KUWU MUD LAKE

I was dreaming when I wrote this, so forgive me if it goes astray… Woken from a wet dream I swear was in Polish by Doni kicking my door in at 7.00am we broke fast (other English people have started asking me for a knife-ful of my Marmite. I politely refuse then sit there making orgasmic sounds as I keep it all to myself) we set off on another five hour drive to Kuwu.

When we eventually arrived after stopping for lunch and to pick up something for Doni’s Jeep (which I am going to drive in the desert) we walked onto the edge of the mudflat. Every forty-five seconds or so a mud geyser would erupt from the middle. Then every so often a big one would fart its way out of the earth. My digital camera was not working so I had to take pics on my iphone with no zoom, missing the action every time due to the frustratingly slow finger to shutter speed action. It wasn’t really that interesting and I was beginning to question whether it was worth the eight hour round trip.

It was then that my friend called me over to a miniature geyser just on the mudflat. I say the word friend loosely as with hindsight I swear he did this on purpose. As the local children carried their 20 kilo frames almost weightlessly over the brittle surface and as Doni trod carefully, I slowly ventured out on to the sun-baked earth. Four or five steps in, the mud oozed under my right flip-flop and in it went, down into the grey oomska. Not a problem Will, pull your foot out and place it on terra firma; what could be more simple? With nothing to hold on to by pulling my right leg out I unwittingly shifted all my weight to my left foot which began to sink into the cartoon elephant coloured surface. With each pull, the opposing leg drowned a little more but I was determined not to lose my favourite Billabong flip-flops. They had cost me £1.80 after all. It was at this point I realised I was actually properly sinking. I was up to my knees in the stuff and thoughts of my own mortality entered my mind as Doni shouted words of encouragement like “Don’t struggle, Will”, “Keep still” and “Put your arms like this”

All I could do was laugh at the thought of my impending death. Drowning in mud was not how I envisaged dying… but what a way to go! This would certainly be one to tell the grandkids… hang on, that’s not right; I knew there was something I should I should have done before I died.

As Doni panicked and the local kids giggled, still skipping around with effortless ease like mini, raggedy-clothed, brown, riverdancing Michael Flatleys, my guide scrambled himself into rescue mode, which mainly consisted of pointing and laughing. “Get a fucking branch dude!” I screamed, adrenaline pumping but my life-force slowly ebbing away. “No tree” came the idiotic reply. My pulse in overdrive, I surveyed the desolate landscape, the nearest tree was a kilometre away. Great! My mind raced and a moment later clicked into survival mode… “Take off your belt” I shouted as I sank further into the quik-mud.
“Fuck off!” came the response.

He must have spotted something in the middle distance and ambled over to retreive it.
“No rush” I shouted sarcastically after him. The mud was passed my thighs and would not give up pulling me further down, sucking me further south as far as Hell itself. I was sure I could feel Cerberus, the three headed dog-guardian of the Gates of Hades snapping at my heels, but I was determined the rabid, mythological mutt wasn’t getting his greasy paws on my dip-dops. I looked down into certain oblivion when, in a flash and like a naked pygmy, Doni arrived. In a blur he threw what was in his hands towards me.
“Take hold of my snake, Mister Will”
“Snake, why’d it have to be snake?” I enquired, paraphrasing Dr. Jones in Pidgeon Ingriss.
“Like belt!”
My heart pounded and my blood pumped fast as I descended into the bowels of the earth.
I caught the scaly bastard with my right hand, for my left was clutched around my iphone tighter than Cheryl Coles’ chastity belt. I knew not what kind of snake it was but I was well aware that I now faced potential death on two fronts. Well done Doni, you fuckwit. But this was no time to be a wet drip, no time to be a pussy; if anyone around here was going to be spineless it was the snake, not me. Face to face, its evil, beady little slits for eyes pierced my soul as its devil-forked tongue hissed in and out, in and out, in and out smelling the air and coveting my flesh.

TO BE CONTINUED…