A cracking good day in Chimanimani

Fri Feb 18, 2000

How disappointing, I’m up here on the mountain, drenched again. Yesterday, I attempted a walk in the afternoon and got so fucking wet on the way down, I literally had to wring my shoes out. Now I’m stupid enough to try it again. Thing is, I know if only the sun came out for half an hour, everything would be dry in no time at all.

People are dropping like flies from Malaria. They come through Mozambique and pick up those nasty strains and it only hits them when they reach Chimanimani.

Last night I drank some beers and smoked a joint with the silly English girls and some locals. I went to bed when they started smoking it up for real. I hate being stoned around people.

Now, should I carry on, or should I go back? Hmmmmm…

I started Indiana Jones yesterday: almost finished.


It actually turned out to be a cracking good day, weather-wise that is - I decided to forge on, and forge on, and I wasn’t too wet when I headed back - my clothes from yesterday still are.

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I hadn’t realized how much I’m influenced by American culture until now, as I sit here listening to RATM and wearing my American clothes and thinking in American ways. While I was up the mountain, a lady came walking up the path balancing a huge bundle on her head. That’s hectic - I was wheezing my way up that mountain and cursing my satchel and she still had breath to greet me.

Who are all these people? There’s suddenly a bunch of people here. I think I’ve definitely decided to leave tomorrow - screw the cave, this weather is too unpredictable.

I’m going to try for the falls. This may be my only chance to see them, I think I should try…

This journal entry has been transcribed from the handwritten original. For more information about this transcription project, see this blog post.

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