Exodus

We had a truck...they told me they had seen it, it was running...I saw it. Then I got that feeling. Like something wasn't right. Like I'd been in the Congo too long to take anything for granted. I told my interpreter to go check on the truck. He protested. I told him to go check anyway.

An hour later he returned to tell me that not only was the primary truck broken beyond repair (FUBAR) but the Bishop's private vehicle (which we reserved as back up) was no where to be found. 30 minutes before the plane was supposed to land, we decided to cut our losses.

Max and I gathered all our personal belongings and tethered them to the back of the 100cc Yamaha motos and made for the airstrip. Imagine this if you will...

2 white guys....driving through droves of congolese as school let out....with the back of the bikes loaded with bags and guitars and cases.....taking a 30 minutes exceptionally slow trip to meet the incoming plane.

Needless to say we were not low profile.

We met our replacements with the bad news. In fact, it was so bad, that they thought it was a joke. Sad to say, when reality hit, no one was laughing. With over a dozen boxes, 2 people, personal bags, and assorted items, there was no humor to be had....

I reflected on that as the plane lifted off....so sad...I cried a little inside...ok, maybe not, I was out of there....and it was sweet.......