Ten of us with nine stories of almost equal merit. Brian told of his word block that stopped him from writing his involved story of smuggling. Ann wrote about a family reuniting after the parents were injured. Sally told an epic tale of a fisherman. Sue's was about her war time memories and her dad's wooden box containing gifts of beads and bangles. Pat's childhood memories were of her adventures at Testwood. Sheila related about playing truant and saving a dog. Joan R told of a family and MS and suicide. My story was about the first world war. Joan E about visiting an Aunt and looking forward to a dance that was a dream.
And John's elected the best story was a search for the mythical Pogo tribe which you can have the pleasure of reading - don't wince at the end.
For another.
My story begins with the trip of a life time to the remote dense forests of the Congo, which before I went filled me with trepidation and anxiety as to what sort of experience I was about to have.
I had agreed to be part of an expedition looking for the lost pogo tribe who had not been seen by the white man for more than 50 years.
We flew to Zambia where we met the guides who would take us over the border into the Congo where hopefully we would make contact with this mysterious tribe. After a couple of days rest we drove the 200 miles to the border, and after unloading our camping and other provisions, we headed off into the jungle
The apprehension and trepidation was very apparent amongst us but we made steady progress and estimated that on the first day we had covered at least 12 miles.
The sights and sounds all around us were so different to home life and never ceased to amaze me.
We continued on for a week or more and apart from the never ending sights and sounds that we had become accustomed to the jungle was a wonderful experience for all of us.
We got used to hunting for food and were lucky enough to have a first class man, one of our guides Jomo, who turned out to be a good shot.
On we travelled for another few days and it became apparent during the third week that we were not alone. Certain signs convinced our guides that we were being watched. this feeling had a different effect on our group compared to the guides who said that we should not worry as the last time the tribe were located they proved to be most hospitable.
At the end of the third week we got our first sight of the members of the Pogo tribe. They appeared fairly shy we soon became friendly with them, and mixed well.
Our guide had a very basic knowledge of their language and so we were able to understand each other and we then set about a documentary film of this fascinating tribe .
There was some discussion with the tribal leaders about rewarding them for their participation and we all thought that the trinkets and baubles that we brought should be adequate. to satisfy these simple people. This was not to be the case, and things turned nasty. We soon felt real fear and apprehension when the tribal leader said that we would have to make a sacrifice that will have a lasting effect upon us all. We have become a group of boy sopranos with our manhood gone forever.
