Indombo is a very small village tucked away in a very large jungle. This is sure to be both the first and the last time that you’ll ever hear of it. It remains practically untouched by modern civilisation – like a time capsule sealed within a thick layer of trees. There’s no electricity, no phone reception and not a scrap of concrete in sight. It really is out of this world.

Recently, I was lucky enough to spend a night there with Keary, my fellow researcher. Getting to it wasn’t easy and the road seemed to stretch on for an eternity, with us bouncing around in the back of the jeep. Eventually though, like a mirage in a desert, Indombo appeared out of the foliage in all of its simple splendor.

The village consisted of little more than a few wooden shacks, stacked side-by-side along the edge of the road. There, our jeep came to a noisy halt. Everyone - from the women nursing their babies, to the men chopping firewood, to the children chasing each other through the dust – fell silent and still. Even the chickens froze mid strut. Clearly it had been a while since they’d last seen a four-wheeled vehicle, never mind two strange foreigners.

Earning our keep

The Chief - a small, old lady, visibly stooped by the sheer weight of her wisdom – came out to greet us. After a quick introduction she agreed to let us sleep in the village for the night and then collect data in the forest the next day, in exchange for some manual labour of course.

That labour involved removing seeds from forest fruits, which would later be ground up into an edible paste. I sat on the dusty floor of a small shack, surrounded by village women, as we all rhythmically flicked the grains onto a growing pile in the center. They spoke mostly just Kota, a local tribal language, but we knew enough French between us to get a decent conversation going about the weather.

Team bonding

Next on the agenda was a soccer match with the local lads. I tried to explain to them the rules of Gaelic football, but I may as well have been showing them how to update a Facebook status, for all they cared, so soccer it was. I picked one team and Keary picked another and then we were off. The entire village came out to watch, elders alongside toddlers. It was a close match but I’m proud to say ‘Team Megan’ stole the win, 4-2.

Understandably, I was a sweaty mess after running around for over an hour in the equatorial heat. The Chief noticed this and quickly lead me to a shack where I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I was to undress and take a bucket shower, with her. I was given no choice in the matter. So, I did as I was told and with that washed away whatever fragments of a comfort zone I may have had left. It was very refreshing!

Afterward, I joined the rest of the community for a disco in a hut complete with a battery powered hi-fi system and a few glasses of homemade palm wine. Everyone squeezed into the little wooden structure and danced the night away, with Keary and I – the outsiders – in the center of it all. I’ve been to some wild nightclubs in my time but that little hut in the middle of nowhere is one I’ll never forget!

Unfortunately, the music did eventually stop and before I knew it, it was time to return to my real world. I really didn’t want to leave though. I’d come to love the village, its happy, resilient people and their simple, carefree way of life. As we drove away the next day the locals waved their goodbyes and I watched as Indombo once again disappeared into the jungle, as if it had never even existed.