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Sun 23 Jan Across the way from the guesthouse is a dusty, litter strewn, seasonal water course. At the top end there is a large sandy area where donkey caros congregate to take-on water from a sort of municipal "fire" hydrant. Beyond and behind is an earth mound with mature shady trees planted along the top. I realise this must be the town reservoir I had once seen from the air.
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| Donkey caro, collecting water |
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As the fence is far from complete I step across the line and up the bank. It's a beautiful sight, a rectangular pool about the size of a football pitch. The water is a mysterious deep greeny brown colour; the surface sparkles in the sunlight. The mud bank is wide enough for a track lined with an avenue of mature trees making for a delightfully dappled walkway. I can see several people on the other side, none in uniform, so I take a chance and walk along. I am soon met and greeted by a no- doubt senior, responsible worker who takes it upon himself to guide me around. He shows me an outlet that he says is for electricity (though I can't see how it can be a generator) and further around we come to the only obvious inlet: a dribbling eight inch pipe which he tells me is from Barah (a town 75km to the north). Further around still is a pumping station, not far from a periphery metal girder water tower. As we complete the circuit my guide points to the hole in the fence and shakes my hand. I thank him enthusiastically and take the hint.Continuing on my way I pass a few "African" huts, round mud-daubed hovels with grass roofs - the sort you'd see in rural areas away from a main road - but strange here on the edge of town. Across a stretch of open scrub I can see more buildings and in the distance: streetlights. I realise they are lining the main road south, from where I can easily get transport back into town. With still plenty of time before breakfast I decide to continue. Then I saw the soldier.
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