It’s after 10AM when the bus leaves Huambo for a 422 km drive on the largely destroyed road to Lubango. I’ve seen bad roads in Africa, but none over such a distance than this one. Most damaged roads have potholes, this road is one huge pothole with pieces of tar sticking out, 20 cm high. A sandy track is winding itself around this war destroyed main road. But not only one sandy track, sometimes a second, a third and even a fourth or a fifth track, a labyrinthine piste all going in the direction of Lubango. This means making about twice the distance marked on my Michelin - and flat tires are unavoidable.

There aren’t many villages on the way. Most small towns are not more than a few Portuguese built farms, some huts grouped around a little market, some cemented shacks being used as makeshift official buildings, followed by another stretch of 100 km low wood and savanah. At 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, Coke, 7up to Schweppes) but there isn’t any left. This is supposed to be the largest town on the road to Lubango. The driver in one of the upcoming trucks warns there are police controls just outside the village. Our driver decides to take a small track to circumvent the checkpoint - the only way to avoid paying a bribe of 1000 kwanza.

Although the track gets narrow, this works out for a while, till the bus is stuck in front of a river bank. Where once stood a stone bridge are only a few concrete poles. A few locals show another piste through the bush to the muddy river bank. We’ll have to drive through the river, with an overloaded Toyota minibus which isn’t even a 4×4 - a clear recipe to get stuck. But our driver decides to risk it and somehow manages to reach the other side. Continuing the same track, a track to avoid the bridge on the track to avoid the police control, it’s not so sure anymore where we are heading to. We lost our way, it’s getting dark in the middle of the bush between Huambo and Lubango. There are no villages, just woods and woods and more woods. A guy behind me starts telling stories about armed bandits roaming the roads by night. It’s 10PM when we’re back on the main road. People start complaining, all this hassle for 1000 kwanza. If we all had paid peanuts each, there would be enough money to bribe whoever stood in the way. And be in our bed by now. The bus is nearing Lubango when the road is blocked by an ox cart, on another dusty track through a riverbed to avoid a bridge under construction. It’s extremely difficult to pass, the operator uses his machete to prepare a path trough the reeds. The same guy with the bandit stories is starting now about landmines, which is somehow more believable but still…

At 2AM we arrive 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 passengers in the haphazard way I was getting used to before. We’re all spending the night at the bus station, in the freezing cold, till 6AM, when the first taxi’s and mota’s arrive looking for clients to drive into town.