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Escape from the Jungle (Part Two)

© Jane Stewart-Williams

The cyclists are very keen to take us way past the nearest village. They know a short cut, apparently, to a town I have never heard of. They assure us it is our best choice if we are heading for Kisumu, which we are. It sounds like a long way to travel over unsealed pot-holed roads, balanced on the back of a rickety two-wheeler with little or no suspension. But hey, at least the kids can't run fast enough to keep up with the bikes.

I am obviously no challenge for the strong thigh muscles of my driver, and we soon leave the other two bikes behind. We smoothly glide around all the bumps in the road. And I can't help wondering why we don't use this form of transport more regularly on these car-destroying roads. Steve's ride is not as relaxing, as his driver is struggling to carry nearly twice his own bodyweight. His lean muscles ripple as he manoeuvres the vehicle around the bumps and holes in the road, and droplets of sweat break out on his back almost immediately.

We reach a steep part of the hill, and the lack of gears finally causes a problem for my super-fit rider. I dismount. The bike is pushed while I stroll through the mud, turning round just in time to see Steve and his partner fall to the floor further down the hill. A bit dusty, but otherwise unharmed, they jump to their feet and an eternal bond is made as they clap hands together and break into fits of giggles. Steve's guilt gets the better of him though, and he pushes the bike up the hill himself. I grin at my driver and he smiles back, knowing he has by far the best deal.

At the top of the hill, we re-board. A cloud of butterflies rises like a veil before us, and as they flutter past my ears, the gentle breeze cools the sweat on my face. Soon, my relaxation disappears. My fingernails start to dig into the seat cushion as we pick up speed. The bike is swerving around potholes, and dodging puddles, and as far as I can tell there is no way of slowing this thing down. I try to pretend I am on a thrill roller-coaster ride and that all this is exactly as planned. However, I still find myself breathing a huge sigh when the road starts to slope gently uphill again. I daren't look round. I have no idea if the others made it down the hill, but I am not about to risk tipping the balance of the machine that is rapidly gaining my respect. We pass another school, and the kids start running along beside us. I manage a nervous wave, quickly replacing my hand before I lose my balance. But the school is a good sign: The journey is nearly over.