“Livingston I Presume?”

Mr. Livingston met Mr. Stanley with the famous words, “Livingston I presume?”

on the Lake shore of Tanganyika in 1871. Livingston had been missing for years and was presumed dead. We had to visit to this monument, which is a mere13 km down the road from the HOUSE. Thus, hailing an eager driver and negotiating a price (20,000 BF – a bit less that $20 US) we speed along at break neck speeds as norm in this country. “Lentament!” I shout to the driver over the racket of loose muffler and clattering doors as he swerves, narrowly missing bikes piled high with chickens. The gearshift in this rattling Toyota was coming out of the frame. No doors opened from the inside. Seat cushioning was trying to escape like plumes of spider eggs.

The “monument” is a giant rock in the middle of what could pass as a paddock. “Livingston Stanley 27  X  18” it reads, the letters etched carefully in the speckled sandstone. No tourist center. No plaque with a time line. No tourist brochures or overpriced trinkets or parking area for the tour buses. Just a rock. Goats roam in the scant grass. In a circular rotunda one fellow was gaily sawing on a fly ridden goat carcass. We get mobbed by the local men – as always. Dirty snot faced children stand at a distance while the older ones dare come closer, one with a chewed mango seed clutched in grubby hands. The men want a Canadian visa, money, pens and our cell number (what do you mean you don’t have a cell phone they say?) The kids want (or need) a bath.

We are thankful the taxi driver is waiting under the tree.