Satnavs and Swahil

On Saturday James and I were due to arrive in a lovely resort, only a short ferry trip and drive away, for one o'clock lunch. The plan involved a quick breakfast, short stop at work for James, the 11 o'clock ferry and arrival for twelve or half twelve. Ah, plans. When do they ever work in Africa?

Through various forms of procrastination we arrived at the ferry queue at half eleven, eating delicious chocolate pastries picked up en-route as our breakfast. We were still confident that we could make it until we saw the queue. Cars snaked back well beyond the normal end of the line. Our hearts sunk. I hopped out of the car and wandered up towards the port, hoping to see a car blocking the road, a temporary diversion or someother innocent explanation. Not so - both ferries were running, guys were hawking nuts, icecreams, fish and sunglasses as usual but the entrance to the ferry port was a seething mess of cars, buses, bikes and motorbikes coming from both directions trying to get ahead in the line and getting nowhere fast.

Back I sauntered to find that James had downloaded a google maps application and had a new plan following our electronic map. We'd drive the long way around! And off we went, quietly smug in our cleverness.

An hour later we couldn't find the turn off for the road we needed. Eventually after asking around in exceedingly poor Swahili we turned down a dirt road. We thought it was heading in the right direction, was sandy (a sure sign of the beach surely) and well, we couldn't see anything else in the vicinity.

An hour later we noticed the petrol indicator needle was creeping towards empty, the road had deteriorated further and we'd taken some random choices when it split in places and our helpful google map couldn't find any satellites to pin point our position. We couldn't remember how to pronounce the name of the area we wanted to get too and our shocking Swahili led to many confused conversations with locals who had probably never been so close to a foreigner; certainly not two sweaty, mildly stressed foreigners speaking in stuttering Swahili and looking blankly at you when you gave any answer other than "yes, straight ahead" (the only words we understood in most of the floods of sentances that came back to us).

Taking heart in the assertive and confident manner with which most of them did nod and say yes and point we kept going. At this point we didn't have the petrol to go back and hadn't seen a petrol station for a long time before our turn off anyway. We were going somewhere, even if we weren't sure where. I then spotted a lot of glittering up ahead. "Cars!" I cried gleefully. We pulled nearer and I could read the sign. It was the zoo. Not a lot of use to us. I had been imagining a petrol station. Oh, says James, I remember seeing that on a map once. It was in the middle of no-where.

At this point I was really getting worried about the petrol situation. We went on. We passed cars packed full of kids. Rationalising, we thought that we couldn't be too far from civilisation if people brought cars full of kids (not known for their patience) to the zoo out here.

Suddenly... a turning. A road with tarmac on it. Brief hesitation and a right hand turn. This has to be right. This was probably the road we wanted in the first place. And then just as I was beginning to worry again - a petrol station! We fell on it like camels at an oasis.

A total of three and a half hours later and far too late for lunch we arrived at the resort. Satnavs and Swahili - that's what we need out here.