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Earlier in the morning we moved back into the jungle and started heading home, slowly getting our egos back into shape. At that time we did not know the strength of the enemy force. When we saw a small group of people crossing the savannah we decided to ambush them and interrogate the prisoners. An old fellow that we took prisoner explained what was going on around us. He told us about the size of the enemy force and the types of weapons they had and we started understanding the extent of the trouble we were in. According to him over 200 guerrilla were concentrated there under the command of a famous leader called Kuangungo Kuenhe. I knew Kuenhe from before the war; he was cousin of Chissanga my friend GE that was killed the day before.

Chico Salazar and I in the Omema Kusivala region hunting

The reputation of Kuenhe was already considerable in the area. He had his base in Omema Kusivala (black water lagoon), south west of Kirongosi. Later on we learnt that the MPLA had decided to change their strategy and started operating conventional warfare size units.

They were following the guerrilla manuals to the letter: Guerrilla warfare is invincible but can not win in its original form. After the enemy infra structures are destroyed or inoperative due to the guerrilla activities you should move into the conventional war and gain control of the country... They believed the time was right...Big mistake as time proved.

The enemy, alerted by the noise of the ambush launched groups after us and we spent the rest of the day playing cat and mouse again.

We moved away from the banks of the Lomba river towards the Kirongosi lagoon taking a long route to confuse the enemy. The south of Angola is the beginning of the Kalahari and Namibe deserts. During the day the temperature soared to 45 degrees Celsius and higher and at night below zero close to the rivers. Once we left the Lomba river, we would not have any water until the Kirongosi lagoon and our water was fast running out. Only few of us had the canteen with us at the time of the attack. We kept walking for more than one hour after the dark of the nigh surrounded us. That way the enemy would not be able to follow our trail. We spent another night exposed to the bitter cold -no camp fires and story telling this time- and started moving at the first light.

Cubia river near Mavinga

With the sun rising, the temperatures quickly climbed to the forties and we all started feeling the effects of the thirst. Close to mid day I looked at sergeant Pina and could see his lips were swallow and the signs of dementia setting in. He was continuously repeating :”I would rather drown than die like that.”. We stopped and decided to wait for the day to cool down before moving again.

Cassanga one of the soldiers in my combat group was a member of the Cuanhama tribe in the south west of Angola. Cuanhamas are used to the harsh Namibe desert weather and lack of water does not seem to affect them as much as it affects others. Cassanga approached me and asked if he could continue walking because he believed that water was not  far away. I agreed and he left with the understanding that if he found water he would fire three shots in rapid succession.

 

Definitely not the way we slept after the disaster

We cut some bissapas (small bushes) and laid down covering our faces with them to avoid the assault of the honey flies. I can not remember how long we laid there trying to forget about the thirst, constantly hearing Pina mumbling in his delirium and asking to die by drowning.

Suddenly from very far we heard three shots and nothing could have triggered such explosion of energy from our tired bodies. We all shouted: “ Water!!!” and ran in the direction of the sound.

When we finally arrived there we found a  “beautiful and inviting” mulola (small open area in the jungle ) with a cacimba (small water hole) with putrid water were wild animals drunk and did everything else they felt like. Everyone dived in and started drinking as if it was the best cocktail in the world. In a flash of brilliance my brain reminded me about the billions of germs swimming in that water an I took my handkerchief and very wisely used it as a filter and started sucking water through it. Soon my survival instinct overpowered sanity and told me that not enough water was filtering through. “Forget about the germs and start drinking properly you fool” a voice said. The horrible smell of ammonia, probably from animal's urine did not stop us from drinking until we could not take any more.

We refilled the canteens with that beautiful concoction and continue towards the Kirongosi lagoon. We realise then that the old man, our prisoner was no longer with us. He may not have shared the desired for water with the same intensity as we did.

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