Now I can see why this side is not good. There is a lugga ahead, and after the lugga is a really steep climb.

I don’t feel like attempting that climb, so I turn to my right and make my way through the fields and bushes to find the path I left.

That becomes the last helmet camera photo of the day, as my camera goes off.

After the lugga I make a steep climb out of the river, though thankfully not as steep as the other one. At the top I meet a man seated on a motorcycle at the edge of the lugga. I realise that he has been here for a while, watching me. He looks out of place, dressed in a patterned shirt tucked into his jeans, and with a pen in his pocket. I stop to greet him.

Of course he is really curious, and asks me a lot of questions. It’s obvious I have come by boat, because the path down there goes nowhere else. I give him a brief rundown of what I am about. He is a resident here, he tells me.

“Do you know somewhere I can camp?” I ask. “I need somewhere to just set up my tent for the night.”

“Yeah…” he is thinking… “I could let you camp near my house… I don’t know about food…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that at all! I have food, I just need somewhere secure to set up.”
“Maybe… There’s a place by the lake,” he says.

I immediately light up. “Oh yes! By the lake would be awesome!”
“There’s a place by the lake I could show you. We can go together.”

“What were you doing here?” I ask. “It kinda looks like you were just waiting for me!”

I find it quite curious that he was just seated up here.

“I usually come here to watch the people fetch water.” He says, getting all serious. “I really feel for my people and wish they had proper water supply, so they would not fetch water from the lugga. I’m looking up and down for ways to make this happen. So, I usually come here to watch them, and I feel for them. Sometimes I help them carry the water on my motorcycle.”

He leads me away, to show me where to camp for the night. I need to buy some water first, so he shows me the shops. There’s a bit of excitement when the people see my bike. My camera was off, but don’t worry, I will pass by the shops tomorrow morning, and you will get to see Moite centre. We leave the centre, and my guide leads to yet another lake shore. There are some stone buildings under construction near the shore, with a dilapidated barbed wire fence around them.

“This is a politician’s hotel. He is still working on it.”

Next to the unfinished hotel is another building where the workers stay, obviously. And near the broken fence is a toilet. The guy looks around wondering which spot might be good to set up a tent.

“Here is ok,” I say. It’s about fifty metres from the lake. The ground is flat. There’s a toilet nearby… Perfect!

He calls over one of the workers, and tells him “This is my friend. He needs somewhere to camp for the night. Please let him camp here.” The worker has no problem with that and goes back to his business.

“What’s your name?” I ask my newly acquired guide.

“David,” he says. “Mtetezi wa wanyonge,” he adds. “I fight for the rights of weak people.”

I tell him my name. He leaves, after promising to come and check up on me in the morning.

I take off my gear, rehydrate and chill for a while.

It will be dark in less than two hours. I walk around looking for firewood, which is not easy to come by near the lake. I do manage to get enough. I also get some stones that will make up my fireplace. The workers stop working for the day. They bathe in the lake before going up to their building. I get the feeling that they are a family. There’s a woman and a child. They set up two large tents outside the building. I take that as a cue to set up mine too. I set up the inner mesh only without the rain sheet over it. I really don’t expect it to rain tonight. The guys uphill also don’t seem to expect rain, their tents have no rain sheets.

Ready for the night. I relax, camera at hand, waiting for the sunset, which proves to be magnificent! The guys uphill have put some chairs outside to watch the sunset too. And me. They are also watching this curious lone vagabond, and they have the best view ever on their perch.

Sun set, It’s time to take a bath and settle in for the night. I take off my clothes, remaining with only my boxer, and walk down to the lake, where I take off everything and dip into the cold water as clothed as how I was born. I hope the spectators still seated outside uphill have bad eyesights. The water is soothing, cleansing, cooling, refreshing… Anam Ka’alokol embraces me in a healing hug.

I light a fire, bring out my food and cook dinner and some tea.

I get into my tent for the night. I still can’t communicate with my people. I have received some worried messages, but I can’t send out any messages from my end. The last time they heard from me I was getting on anything that floats. I keep trying, and one lone message finally sneaks through and gets delivered.

I find myself awake at night, and above me is a wondrous sight, the black sky gloriously decked out with bright sparkling stars. I’m happy I’m able to soak in this pleasant sight from the comfort of the inside my mesh tent. I fall back asleep with a satisfied smile on my face.

I wake up again, with a frown on my face. Something wet touched me! It does again…. And again!!

Rain!

Shit!

Sheet!

Rain sheet! I did not put up my rain sheet! The stars are gone, and have been replaced by low hanging darkness. The rain intensifies. I realise I will get thoroughly soaked in a moment. I can hear my neighbours making noises. They have woken up and are scurrying around, finding shelter from the rain. I guess they have a dog that goes roaming away from home during the day, and never saw me setting up my tent. He gets alarmed with all the noise I’m making as I set up my rain sheet, and comes down barking at me. Two other dogs join him. Someone runs after them yelling at them to leave me alone. But I’m fine, I’m a bit conversant with dog behaviour and know they will do me no harm.

The guy tells me there’s room in the house if I need shelter from the rain. I tell him not to worry, I’m ok. I need to hurry though before I get soaked, and so I just throw the rain sheet over the tent without securing it with pegs. I get back inside a bit wet. It gets really windy, I pray that my rain sheet won’t be blown off. I may not be able to find it in the darkness, especially if it gets blown into the lake! Luckily, miraculously, it stays put.

My feet are wet, but it’s so warm, the wetness doesn’t bother me much. I fall asleep again.

---

Day 5 | Moite to Layeni

Today’s plan: Ride down to Loiyangalani, camp for the night among the El Molo people at Layeni village.

It’s a nice quiet morning, only interrupted by the heehaws and snorting of donkeys. I have my last night’s left over for breakfast, at the lake shore. I have to use petrol to light up the drenched firewood. I clean up and pack up.

David comes around to check on me as he had promised to. We talk a bit during which time he asks me where I am from, and what tribe I am. He says again how he really wants his people here to get water supply, and how he is looking for people to help him out. He seems to be taking a chance on me, that I just might be a big shot somewhere with enough clout to provide a village with water. Well… Maybe not. All I can do is write a story highlighting his intense desire for his people, and hope someone who can pull such weight reads my story and gets in touch with me. Will you?

We say bye to each other, but not before he gives me the best information for today. He tells me that there are three options to get to Loiyangalani. He describes in detail which road to take, what turns to take, to have the best experience.

I listen keenly. I’m not relying on my GPS anymore, especially because this was not my route plan. My plan was to go north. After hiring a boat cleaned out my wallet, I’m forced to head south, back towards home. I had not mapped this route.

My neighbours come around and curiously watch me and chat me up as I pack.

I’m ready to leave. But I have to pass through Moite and replenish my water supply.

As I enter Moite centre, a man walks by me and I think I hear him speak a greeting in my mother tongue. I ignore it. It can’t be right! I’m sure words between languages sound similar. But he says it again and adds even more sentences. He refuses to tell me how he knows my mother tongue, saying he doesn’t want to talk to me, since I seem to be in such a rush to leave them.

“You should have stayed around for a while so we could talk,” he says. I’m sure David told him about me, but even so, how did he get here? I tell him I will come back one day to hear his story.