Transcription: We went into the town of Bukavu in a sort of taxi-like thing. The town turned out to be an enormous distance from the airport, probably at the insistence of the taxi drivers. As we bounded along the appallingly rutted road that followed the margin of the lake, and along which a significant proportion of the population of Zaire seemed to be walking, our driver kept on diving beneath the dashboard of the car for long periods at a time. I watched this with some alarm, which was severely increased when I eventually worked out what it was he was doing. He was operating the clutch by hand. I wondere ...
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