MY GIRLFRIEND Natasha and I have been driving a Land Cruiser around Africa for the last nine months, and for the most part our trip has gone without a hitch.
Naturally we hit a few speed bumps, so to speak.
Things like getting stuck deep in the Okavango Delta, thwarting police attempts at bribery, traversing some of Africa’s worst roads, and wrestling with a thirty-year-old engine that nearly boiled in the Namib Desert were not easy feats.
However, we survived it all.
We had made it all the way to Arusha, Tanzania, when disaster struck.
That morning, we woke up to sunrise on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro. Our next stop was the famous Serengeti, so we made way down with huge smiles on our faces.
It looked like rain, so we set up under a concrete roofed structure that would protect our tents from the potentially wet night.
The rains came in around nine. It was a downpour by all accounts, and we have seen some rain storms in Africa, but this had to be one of the worst we encountered.
Natasha and I decided to play darts because we didn’t feel like getting soaked before bed while Kristin, our friend, headed back to her tent for a good night’s sleep.
After three rounds and two Kilimanjaro beers, the rain let up for a minute.
We made our way towards the tents. I was ahead of Natasha, and halfway back our visibly shaken friend came running out of the dark.
“Come with me!” Kristin yelled. “Come now!”
Perplexed, I followed her at a jog towards our tents.
Then I saw it. It was a dark night the moon obstructed by the clouds, but there was no mistaking the muddy waters pouring across the campsite.
Our tent, with everything in it, floated across the shallow end of the water having been saved from the worst of the water flow by a brave Maasai security guard.
The car, however, was in the middle of what was quickly changing from a waterlogged campsite to a flash flood.
Within minutes, the speed of the water, the rainfall, and the lightning intensified.
At first I stood dumbfounded from the high point in the camp, wondering what to do, and then I remembered what was in our car.
With rising waters and a steady stream we were set to lose everything: our cameras, months’ worth of work, and our wallets with passports in them.
I threw my shoes and shirt off and went into the flood. The Maasai watchman was yelling at me in a Swahili, none of which I understood. I imagine it meant “danger” and “stop”.
Fighting through 100 metres of thick mud, heavy cold water, and an increasing current, I reached the car. The water was above the doors, and I went in through the boot.
The car was dark and I could feel the current rocking the vehicle.
I fumbled through, slinging mud around and slipping. My sources of light were a small pocket light in my mouth and the flashes of lighting overhead.
I grabbed the electronics and wallets and turned back. With headlamps shining into the car, Natasha and Kristin fought the current up towards me.
We were all soaked with mud up past our waists. I handed them everything considered valuable and we fled to higher ground.
Muddy, cold and shaken, we watched the water engulf the car.
It was our weakest moment. Natasha began to cry. I could only manage to laugh out of fear and disbelief. There was nothing we could do, but watch and hope that the nearby villages, people, and livestock around were safe.
At this point the campsite owners, an old South African couple called Ma and BJ, had arrived on the scene. Speaking from decades of living in Tanzania, Ma told us it would be all right and that there was nothing we could do but watch and be thankful we were safe.
The water stopped rising only centimetres from the top of our bonnet.
The next morning the water had drained, leaving a half-metre of thick mud. We pulled the vehicle out and BJ set to working on it.
Over the next few days, the kindness of people amazed us as complete strangers gave us rooms in their campsite, worked on our car, and fed us everyday.
The car took a few days of hard work and scrubbing to repair, but the shock and disbelief from the whole disaster took weeks to push aside in our minds.
The day we left for the Serengeti we all hugged Ma and could not say thank you enough. I told her that they were the kindest people, and she said: “We’re just people”.
She is right, in all our travels the amount of times we have experienced compassion and kindness far outweighs those of indifference or wickedness.
We are all just people in this world, doing our best to look out for one another.
Cameron and Natasha currently live out of their four-wheel drive and document their travels on The World Pursuit. You can find them on Instagram and Facebook.