Photo: Hungry Friends

I threw the mooring line and shouted to the old man on the quayside to quickly take it and secure it. We were drifting towards the rusting dive boat and I desperately needed a fixed line. He was sitting smoking his pipe but he dropped it as he groped for my line. The old man shuffled and crawled and missed. I nearly died on the spot! He had no legs. Marie was horrified and the bunch of Sudanese soldiers standing by the guard post started laughing uncontrollably. I didn't know what to do.

We got the line secured and got ashore. I went to see him but didn't know what to say. He stared at me, me with my big sailing boat and him with no legs. I had much to say to him but in the end said nothing. I offered him some money but he refused it. He then pointed to the black plastic refuse bag I was holding full of rubbish. He asked for that.

As I walked away he was joined by two other men and they poked through my rubbish looking for bits of food. I turned to watch the three of them eagerly devouring the stale bread we'd had onboard for some considerable time. We walked down the street into the main town and saw much worse. I was agitated and distressed.

Why is the world such a crazy place?
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