Air cargo destined for the camp failed to arrive in Makokou, and our fresh food was off-loaded in Libreville several times. ‘What the hell’s going on down there?’ I yelled over the radio to Doug one morning. ‘Hardware we can wait for, but food we need now.’ ‘It’s this confounded fête, Nettie. We’ve got no control over government requisitions on cargo space. If it doesn’t improve, I’ll charter a plane to get your food up there.’ At times I wondered if the Libreville staff really understood how it felt for us being at the end of the line, at the mercy of every glitch in the transport system. ‘We’ll hold you to that,’ I replied tersely. I’d had complaints from all the expatriates about the lack of fresh vegetables for dinner and mail from home. All the supply problems stemmed from the fact that festivities for la fête – the anniversary of independence, celebrated annually on 17 August – would focus on Makokou that year. The preparations for it would distort commerce and transport in our region for a month.
