It’s after 10 AM when the bus leaves Huambo, 422 km on a road, well, I’ve seen bad roads in Africa, but none over such a distance than this one. Most tarred roads in a damaged state have potholes, this road is one huge pothole with pieces of tar sticking out, 20 cm high. A sandy track created by the traffic avoiding the worst patches is winding itself around this war destroyed main road. Not only one sandy track, sometimes a second and a third track, a labyrinth of pistes direction Lubango. This means we’re making about twice the distance as marked on my Michelin - and yes, flat tires are unavoidable.

There aren’t many villages along the way. Most small towns are not more than a few Portuguese built farms, some huts grouped along a little market and some cemented shacks being used as makeshift official buildings, followed by another stretch of 100 km low wood and savanah.

5PM: we’re arriving at Caconda, not even halfway. A stop at the only Restaurante to stock up some gasosa (sparkling lemonades - everything from Fanta to Coke or 7up or Schweppes) but there isn’t any. And this is supposed to be the largest town on the way to Lubango. The driver in one of the up coming trucks warns there are police controls just outside the village, so we take a small track to circumvent the checkpoint - the only way to avoid paying a bribe of 1000 kwanza.

Although the track gets more narrow, this works out for a while, till we’re stuck in front of a river bank and where once was a stone bridge are now a few concrete poles. A few locals show us another track to get at the other side, a track even smaller and rougher - till we’re at the muddy river bank again. We’ll have to drive through, something I enjoy when I’m driving myself, not in an overloaded Toyota minibus which isn’t even 4×4 - a clear recipe to get stuck. But the driver decides to risk it. We’re continuing the same track (a track to avoid the bridge on the track we used to avoid the police control) but it’s not so sure anymore where we are heading to. We’ve lost our way, it’s getting dark, we’re in the middle of the bush between Huambo and Lubango. There are no villages anymore, just woods and woods and woods. A guy behind me starts telling stories about armed bandits roaming the roads by night. It’s 10 PM when we’re back on the main road. People start complaining, all this for 1000 kwanza. If we all payed peanuts each there would be enough money to bribe whoever stood in the way. And be in our hotel by now.

We’re nearing Lubango when the road is blocked by an ox cart, on another dusty track through a river to avoid a bridge under construction. It’s extremely difficult to pass, the operador uses his machete to prepare a path trough the reeds. The same guy with his bandit stories is starting now about landmines, which is somehow more believable.

2 AM and we’re in Lubango. But we’re not driving into town - we’re stuck on the praça, because, indeed, police controls. Apparently, Interprovincais are not allowed to drive into town and drop off everybody in the haphazard way I was used to before. So we’re all spending the night on the praça, in the freezing cold, till 6 am when the first taxi’s and mota’s arrive to poach clients. I’m checking in the Grande Hotel de Huila, seriously overpriced but with the best breakfast I’ve had so far. I’ll find some cheaper accommodation tomorrow.

Originally uploaded by gert.