Marvellous Mud

Every step a challenge!

As a kid I loved reading the book ‘The Marvellous Mud Washing Machine’ by P Wolcott. I could have done with such a machine during our recent adventures in Gulf Province.

Going down to Gulf, we knew that it was the wet season and it would be muddy. We knew there had recently been flooding in the area. We did not know that king tides would continue to provide more flooding. We were not really prepared for the challenge all this mud would present, but here is the story of our survival!

The mud was everywhere. I took reef shoes to wear in it, not to keep me clean, but to prevent my sole from being pierced. These did a reasonable job, until they were so drenched from constant inundation that my feet started to slip within the shoes and they just felt bad to put on. At this point I gave up on footwear and went barefoot.

How blessed are the feet...

The mud was on flat surfaces. Sometimes it was deep and you never knew when a step would bottom out. Sometimes these surfaces were covered in water and you would walk without seeing your feet, wondering when they would find or lose traction. Sometimes it would spurt between my toes and spatter paint my entire leg. A walk that would be maybe 10 minutes in dry season took 45 as we squelched and slipped our way along its length.

The toilet death walk!

The mud was on logs and walkways. These had been laid to help keep people out of the worst of the mud, but it was tracked onto their surfaces by feet. This then meant negotiating a log bridge that had an extra coating of slipperiness. Often these log walkways were the path to the outhouse. At one place, falling off the outhouse approach meant falling over a metre onto sago thorns below. In another, the logs kept floating around on the king tides and rearranging themselves into a new outhouse challenge each morning.

Wading at school

The mud was renewed by the tides, so that the sun had little chance of drying the ground out. We started to plan around the tide, walking to church before it was more than ankle deep and only coming home once the ebb was well underway. We sat in a school as the tide flowed beneath us. I could watch it through the cracks in the floor.  We waded to the next class room when it was time for the next activity.

The mud was on slopes. One step upwards could easily be a half step back, as gravity made its claim on my progress. In another place I considered sitting on a banana leaf and tobogganing down to the river as my best approach to the clay slope. I didn’t do it, but I did make it down safely, thanks to help from a local lady.

Humbled.

Locals are used to the mud and prepared for it. Every building has a foot washing bucket ready and a damp rag to wipe your feet on. In at least one place I had a lady wash my feet for me, pouring on water and rubbing off the mud. It was a humbling experience.

All the mud was a memorable part of our time in Gulf, but it did not define it. We were still able to get around, spend time with people and get work done. Still, I’m happy to be away from it for awhile!