I Smoked Weed for the First Time in Seven Years and Bumped into a Hippo
“Do you wanna hit?”
“Not really”, I replied.
We had been driving through Namibia’s bush all day, suffering multiple punctures and sweating profusely into the Toyota’s canvas seats.
The last thing I wanted was to smoke a strain of weed called ‘Train Wreck’.
“Suit yourself”, said the pangolin researcher, as she puffed away on her vaporiser.
I looked at my three companions, spilling out of the second car and marvelled that we were now considered a ‘Film Crew’.
15 months ago we had set off from Kenya in two Piaggio tuk-tuks intending to drive them to Cape Town, without dying.
There had been multiple close calls…
The landslide in Tanzania, the elephant ambush in Zimbabwe and getting dragged behind a sailboat by a fishing line on a voyage to Zanzibar.
On top of not dying, we had also picked up the art of ‘filmmaking’. People were getting in touch with these four unwashed tuk-tuk pirates, to produce films for their lodges and organisations.
