11.10.09: But at 5am, I was up an at 'em, kicking ass all the way up to Tete on what was admittedly a dreadful bus journey. All I wanted to do was SLEEEEEEP, but the music was set to BEYOND max and the rugrats on the bus were as unhappy as I was about the situation – screaming and bawling like their lives depended on it. Although the devil in me found itself musing whether their displeasure was caused by seeing themselves in a mirror lately – my word these kids were UGLY. Wow. One looked the spit of George W. Bush. Which would have been bad enough had she not been a girl. Yes, yes I'm sure beauty is only skin deep, but I don't swing with no ming, it's not the way I ride. I don't care if their two years old or eighty-two…

10.10.09: Yep, back in Aff all right, back in Aff. First up, buses in Mozambique are not allowed to run at night (no street lights + drunk drivers = too dangerous), which is why the bus left at half-four in the morning (my taxi driver was even less than impressed than I). Secondly, the roads in Mozambique are in that kinda half-built stage that all African roads seem to be in north of the Tropic of Capricorn. What was particularly amusing was the fact that responsibly for building roads in Mozambique (like the Empire) lies in the hands of the regional governors. Which means you'll be hurtling along a lovely strip of Asphalt at 100 miles an hour when suddenly WHAM you cross a state boundary and suddenly you're up to your bits in dust and cattle. This is what it was like all the way…