One one things

“Our inland revenue department has more staff than the Royal Navy, it seems our government thinks that the best form of defence is a tax” - Yes Minister, The Economy Drive.

You’ve got to love the civil service. Well not really. Most of my exposure to civil servants involves peering at them through the wide array of files and tea cups on their desks, being interrupted when they answer the phone and then continue their conversation oblivious to my presence in the room, even if it’s about the neighbour’s cat. By the time the phone call is over it’s 4.30 and mid-sentence he (or she, sorry Amartya) stands up, smiles and makes haste to the bus stand. Some of the above are generalisations, but they are generally true. I’m still unsure what the difference between a civil servant and a government employee is. If there is no difference, then in SL there are more servants than masters. There are still a few good men and women in Sri Lanka’s administrative service, the remnants of the exam intake days. It’ll be another decade or so before we really feel the pinch of political appointees and graduate employment schemes. Anyway, this isn’t meant to be a rant though it is fast becoming one.

I was in Delhi last week and met some fascinating civil servants, mainly from India and Pakistan and their respective foreign services. Diplomats are like actors, you never really know what they’re up to. They’re trained to appear interested in the most boring of environments and to coat everything in five layers of sugar. But this makes them all the more intersting. A diplomat from Pakistan provided an absolute masterclass in backroom diplomacy over dinner. At the table were 5 of us from the SAARC countries other than India and Nepal. I asked the Pakistani diplomat whether it’s more pleasant working in India given the thawing of relations between the two countries. He first laughed and said that when things are “good” between two countries it’s not “good” for diplomats bc there’s more work for them, it’s better when they’re not on talking terms. (I had my doubts about this statement, I mean I’d much rather be Sri Lanka’s first secretary in the Bahamas than in Norway, but I guess he has a point). This guy was really interesting, I loved his use of language, analogies, and his background. I asked him where he’s from and he said ____ province. I use a blank bc I had never heard of the place, and now I can’t remember it. It was surprising bc you’d expect a senior diplomat to be from one of the major cities, Karachi, Islamabad or Lahore. Apparently this guy is from a tribal region, in his words “the part of Pakistan that isn’t ruled by Musharaff’s laws”. I asked him who’s laws does it fall under, to which he looked me in the eyes and said, “Our laws.” I giggled. He put down his fork and knife and said that he’s serious. “My father is the chief of our tribe, and I am next in line to be chief,” and then continued to eat. I couldn’t believe it. This man, in a suit, speaking in the most cultured English and quoting Humphrey Appleby, a tribesman? I asked him what he’s doing here, being chief sounds like it could be quite fun. But apparently he didn’t like bodyguards so he let his younger brother take that route. Fair enough. I tried to be clever and said that he doesn’t look like a Pathan, he didn’t look up from his Murgh Tikka and replied that not all tribesmen are Pathans and not all Pathans are tribesmen. D’oh.

In between our exchange, he managed to convince all around the table (now joined by an Indian academic) that the only reason Indo-Pak relations are not moving as fast as they should is the Indians. And not the politicians, but the bureaucracy, and in chief the military bureaucracy. He then explained how the power of the civil service is still massive in India and Pakistan, and how one letter to the Minister from the Secretary (or general) saying “Sir, if you go ahead with this, I can not be held responsible for the consequences,” would stop the minister dead in his tracks. The rest of us looked at one another unconvinced, the Pakistani diplomat then said “Have you watched Yes Minister? I rest my case.” He went on to say that Pakistan is run by a military man, not a politician, and he’s pushing for resolution but India is stalling. I asked why he thinks India is stalling, “Their army is 5% of your population. What will they do if there’s peace?” By now most of his conversation was aimed at the Indian academic, who in turn asked him why Pakistan is not giving MFN status to India in terms of economic relations. The diplomat cleverly side-stepped using some analogies which diverted from the issue at hand before killing the Indian’s argument with the hard facts about informal trade routed via Dubai and Singapore. (None of this can deny the fact that Pakistan doesn’t extend the most basic economic diplomacy to India).

He carried on with momentum, “So we don’t want you to solve Kashmir just yet, just start with the simple things like Siachen (glacier) and Sir Creek, then we’d have something to tell the ppl in Pakistan that it’s a two way process, and MFN can be considered” The resolution of both issues seems to require some form of concession by India, particularly at the glacier where India in all probability has more to lose from a joint troop withdrawal. Interestingly, Siachen glacier is the highest battleground in the world, and 80% of casualties are due to the climate rather than bullets. The Indian struggled to meet the Pakistani’s tact, and quietly left the table. The victor pounced on the opportunity to lobby the other SAARC diplomats to put pressure on India (and Pakistan, he said, almost as an afterthought) to solve issues that are holding back the region as a whole. There were nods all around. It was a classic case of bullying, the powerful diplomat armed with tact and words wielded like stealthy arrows, against a harmless academic throwing around a few textbook arguments in a political vacuum. He had no chance. All the other kids in playground were in such awe that they saw the bully as a hero. Uncivil bullying by a civil servant, brilliant. I came home from Delhi with a dodgy stomach and a fresh curiosity about the civil service. The former was cured by some tarivid and thambbum hodi, the latter by my newly acquired Yes Minister DVDs. It is as they say in Paris, Le shit.

P.s.
In other news, I thought I had discovered the world’s greatest irony and I was thrilled about it, but response thus far has been muted, and possibly slightly confused. Anyway the irony is this; everyone in the world is unique.

So here’s a shitty post. I’ve been grumpy for almost a week now, and i don’t really know why. I first thought it must be wasgamuwa withdrawal symptoms on thursday and friday, which it probably was, of course helped by the spectacular weather and the results of a series of cockups by the CMC boys. It was hilarious watching that chap who Mays our city talking on the news about how he is in charge and that anyone with a grievance should come see him. I hope they have a good queueing system up in the town hall, bc us ceylonese are certainly not British, we couldn’t queue if we were between P and R. And he then went on to link hands with his staff and do a Mexican wave of sorts in his office. Must be the accumulated 3 wheel fumes. The last time I saw an attempted Mexican wave fall flat was when Bill Clinton tried to generate one during an ASEAN photo shoot. The other chaps thought he was doing some prayer ritual and promptly bowed at the cameras with palms together in Ayubowan style. Anyhow, more than the floods and stuff what ticked me off was the lack of sun. Now I enjoy my thunder storm as much as the other guy, but 2 days without sunshine is not good news. It also didn’t help that the lightning had sizzled my laptop and router at home. By some miracle the old laptop made a surprise come back and started to work. After a spectacularly unproductive 2 days I expected to return to normal by the weekend. And even the sun popped out.

But alas, Friday night poker and Saturday night monopoly sessions were temporary respites, in between there was more grumpiness. The best I felt pretty much all week was at CR jazz on Sunday, nice tonic and lime, good company and great music. I wish they had that more often, but then it might get tedious. Sunday evening blues set in after I got home, so there was once again an excuse for grumpiness. This followed through till Monday morning, but by Monday evening I was running out of excuses. There are few better cures for all things blue than Blackadder. So I popped in series 3 and cheered up instantly. All was good till this morning when I stepped into work and realised that it was going to be a visa day. Grumpiness was back before the Prince Regent could say disestablishmentarianism. (or antidisestablishmentarianism, pseuduantidisestablishmentarianism, antipseudoantidis..). I’ve always hated visa officers, they without exception seem to have large, fragile egos and volatile tempraments. The latter is understandable given the number of dimwits who present themselves for visa applications. Today I overheard an amusing conversation.

Visa officer - Where is your marriage certificate? without certificate no visa.
Lady - But sir it got washed away.
VO - what?
Lady - Yes sir, tsunami sir.
VO - But you live in Bandarawela
Lady - yes sir.
VO - When did you get married?
Lady - Last year sir.
VO - Please leave.

Ok so I made some of that up, but as a witty person once said, never let the facts get in the way of a good story. And she did say some startlingly foolish things. Today’s VO was not all that bad, he was actually quite nice to me, and I was nice to him. Nonetheless I managed to puncture his ego and I almost didn’t get the visa, but all’s well that ends well. Next week I have to go to the Brit visa office, and that I’m not looking forward to. A week later I’ll need to go sort out a visa to Manila. Something invariably goes wrong and I end up getting in the foulest of foul moods when visa hunting. So maybe that’s why all this grumpiness. It’s going to be a long month. Tomorrow I’m off to Delhi for a lightning trip, thank heavens my Kerala visa is still valid and I don’t have to meet the barking musthache again. That said I don’t have a confirmed return flight yet, what with all the changes to the flight schedules and certain airliners still unsure as to whether they’ll pull out of SL yet. Having watched the Terminal last night I get the shivers thinking about being stuck in the Delhi airport. Maybe I’ll at least meet a Catherine Sita.

Fact for the day - Hitwicket in French is “autodestruction”. Can just imagine their commenatry; “Ohh le Sanath Jayasuriya, oui un grand six! ooh la la..oh non non non! merde! il autodestruct! On doit faire attention quande l’hitte le ballon comme un bullet tracer”

p.s. most of that French is rubbish, please do not be foolish and use it in your next Alliance Francais class. I should know. My brother told me that pig in French is L’oink, I was le laughing stock, naturellement.

I was up with a start to the thumping of doors again at half 6. M still hadn’t mastered the art of unlocking the door from within so I stumbled to the door clutching the sarong. My runny nose had settled down after the extended sleep but my head still felt like a factory of lemmings hammering away. We were set to be out of the hotel for the whole day so we packed away some strings, bananas and mangoes to keep us company. We drove up to the forest department near Laggala and waited for one of the guides to show up. Ours was a party of two chaps and three girls, and I think the forest dept boys thought we were a bit soft. They suggested a 2 hour “trek” to see a waterfall. On further questioning it seemed the trek involved little walking and certainly no climbing. Offended, we demanded something more challenging. The guides looked at one another and with a mischievous grin suggested we then do a 7 hour trek which would involve climbing a 3000 or so foot rock. We couldn’t say no at this point so we accepted, to their surprise. We decided to leave behind the lunch packets since the extra weight would not be welcome, we packed in water (4L worth), cream crackers, bananas and a few other supplies. The boys would have to share the burden of the bag, equal opportunity at its best. Bandara the guide led the way, and it was uphill from the word go, but a gentle slope to start with. It was around 9am by this time and the sun was up, but we didn’t even feel it with the cooling canopy and the moist atmosphere.

Within five mins I was panting. I could feel the heart thumping against my chest and I could hear myself breathing, drowning out the sound of Bandara explaining all sorts of things about the flora. I looked around at the others hoping to see tiredness all around, but they all looked pretty determined, Bandara hadn’t even broken a sweat, worrying. We took a 250m detour to see the largest tree in the Knuckles range, it was pretty big, and rather out of place bc most of the trees don’t grow very tall given the wind. I took over bag duties as we returned to the trail and what fantastic timing, we had just begun the first steep section. Thankfully by this stage the girls were feeling the pinch and we began to stop frequently to catch our breath. The first leaches had made their appearences as well, hitting K twice as he was bringing up the rear. I was in shorts and bata slippers so it was easy to keep an eye out for unwanted suckers. The jungle became a bit thicker and we pressed on. At each turn the views became more spectacular, and within about 20 mins of climbing we could see our starting point, way way down below. But it was ominous when Bandara said we’d hardly begun yet. By this point I had serious doubts about being able to keep up this stunt for 7 hours.

I asked Bandara about animals in the area and according to him all of Sri Lankas major animals live in the Knuckles range other than the sloth bear. “kotiya?” i asked, he looked back, smiled and nodded. How exciting. He said that leopards catch the calves of the cattle brought up to the forest, and if you ever come across a carcass you can be guaranteed two or three leopards the following day. I couldn’t quite work out how elephants would manage on this terrain, but I guess they have their own niches. Unfortunately most of the animals stay away from the trails, as would be expected. We heard a couple of grunts and rustles in the bushes but it was only jungle fowl. As the muscles slowly warmed up, the trek became more palatable, and soon it became thoroughly enjoyable. Every so often we’d reach a little peak, and you suddenly find yourself in what looks like a beautifully tended garden as opposed to a forest. Pretty flowers, bees, open spaces of grass, only thing missing were a few Gnomes running around. The views continued to be spectacular, even putting the Laggala road views to shame. By now all tiredness was out of the window and we soldiered on merrily. Around noon we reached the highest point in our journey, a rock called Eth Oluwa. The entire rock looks like an elephant when seen from the side, and naturally the place we had just reached resembles the head. The adjoining rocks apparently resemble the body and tail.

From Eth oluwa we descended to another massive plain which stretched a very long way across. As soon as we reached it we ran into a small herd of buffalo happily wallowing in a small watering hole. Bandara chased them away since A had issues with them. The views from this rock (M something, shockingly i’ve forgotten the name and never bothered to write it down) were the best of the lot. It had a sheer drop which had to be approached on your belly like in World’s End. Below you could see paddy fields, trees of various colours, more mountains and even a forest fire. It was stunning. We stopped to have a break and re-fuel with some biscuits and bananas. By this time I had figured out how to wear the bag like a backpack, and coupled with the reduced weight after drinking most of the water, it barely felt like a burden. We began our descent around 1.30, and carried on pretty much non-stop all the way back. Bandara offered to take us to a village of 3 families that had never had any contact with the outside world. They live on subsistence farming and hunting, and never venture outside the forest. But it would be a 3.5km detour, and we wouldn’t have time for that. Bandara had by this time convinced us to return one day to do a 3 day trek with overnight camping to cover 3 of the knuckles peaks. It sounded fantastic other than for carrying all the stuff around everywhere, but I think it’s definitely worth exploring a bit further.

The last hour or so was really tiring bc we were now exposed to the sun completely, having left the forest. Bandara claimed the last stretch was just 3km but it took a good hour and half. we had planned to put a river bath as soon as we finished with the trek, and each time we crossed a stream our feet touched the icy water and that river bath became more tempting by the moment. Flu or no flu, there would be swimming today. We soldiered on and eventually reached the forest dept. We thanked Bandara and headed off to the river armed with towels and anticipation. It was quite crowded so we had to climb up a fair few rocks to reach an empty natural pool, but that first dip made everything worth it. Our aching limbs were brought back to life in a second and all was well with the world. After an hour or so of splashing around we headed back to the safari village. Quick showers and we were out on the rock for sunset over the lake. Ginger tea was followed by beers and G&Ts. The hotel chaps furnished us with devilled beef and devilled pork, making it quite a decadent way to spend vesak, but I can safely say it was worth it. As the sun set and the moon made an appearence we set off for dinner. This was followed by another abortive attempt at poker which quickly descended into a night of giggles, midnight walks to see the ducks, suspected visits by Gnomes, more giggles and finally a richly deserved sleep. The next morning we headed back to Colombo, one last drive through the beauty of knuckles, one last audience for the orchestra of crickets and one last leg of a wonderful extended weekend.

I was woken from a mosquito ridden sleep by a loud thumping on the door. I don’t recall hearing an alarm and as first M and then A struggled with the door, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The thumps were to furnish us with morning caffiene, and they seemed pretty adamant that we woke up. It was around 5.45 and we had aimed to get to the park by around 6.30 at least. The morning drive out of safari village is wonderfully crisp as the surrounding villagers began to wake up. The park is literally 5 mins from the hotel, and the main office is really nicely done, lots of wood, very open and poles apart from the Yala main
office. As soon as i saw it I said “oh it’s got to be a Bawa” for a joke, and K didn’t find it too far fetched but felt it might be one of his golayas. Seemed plausible enough. We got a tracker named Lional and we were off. It didn’t take too long to spot the first elephants, a smallish herd with a couple of calfs enjoying breakfast before the vehicle noise disturbed them. A bit later we saw a fabulous tusker, one of 4 in Wasgamuwa. He was drinking from a water hole shared with a dozen buffalo, silhouetted against the morning sun. Unfortunately most of the Wasgamuwa animals are less used to vehicles than those in Yala, and they get disturbed more easily. The tusker was clearly perturbed and marched off parallel to the road before scurrying behind a few trees and we took off.

The vegetation and terrain in Wasgamuwa is quite similar to that of Yala, and so is the wildlife, except in smaller numbers. I felt quietly confident that we would see leopard even though sitings in Wasgamuwa are pretty rare. As we drove along we saw more elephants including a large herd about to cross the road. This herd was in a flat open area, quite unlike usual elelphant spottings in SL, it was more like what one would expect to see in Africa. We slightly overestimated the crossing point and ended up bang in the middle of where they were trying to cross. Three of the adults had already crossed from this point and we now had stopped in between those three and the rest of the herd. Angry rumblings and trumpeting emanated from both sides of the forest and we got a bit edgy. One of the adults who hadn’t crossed looked hard at the jeep before disappearing into the woods. The tracker suggested we move up a bit and avoid agitating them as a couple of other vehicles closed in on the scene. We missed a chance to see a good crossing, our presence was clearly agitating the animals so we had to move on. Besides several nice eagle spottings, a lone Jackal drinking water and a few peacocks (one of whom in the distance had just spread his feathers), we didn’t see the other major sightings. I was surprised not to see bear given the large concentration in Wasgamuwa, but that said it was relatively late in the morning for bear to be wandering around. Just before we left we stopped by the water hole where we spotted the tusker, hoping to see him again. Only the water buffalo had stayed back. They too seemed agitated by our presence, but unlike the other animals instead of retreating, the entire herd stood up in unison and emerged out of the water like an army. Nervous energy built up as they walked towards us with a constant sound of water dripping off their backs. They stopped about 10m from the vehicle, a couple of the males edging closer and glaring at us. They were not amused. However they seemed to feel less threatened when we cut the engine and waited silently. As they relaxed we thought it best to let them be in peace and we moved on out of the park.

By this time I was not feeling very well at all. Late sunday night I felt the first sniffles and itchy upper palette of the throat, not good news as it signifies a bout of my standard flu. Half way through the round in the park I was sneezing with little control. The dust (not much of it) wouldn’t have helped, but I did manage to keep things quiet when the animals were around. We headed back to safari village after the round for breakfast and a rest. I fell asleep without the fan and wearing a t-shirt, luckily there were no mosquitoes and I could feel the mercury rising in me. It was a good feeling, just letting the fever increase and kill of the bugs making me ill. I slept a good 3 hours and didn’t even want to get out of bed for afternoon action. We didn’t have much planned, but we thought we’d make a run to the forest department and try to find a guide for a quick look at knuckles followed by a river bath and picnic. When the others were getting ready I was still on knife edge as to what I should do, the song by the Clash echoing in my head. I finally thought I’ve come all this way so i’m not going to miss any of the fun so I groaned out of bed. My head felt like lead had been stuffed in through all the pores and was now bursting to come out. I gave in and took two panadols and a clarytine from A’s supplies. I’m usually in charge of medicines but the last minute packing meant I forgot, poor form. Finally we were off, driving back towards Laggala and the knuckles range. The potholes didn’t help my throbbing head, but soon we got to the more mountainy bits and I cheered up. The forest department was empty bar a couple of watchers. No guides were around by this time, apparently they leave if there is no action by late morning. Happily enough we were told to come back the next morning, despite it being vesak, that there will be a guide who can take us for a whole day if we want. Brilliant. And there was a map which had lots of really interesting looking things to do, waterfalls to see and trails to explore.

With plans made for tomorrow, we needed to find something to fill out the rest of the afternoon. We had a packed lunch so we needed to find a place to eat it. We drove back up along the pretty Laggala road and stopped at a random open patch. Just above where we stopped is a beautifully located stone house. It can barely be seen from the road, and is perfect for a private getaway. It didn’t appear to be open to the public. Envious, we sat on the grass to eat, only to be chased away by a gang of leaches. Food was good, rice and curry with too much rice and too little mallum for my liking. It was followed by wonderful fresh mangoes carved up with my HSBC pen knife. Great way to spend the afternoon. After cleaning up we felt it would be best to have a dip in some cool water. By this time I was feeling a lot better, but I thought it best to avoid a river bath at this stage. The place we went to is usually packed bc its a pretty popular bathing spot for the locals and passing travellers. It was more so bc this was bang in the middle of vesak season. So we had to climb up a few extra rocks to reach an empty natural pool, flanked by jungle on either side, a waterfall feeding it from deep in the jungles in the west and the river dropping into it as rapids, calming down in the pool, and then dropping back down as more rapids. I gave into temptation as I am wont to do, I couldn’t resist plunging into the water and letting the mini waterfall massage my shoulders. We couldn’t even hear the voice of all the ppl way back downstream, it was just us, the sounds of the water and the forest. Time flew and it was getting dark and time to head back. The jeep was running out of petrol and being evening and almost poya, the only shed in town looked like it had closed up shop in the last century. After asking around we found shop that sold loose petrol, technically illegal, but pretty essential in these parts. We filled up 20 Litres in 4 trips of a 5L jug at Rs. 113 per Litre, bit of a rip but us beggars can’t choose can we. We almost knocked down a chap on a motorbike while reversing, he was not happy but managed a smile in the end. It’s amazing how nice the ppl are when you move further from Colombo, the courtesy on the roads, the eagerness to help with directions and just the ability to smile without effort is extremely refreshing. That buses actually pull over and let you pass would be unthinkable in Colombo, everything is so laid back. An hour and a half later we were back at the safari village, munching del chips and mixture, sipping G&Ts and watching the mountains disappear into the mist and darkness. A poker session was planned after dinner but we were too tired, probably bc of the early morning wake up and general lack of sleep over the last few days. We were all out for the count by 10 o clock, old age had crept in.

Due to ticketing issues Nepal didn’t quite work out. While it was a bit of a blow bc we were looking forward to it and had already planned quite a bit, it wasn’t the end of the world. On the bright side we’d be in Colombo to watch the World Cup finals and, as i’d find out a couple of days after the cancellation, new work commitments would have made things very difficult if the trip did go ahead. And Nepal isn’t really going anywhere so there’s always next time. We were considering alternatives within the country for the 4 days (including taking Monday 30th off) of Vesak and May day. The usual suspects were brought forward, Yala, Udawalave, Nuwara Eliya, Ella and even an out of season unawatuna trip. We eventually settled upon Wasgamuwa (also spelt Wasgomuwa for reasons i fail to fathom). I would have loved Yala but it’s a bit of a pain booking places at such short notice, and we were quite lucky to get rooms at Safari village in Wasgamuva so no complaints there. So about 10 ppl were due to show up between Sunday and Monday, after the last cricket watching session for a while.

The WC final ended on a sad note, not bc we lost but the circumstances. It’s a shame we didn’t have a full cricket match that would do justice to a final. But as is often the case in SL, things were put into perspective in the sharpest possible way. Power failures followed by explosions and the Colombo sky being lit up like a christmas tree. Phones rang frantically before the networks got jammed, and we watched through windows as planes flew around, not knowing whether they were SLAF or whatever else was out there. The rumour mills worked over time and nobody really had much idea what was going on. Things quietened down and we edged home nervously around half 3. I didn’t know what was going on in the match but knew it was raining and the boys had no chance in those conditions. Half the trip crew dropped out so it was just 5 of us who wanted to go anyway, we agreed to decide the next morning (in 4 hours time) to see if we still want to go ahead.

I woke up around 9am and a glance at the phone suggested that the 5 ppl were still in so we left Colombo around 9.45. The radio news headlines were about some random minister discussing wholesale prices and the latest in the French elections race, how very classy. We took the Kandy road to the Warakapola junc and went via Kurunegala to Matale. The drive from Matale through Laggala is one of the most picturesque in Sri Lanka. It takes you through the Knuckles range and the scenery is fabulous. The different shades of green on the hills, the trees interspersed with paddy plantations, natural bonsai created by the wind, the orchestra of crickets as you pass through tunnels of forest and the spectacular sheer drops from the road forced us to stop and admire for a few minutes. Along this route there’s a mini worlds end which isn’t all that interesting and a couple of nice looking bungalows which are pretty cleverly placed to capture the best of the views. Lucky sods. Naturally we made plans to revisit that area after setting up base in Wasgamuwa, it was much too pretty to be accorded just a simple drive through. The road quality depreciated sharply between the end of the knuckles forest and Wasgamuwa, and the scenery of course had a very tough act to follow.

We got to the little hotel around 4ish, which was pretty good time considering we stopped for brunch at Ambepussa. The rooms are pretty neat, we got a couple opposite the lake so the early morning view promised to drag you out of bed. But first things first, no time or energy for an evening round so we grabbed towels and bathers and ran off to find the nearest source of running water. A couple of the chaps had been to Was before so they rumbled through hazy memories but couldn’t pin point the location. We asked around a couple of locals about bathing spots, and an elderly villager said the place we wanted was now frequented by an elephant in musk. On another day we might have, but none of us had the energy to scamper away from an angry pachyderm. Instead we drove up along the bund of a water stream and picked a random place to take a dip. There was a fence bordering the stream which looked like it was electrified to keep the elephants away from the neighbouring farms. We asked a farmer whether its active and he said not till night, so we casually hopped over it. The water was warm and clean (what you can’t see or smell can’t hurt you) and I had the most pleasant swim since my shoulder decided to make a nuisance of itself. About half an hour later A yelps; “leach!” I was quite amused bc I had never heard of a swimming leach so I thought she was imagining things. She pointed to a twig like thing which she removed from her body. This added to the humour bc it was at least 3 inches long, far larger than any leach. And then to our amazement the twig doubled up and started swimming back towards her. She yelped and splashed out of the water. I was last in line to jump out of the water using the overhanging branch as a lever, and just before K had got out, the leach, or whatever it was, managed to attach itself on to me. I produced a melodramatic shriek and danced around a bit before hopping out of the water. The drama wasn’t over bc we were unsure about the status of the electric fence. K was the guinea pig and he got past unscathed. M was next and as soon as she touched it she quite casually said “it’s on.” Her tone didn’t suggest anything, but it seems she had actually scorched her finger and the shock had pushed her back. While she nursed her hand we crept along the wires until we reached a small gap and squeezed through to the safety of the jeep. Tiredness and lack of sleep saw us stagger into bed after a quick meal and a few drinks under the stars. There’d be 3 more days to enjoy so we needed all the rest we could muster.