During my different travels over the world in a unique line of work, I found myself in Madagascar. Trust me it is nothing like the cartoon movie we instantly think of. I was at a port on the south side of the island and we where going to fly to another country in the morning. This meant we had to go to the capital where the only airport was, Antananarivo. Our local national told us it was a twenty four hour trip on one road. One road? Yes there was only one main highway that led to the capital from where we were. Little did my team and I know that this would be the longest twenty four hours of our lives.
A little box van pulled up, for my team and another team, to take us to the airport. Eight men, two gear boxes, and every ones personal gear was thrown in the cracker jack van, to include ourselves. It probably could safely fit six people, so we had stretched it past max capacity. We started our trip, the sun was just raising and you could still smell the nights sea breeze. Within one hour of the sun rise the cool sea breeze air was replaced by the smell of men that had not showered in weeks. The temperature felt was comparable to a sauna at the gym, and the truck had no ac. Luckily, I had stock piled water in my kit for my guys so we wouldn't wither away. The road was about as smooth as a winters highway that had just been recently graded, and we probably looked like cowboys riding horse back from an on looker through the back window. Upset and disgruntled, I remember looking out the passenger side window at a murky, yet refreshing, river that ran beautifully alongside the highway. I dreamed of swimming in it even though I had seen numerous locals bathing or washing their cloths in it, and they also considered it their bathroom.
Like I said earlier, this was the only highway to the capital and everyone used it. The local villagers would line up alongside this highway to sell different things to the convoys running north. They knew where you would stop for food, drink, use the restroom - pee on the side of the road - or just to stretch your legs. Well our convoy stopped at one of the local rest zones, and women were walking around selling water and homemade pastries. We all knew not to take the water, but we were starving. They where selling the pastry balls for one dollar a dozen, so I bought two dozen for my team and I. We sit down next to the highway, where locals had started a fire for warmth, and start talking while we stuff our faces. In straight bliss, I start looking at the river, thinking of my family, of home, and becoming home sick. I notice which way the rivers current was running as I take one more bite of my pastry. We were driving with the current, about an hour ago I saw people bathing, washing their cloths, and using the bathroom in the river. I spit out my pastry and start slapping them out of my guys hands. Every begins to yell at me, infuriated for interrupting the one pleasure they have had since we started this journey. Right then I screamed at the top of my lungs," Where to you think they got the water for this dough!" As they look at me puzzled, contemplating what I was getting at I told them to look at the current of the river. It clicked. They all started gagging and spitting out the once glorious pastry.
Needless to say, the rest of the trip to the airport was worse then what it should have been, and longer. We all were puking and had diarrhea. Don't worry, I have no infectious diseases, but that memory may be just as bad as one.
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