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Mud and mayhem ensue

While enduring the usual boring questions at the police station – Where you from? What your name? Where are go you? – a youth in a baseball cap spun backwards, and with all his top front teeth missing, skipped up to me on the verandah. He was my next driver, I worked out. Once again, the bush telegraph between police stations was taking care of me. This time, a private car had been sent to transport me to the border, for free. I was so amazed I wanted to refuse the generosity.

But I thanked the group of officers and jumped in. The youth couldn’t speak a word of English but he could drive. And that’s all that mattered. I’d been forewarned that the road from Sambas to the new Indonesian-Malaysian border, Aruk, was bad. Road from Sambas to the Indonesia-Malyasian Border at NightBut I had no idea we were about to negotiate a sparsely populated soaking wet 4×4 track, through the night, with no backup vehicle or wheel chains, no spare fuel, limited mobile phone reception and just 500ml of fruit juice between us.

But that wasn’t my worry – I rather like taking chances. My bother was that my Indonesian visa would expire at 5pm the next day, so I’d have to arrive at the frontier at least 2 hours before that. What I was told was “a 90-km drive” turned into a 9.5-hour slide across a jungle mud-bath. Our vehicle may have well have entered the local off-roading challenge. For that’s all we experienced: wheel-spinning, endless high revving, crab-walking, mud-flicking, muddy water-bouncing and sump-scraping from sunset to just before sunrise in a hilly landscape coated in tall forest trees and fewer than one dim light shining through the darkness per 20 minutes’ lookout. This was the closest my journey had brought me to what Kalimantan is famed for: jungle.

Clay-like mud up to the wheel nuts became the norm, through which the skilled partially-toothed youth negotiated very well – until he under-estimated the size of another puddle. The sump dug into the mud as murky water splashed against the doors and mud splattered the mirrors, the wheels began spinning freely and the car leaned to the left. We weren’t going anywhere. A chorus of insect life erupted from the uninterrupted black cloak of muggy night air all around. There was nothing to see, almost nothing to hear and nobody on their way.

The youth wasn’t having any of this: he revved and revved so much I was convinced we were about to break down too. I watched the rev counter strike 6,000 as he depressed the accelerator while the mud on the other side of my window didn’t move. I felt as if I was in a baby’s rocking chair, moving a few centimteres forward, backward and forward again. This went on for close to 30 minutes because there was no timber easily accessible for placing under the tyres.

We were set free by some passing truckersAnd a flash! A run-down truck heading for the border settlement decelerated against the car’s right flank. A 15-minute operation involving 8 well-built bare-chested men ensued to free the car, but I’d been told to sit still since I couldn’t speak the language and would therefore just be a nuisance.

We ramped out of the hole, leaving jungle water sloshing back and forth. In the headlights I saw how dirty the men were and all I could offer them to clean their hands were supplies from my urination bucket. I’d carried women’s menstruation pads all the way from Bali, to help me keep my device dry. But now the pads, I believed, would be better used by these men. I passed out 30 pads hoping they’d find them useful. But not these men! The noisy insect life was completely drowned out by the raucous belly laughter my offerings caused. Splattered in mud, the men hopped back into their truck and its driver cranked over its engine. Where the pads went to is anyone’s guess.

Why not find out for yourself what new adventures and excitement you can experience when entrapped in your own CB-X Male Chastity device – with 15% off all orders over £40 placed before 31st December 2014 with free UK delivery.

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