"This old thing is at least forty years old, right?"
Jack patted the bumpy hood of the old Jiefang, his fingers seemingly inadvertently rubbing over the line of faded traditional Chinese characters on the side that read "First Automobile Manufacturing Plant."
The red "Jiefang" characters on the front of the car were almost unrecognizable.
(Photo of an old Jiefang truck that has been restored in China, diagram)
"Even if I die, my old buddy can still keep running." Old Muto snorted, opened the car door and prepared to get in.
"Detective Pollino, maybe we can switch seats." Jack stopped the black detective who was about to get in the passenger seat and gestured for him to get in the Hummer that was coming from his side.
Detective Pollino had a half-smile on his face, as if he was mocking this young American who was working hard.
"This car isn't as comfortable as yours,"
Jack smiled back. "I know, but as a first-timer in Africa, I'm curious about everything here, and that vantage point allows me to appreciate Africa's beauty from a better perspective."
The
scenery along the way was truly stunning, once again shattering everyone's stereotypes about Africa.
First, the temperature. The most wanted criminals noticed it the moment they disembarked from the plane. It wasn't scorching, in fact, quite comfortable.
Remember, it was February, and they were in the Southern Hemisphere, not too far from the equator. But while the sun was a bit scorching, the wind blowing through the windows brought a noticeable coolness.
This is because Tanzania's terrain is high in the northwest and low in the southeast. Only a narrow strip of land along the southeastern coast, below 200 meters above sea level, has a true tropical climate.
Arusha, where Jack and his companions were currently, is situated on a plateau over 1,000 meters above sea level. To the north lies Mount Kilimanjaro, and to the northwest lies the renowned Serengeti savannah. It attracts a constant stream of tourists from all over the world year-round.
Although the local roads were so dilapidated that everyone had already suffered a setback on their arrival, and the road trip was inevitably filled with bumps and dust, if one ignored this and gazed into the distance, one would see a vast expanse of green along the way.
Cheetahs, wildebeests, zebras, giraffes, African elephants, and all the other African animals Jack had seen in "Animal World" in his previous life roamed leisurely in their respective territories.
If there was an African paradise, it would probably be Tanzania, with water covering 6.5% of its land area and bordering three of the world's largest lakes.
To the north lies Lake Victoria, Africa's largest freshwater lake and one of the sources of the famous Nile River.
To the west lie two great lakes: Lake Tanganyika, the world's second deepest after Lake Baikal, and Lake Malawi, Africa's third largest.
Where there are lakes, there are rivers, and where there are rivers, there is no shortage of forests and vegetation. Consequently, nearly half of Tanzania's land is covered in forest, with the remainder being arable land and grassland.
Countless animals migrate and reproduce across Africa, following the dry and rainy seasons. But many of them never leave Tanzania.
The only reason the country is so impoverished is that it lacks a continuous civilization.
Centuries of colonial history have failed to bring the so-called civilization some claim. Arabs, Germans, British, and other white colonizers have come and gone, leaving behind nothing but their brainwashing religion.
Jack was surprised by the clarity of the black man known as Old Muto, and even more surprised to hear such profound self-analysis from him.
As for why the old man spoke these words to Jack, when an American could speak fluent Chinese and recite a quotation from the Little Red Book on the train, his skin color seemed less important. He was the son of a
chieftain from an extinct tribe, a second-generation railroad worker on the Tanzania-Zambia Railway, and a veteran officer who had received formal military training in Shijiazhuang.
After listening to the old man's story, Jack felt less surprised.
Although Old Muto had been wary of someone with FBI credentials, he gradually lowered his guard when he learned their purpose was to search for missing tourists.
"It's not as chaotic as the outside world imagines, at least not in this country. While some scoundrels occasionally sneak in, they're like the migrating wildebeest, using this place as a resting and roosting place."
Old Muto patted the truck's fender behind him and shouted a few times. The young black people on board cheered, then burst into laughter and broke into song in the local dialect.
"We have a disciplined army that maintains the stability of this country, ensuring it won't be torn apart by religion or external interference."
"So who do you think was behind this kidnapping?" Jack smiled back, then asked over the slightly off-key singing in the car behind him.
Old Muto smiled back, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. "I don't know. That's your job.
But I can assure you, if any guerrillas or armed groups from neighboring forces sneak in here, I'll be informed in advance.
My men and I will fully assist you and yours. The tourists who come here every year are very important to Arusha and the country, and we don't want this place to have a bad reputation."
After nearly two hours of bumpy ride, a rusty railway bridge appeared before them, looking ready to collapse at any moment.
Old Muto stopped the car and slammed the door. The militia, who had just been as cheerful and boisterous as a group of students on a spring outing, suddenly quieted down.
When the two men got out, the young black men had already quickly gotten out and formed a line beside the car.
Jack noticed that their formation wasn't just a simple line of soldiers. Except for the first one on the right, who was a little older and looked like a squad leader, the others were arranged from right to left, from tallest to shortest.
This meant that these militiamen could not only tell left from right but also remember who was standing next to them. This might not sound difficult, but remember that this was Africa, a land where over 60% of the population was illiterate.
"Now I know why you're leading the way," Hannah complained, brushing off the dust, her bright blond hair dulling considerably.
The two Humvees they were riding in had been gathering dust behind the old Liberation, and now both the vehicles and the people were covered in dust.
"This is the section where you have to slow down when the train passes." Detective Pollino removed his beret, patted it twice, and put it back on, squinting at the precarious railway bridge.
It was already afternoon, and the sun had set in the west, facing the direction they had come from. The bridge stood about seven or eight meters above the valley floor.
As they approached, they noticed that the bridge had undergone some repairs. Although it was minor, it wasn't as fragile as it appeared.
"Maybe we should go up and take a look."
Aubrey simulated the scene in his mind. "The train must have started to slow down from a long distance away, and it will slow down to its lowest speed as it approaches the railway bridge. So the best place to get off is..."
Following the direction of his finger, everyone's eyes fell on the south side of the railway bridge.
My son's 10th birthday is tomorrow, and I might have to take him out to play. I'll try my best to finish the update, uh... try my best
(end of this chapter)