Half a dozen camo clad guys walked up to the wooden jetty and checked us over, with a scornful air, before they walked back to the shade of one of the nearby wood and corrugated iron shelters, where they settled in with beer and cigarettes, and carelessly leant their AKs against the rough table. Their arrival coincided with the sudden disappearance of everyone who usually worked, mended and dryed fishing nets, or sold vegetables, dried fish or bush meat by the dusty road. Except for the waitresses in their chosen watering hole, who didn’t look too happy about all the new business.
Japhet and I looked at each other wordlessly, and he reached to start the diesel engine, while I stepped over onto the rough planks, cast off the nylon mooring lines, and stepped back aboard. “We can tie up to that tree by the big rocks over there, it's close enough that the other guys will find us easily when they get back with the soil samples, and should be out of the direct line if anything starts.” -------