I was nervous about even walking across. Aside from the usual bastards at the border, we encountered corrupt, gun-toting officials in every single town along the way. On a good day we covered 100 or more kilometers. On a bad day 10 or 20 kilometers was the best we could achieve. The pot holes, or bog holes as the Brits call them, were so huge a large truck could be swallowed up.
Zaire normally has wet and dry seasons.
This year nature forgot the dry one. We arrived at the start of the second wet season and required 33 days to reach the Ugandan border. The Spousal Unit broke her ankle on the first damn day. Let me quote Mary Kingsley, an intrepid Englishwoman who ventured deep into the African bush around the turn of the century. And undoubtedly one of the many worst things you can do in West Africa is to take any notice of an insect.