The little black one from Cameroon
-Ça c'est la guerre!- (That is war) Part I
Pasé los últimos meses cruzando la selva sorteando un obstáculo tras otro y sometiéndome a una tras otra paliza, hasta llegar al corazón de la misma. En todo el trayecto había arriesgado mi vida más veces de las que prefiero recordar y hasta fui golpeado por un corrupto oficial de inmigración congoleño.
Before the war
It took me two hard weeks through the jungle to make the 550 km to the last village in northeastern Gabon and there, in Mekambo, the easiest part was over.
A bakery in Ondingui
No matter how hard one tries to prepare for unforeseen events, it is never possible to prevent everything. It had been almost 10,000 km since I had left Cape Town and since then I had been carrying 10 kg extra in spare parts.
The warm Congolese spirit
I was already only 160 km away from the border with Gabon. I was still in the equatorial savannah, suffering more and more the scorching heat, the sticky tropical humidity and without any place to take shelter.
Once again, three weeks have passed since having stopped, but finally, the wait is over and the bureaucracy too (at least for the time being). These last two months of long stops went slow but the truth is that they have been necessary.