Once we had revived ourselves with the sort of mug of tea that makes the desert bloom and angels sing, we rattled and rolled our way back to our base, which was a small visitors’ village of huts on the edge of Garamba National Park, separated from it by a small river. We were currently the only visitors to the park, which, as I say, is the size of part of Scotland. This is quite surprising because the park is one of Africa’s richest. It is situated in northeast Zaïre, on the border with Sudan, and takes its name from the Garamba River, which meanders from east to west through the park. Its
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