|For another day we bumped and rolled down dirt roads through isolated hamlets in central Cameroon. If the truck breaks down again we'll be marooned with two malaria patients and a few crates of dried foodstuff. Camping has become routine. One bushcamp looks the same as another. We remember them by picturing where we squatted to relieve ourselves. Somehow these toilet spots always seem distinct and stick out in our memory. It's the only time during the day when we squat, stare, and contemplate the bushes around us. More likely we remember these places because it takes time to find level ground that provides ample privacy. Privacy is the most coveted comfort during these times. If you feel you've found peace in solitude it's a shock to hear someone else in a bush nearby.