To boldly go where no man (well, not many) have gone before...

Just east of Kerewan, before you get to Farafenni, you can see the beginning of the Bao Bolon wetland reserve.  It spans out, both north and south of the highway, as far as the eye can see. During our work in the Illiassa cluster, Paul and I began to hear rumours about this mythical school that very few people visit. It was one of the schools in the cluster although Sama (the cluster monitor) had only got there once. Apparently this school is located in the tiny fishing village of Duntumallang, deep within the wetlands.  The village is completely surrounded by water during the wet season and even during the dry season many sections along the way are impassable.  So when Sama decided it was about time that he visited the school again, Paul and I jumped at the chance to see this extraordinary village. The ride began easily on the tarmac highway towards Farafenni. We then turned off onto the sand at the village of Noo Kunda. We passed a few small villages and then suddenly found ourselves riding into the vast wilderness of the dried up wetlands. We hadn't travelled far before we came across three women carrying beans to sell in Noo Kunda. Talking to them, we discovered that they had travelled on foot all the way from Duntumallang village. When they realised that we were heading that way, they pointed at their muddy feet and shook their heads sympathetically. That was not a good sign. As we continued into the wetlands, the view became more and more desolate. Occasionally, it made me feel like I was riding on the moon. The sand beneath the wheels gradually changed to dry cracked earth which made it harder to control the bike. We began to see some water in the distance and it wasn't long before we had to abandon the bikes altogether. It was a sad moment leaving the bikes to attack the wet ground ahead. At first I didn't believe Sama and thought that the bike could have continued a little further. It wasn't until I took my shoes and socks off to wade through the mud, sinking half way up to my knees in silky sludge, that I accepted the fact that Lamin (my bike) was definitely not up to the challenge! After a lot of slipping, sinking and laughing the three of us eventually reached the dryer ground on the other side. Paul took one look at his feet caked in mud with his walking boots next to him and swiftly decided to walk all the way back to the bikes to grab his sandals. I wasn't quite so organised so had to put the socks on over the mud. I have never before seen mud that clings to you with such determination. The shoes came off and on numerous times as we faced bog after bog, separated with dry land. I tried to walk bare foot all the way but the sharp stones on the dry earth made it an exercise in endurance until I couldn't stand it anymore. After about two hours had passed, we began to see some evidence of life. A brief climb later and we were stood in the grounds of Duntumallang School. The sun was getting stronger so we were more than happy to duck into the headmaster's office, out of the heat. There were two teachers working at the school, the head teacher and another class teacher, both of whom were not particularly overjoyed to have been posted here as their families were in Farafenni and due to the location of the school could not get home often. They had 12 children enrolled in the school as there are only about 50 people living in the village. We helped the head teacher prepare his school development plan and various policies before visiting his house. The people in the village were very friendly and welcoming. I chatted to two boys in the school while they wrote down sentences in English to show me like... 'Look at the girl' and 'This is a man'. The whole place was beautiful and surrounded by the biggest baobab trees I have ever seen! It was about 3pm when we decided to make a move. As we said our goodbyes and started the small decent down to the wetlands again I realised three things that triggered a flutter of anxiety... 1.      The sun was at its strongest. 2.      There was no breeze or shade to hide from the heat. 3.      I had approximately 4 gulps of water left in my bottle. The village had given Paul some local water but had warned him that it was possibly the worst water in the Gambia due to the high salt content. Like most keen travellers, I got carried away when buying emergency gadgets sold in Millets (water purification tablets, energy bars etc...) and yet (also like most keen travellers) I never had them when I needed them! After walking for about half an hour, the attempt to ration the water for the journey had failed... we were now out of water. There was a big difference in my general mood when I went from having one gulp of water to having none. It was about this time that Sama kept stopping for a few seconds to look around. After the third time I asked the question I was dreading... 'Are we lost?' Sama tried to reassure me, while Paul began to laugh. However, despite his efforts it soon became alarmingly apparent that we had lost the bicycle tracks we were following and were officially lost. As we had no compass (had left that at home next to the water purification tablets!) and every direction looked the same it wasn't long before we couldn't even remember the direction we had come from. Sama had said a couple of times on the journey that it was dangerous here at night because there were lots of hyenas in the area. I didn't fancy trying to sleep here with the prospect of either being eaten by hyenas or dying of thirst (slightly dramatic I know but panic had begun to set in). I took this moment, as most people in drastic situations often do, to look up hopefully at the sky to say a little prayer. No more than a minute afterwards, Sama shouted suddenly that he could see something in the distance. In the middle of the wilderness surrounding us was a lone man riding a bicycle. We all sprang into action. Running towards the man, we began yelling at the tops of our voices while waving our arms above our heads. The urgency in Sama's voice made me realise how panicked he was himself. The man couldn't see us and continued to peddle oblivious. Our efforts became a little more animated and, after what seemed like eternity, the man finally saw us and stopped. He quickly put us on the right path and went on his way. We had been walking in completely the wrong direction! Had a mini spiritual moment and thanked whoever it was looking out for us. The rest of the journey was robotic. We all plodded on, thirsty and in silence. I began to imagine fanta bottles floating in the air ahead of me. I cannot explain the sense of relief at the words "I see the bikes!" from Paul. Once we got to the bikes we still had to ride to Noo Kunda before we could get some safe water to drink. We got as far as the next village but couldn't wait any longer. The village let us have some water from their well and I drank a litre without pausing for breath. The best drink of my life. I then had a can of pop in Noo Kunda and another bottle of fanta at Njaba Kunda. When I got home I was still thirsty and kept drinking for most of the evening. When we got to Noo Kunda we saw the same three women starting the walk home with bare feet and no water. It is amazing how invincible we often think we are and how many trivial worries can fill our heads and yet it only takes something simple like an unexpected lack of water in the heat of the afternoon sun to highlight our vulnerability and what really matters... Amen.