The signs are unmistakable: the wind changes, the sky darkens and a mirror the colour of petrol expands over the lake. “Inakuja”, the rain is coming. By now we are organized and perfectly efficient. At the first indication we begin packing up the entire camp and our equipment under a waterproof canvas.

In a few minutes everything disapp    ears apart from us, waiting for the first drop of rain until the last second. Then in a moment it begins, and we wait for two hours, huddled in the tents. Wind and water competing in a race, sometimes terrorizing, that crosses the lake and passes over our heads, coming to a halt over Kabobo.

Over the horizon, the sun.