Death by Baboons?! CONCLUSION

Ah...where were we?

Right--night was falling quickly due to gathering rain-clouds, yet rain falling wasn't likely, thank God.
I had received only one badly connected phone call from Tim; a disconcerting phone call.
About 2.5hrs into my baboon sit-in, between hot, panicky tears, and swearing, I prayed that God would do the miraculous--that I would not only not see another baboon, but more importantly, I would not even HEAR another baboon. In particular, I asked that God would keep the big guy away from me--his snorting and heavy stalker-breathing was just getting to be too much.

And in God's fashion he spared me. From the moment I prayed I never did see or hear another baboon noise.
But then my mind was occupied with night fall (within the next 2 hours and I was over an hour away from the car) and the undeniable truth that the others were lost and most likely NOT coming back my way.
After another panicky attack, some intense head-buried pray, and some idol threats, glorious glory the cell phone vibrated in my shirt...which was also terrifying considering every sense in my body was on high alert. Sure enough it was Tim.
"Where are you?"
"Right where you left me." I said.
"You didn't get my text?"
"No. Nothing. Where are you?"
"Uh, well, we're not so good." (Not so good? In Tim's language that's 'things are bad'.) "We haven't found the fort. Head back to the car and we'll meet you there in a bit."
(GAH.) "Ok. See you soon!" (Dying inside.)

Already packed and prepared to take off at a moment's notice I sling my backpack on, slide off my boulder and hit the ground running. I don't give a crap if I see baboons anymore. I felt like that guy from X-men 3; the unstoppable helmet-head guy. Once I got some momentum going I would just bowl through anything obstructing my way. There would be baboons flying right and left as I charged through them.
I was unstoppable. I had a helmet-head, so to speak.
Juggernaught! (Thanks Jes!)

This time the journey down was nice--I actually stopped to take a few pictures. Believe it or not I didn't take a single picture while I was on my boulder. I didn't feel like it was the right time to take self-portraits, nor avant-garde landscape shots. For some reason I just wasn't in the mood.

However, it wasn't long before the long grass started to rustle again. Only this time it was snakes. I don't know how many snakes I saw. The most interesting one actually flew. He was so scared when I pounded past him that he got air when he darted away. Turns out it was just an African version of our garter snake.
But, heck! I was on a damn safari!

Once I lost my tatenji, a traditional wrap/skirt that I had to wear at all times (90% Muslim population in Zomba), so had to backtrack about 10 minutes.
Made a toilet pit stop--uneventful but satisfying.
Then got lost for about, oooohh, maybe 30 minutes while I was trying to find the trail we took in. Unsuccessful.
So, because I took a wrong turn somewhere I ended up having to cross the river at a different spot; of course a wider spot with faster moving water and less rocks to jump on.
I wish someone had videotaped it. The internal anguish I was suffering through and the external problem solving my body was navigating through must have been hilarious as I studied the rocks available to use, then reconsidering, then wandering back up the path to see if I could go another way, then back to the river, then attempting a leap, psyching myself out, repeatedly hiking my tatenji up while muttering to myself "I have to do this. I have no choice. I just have to do this."

Maybe one day God can show me a play-back of that day. Just the river part.

Finally after making the leap of faith onto the first rock, COMPLETELY unsure if the rock was stable or WHAT, then zigzagging my way to the other side I made it to the other side, unscathed, and rather proud.

Maybe 20 minutes later I had no choice but to take the path I had chosen into a small village--mud walls, thatched roofs, naked children, the whole 9 yards really. With my pathetic Chichewa (Zomba language) and Chiow (Yao/Namwera language) (I'm so sorry to all you Malawians and missionaries for butchering your language SO much now in type and in person...) I somehow managed to find out where Namwera was, as well as the road that we originally took in. Of course I had a small following of, oh, 40 to 50 children running and screaming behind me.
"AZUNGU!!!!!!!!"
I managed to not majorly offend anyone--I think--which is just as important as finding my way back to the car in one piece.

So, exhausted, red-faced and sweaty I made it back to the car to wait for Naomi to pick me up. She arrived not too soon after and in my typical style I pretended to not be a mess. I was this close to a complete breakdown when she hugged me, and perhaps it would have been fine to, but at the moment I was more concerned about Tim who still hadn't returned.

A search party was sent out around dusk, and by the grace of God they were brought back home about 30 minutes later. They looked tired and hungry but ok. Tim's armed were literally shreaded from the brush and undergrowth they had to bushwack through, and the next day they complained of few sore muscles. They had hiked non-stop for 7 hours. So I shut my mouth about the bruise on my butt from falling off that boulder.

In so many ways it was a blessing I was left behind. Otherwise they would have had to carry me out of there. And I have this cool tale to tell for many many years to many people.

So, that's my story.

That night I couldn't fall asleep because I kept reliving he experience and I SWEAR I heard that heavy stalker-breathing in my room during the night. And I've heard SO MANY terrifying accounts of people lost in the bush, baboons attacking, wildlife, etc etc....but I'll save that for next time.