towns the marketplace or ‘souk’ is the centre of all activity. it is amazing to see the variety of goods on display. What shook us, in particular, was the sight of tall 6 ft 6 inch+ warriors (the Dinka tribe) dressed in no more than a string of beads and a spear. It was amusing the see properly dressed young English girls tinkling their bicycle bells as they passed. A total contrast – naked warriors and pale totally covered English ladies smiling and waving as they went by.
At Juba we had our first view of the mighty Nile river. At this stage it is a comparatively small river and was interesting to see how it increased in size as it flowed north. We left Juba in the afternoon and travelled through flat, completely uninteresting country on the way to Malakal, normally only convoys of vehicles are allowed to travel on the road owing to bandit incidents.
In the very early hours of the morning whilst keeping the driver company, I spotted two tawny shapes in the truck headlights. When we came closer, we discovered that they were two hungry lions out hunting. They continued to walk in front of us and were quite unconcerned about our hooting and shouting. It was quite impossible to pass them as they were occupying the only two available tracks between the tall grasses, eventually, they moved off into the bush up and we were able to speed up. No sooner had we got into our stride again when the road suddenly deteriorated into loose gravel. In a matter of seconds, we had plowed to a shuddering halt.
Upon investigation, we discovered that the road was actually a causeway being built across a swamp – about 100 yards ahead it disappeared into crocodile-infested waters, a part of the Bandingilo National Park. This was our introduction to the Sudd – a vast area of swamp and reeds covering a huge area.
The Sudd Basin is nearly 320 km wide by 400 km long across and spans the swampy lowland region of South Sudan. It is drained by the headstreams of the White Nile. It can only be safely crossed for a brief period at certain times of the year (which we had planned to do.)
Naturally, the whole party had to help to get back the bus on the solid road again. We were a very reluctant work party as the memory of the lions, a mile or so back, was no encouragement to get on with the job. Our torches spent more time shining into the veld than the wheels.
At 7 o’clock we were ready to move again. We found and appropriated two abandoned long strong planks which were to be very useful in the desert later. After about 10 hours and a 250-mile deviation, we arrived at the other side of the swamp.
At this time, we were having some difficulty with meals – all that was available in the eating houses was goat stew and bread. The latter was in the form of an oversized pancake which seems to contain quite a large percentage of sand, however when one side was open, and the interior filled with tomatoes and onions – it was quite filling.
Stay tuned for the next instalment in Andy’s incredible journey in a future edition of the Pioneer…