Izava Walk : Preparations

Izava Walk : Preparation
I contacted three friends of mine - a guy and two ladies - for the adventure that lay ahead. This was a week prior. Thinking that they'd participate in organising for logistics (not money), on the day we were to meet, one texted;

"Aq Party I won't make it. My father said the adventure is dangerous."

There were many ways  I'd have texted her back. In a resigned manner, I replied, 'No prob,' which was not different from what I reasoned with one - the guy - who attended. He was more of a spectator this time yet we had  sat and researched together earlier on. The remaining girl could have joined me but which picture could it be?

After replying 'No Prob,'  I minimized the tab and stole a glance on Vihiga County Professionals page. There being no one interested by replying to my status of seeking an adventurous soul, I snapshotted it. Back, she had quickly responded, 'But take many pictures...I will see them.' And me, 'well.'

Preparations included putting the number of days away in mind. Largely it was about 'removing' any worry in the brain. Going out to do your own research is not as cushioned as doing research for a person or a firm. You are broke, useless, lonely and vulnerable. But men have tamed big rivers like Congo! Save a rivulet in comparison!

The WHY question is foreign. I just wanted to see the river through! I like adventure. I wanted better entries for my diary! As a young boy I used to swim in the river and it was 'big'. Now, somehow grown, it were better to tame Izava from being 'big' to being a 'Friend.' Can a river be befriended?

In a way, interviewing people near the river would top up on historical and social knowledge I was inclined to collect. Deal. I'd also have a contemporary picture of environmental changes and impacts as the river passes. Walking by valley bottom is an all time pleasuring activity.

One day I had took off by bike to Siaya. From Khumusalaba, I cycled down to Yala. As I neared Yala junction, a river ran beneath. A man who was from a bath at the nearby bend showed me the writing by the bridge covered in bush: P.W.D EDZAVA RIVER BRIDGE (YALA) 1934. Passionate to be shown where Izava ends, for he'd mentioned it was a few minutes walk, he lead me to the opposite side of the swamp and pointed- there! I'd only sigh.

Knowing the end, I took off to seek the start. The voyage would follow soon.