I thought I was being savvy by not paying for another night at the backpackers before catching the 3am bus to Maputo, a couple of us had attempted to do an all-nighter… and failed miserably. (Preparing for this by staying out until 4 the previous night probably hadn't been a genius plan.) When the bar we had sneakily and briefly slept in was closing, we headed to the backpackers at the pick-up point to sleep beneath the stars. How idyllic: curled up in a hammock by the beach under the starlit sky. It turns out Mozambique can get rather cold at night, and attempting to avoid sandflies while curling up in far-too-small hammocks did not lead to a particularly sound night's sleep - having said that, I'll probably tell the romantic first version now that the aching sleepiness has subsided!

Arriving in Maputo, I was feeling pretty rough and my stomach was not in a good state, so while the guys were awesomely sorting my life out for me - tents, blankets, food, etc - I had a nap. I woke up hearing Swedish and, after an initial disoriented moment, turned around to meet Kajsa and Clara. After introducing ourselves we worked out that we would actually be sharing a tent at the festival together with Lili and the guys! Lili and I drowsily but excitedly headed out to find an internet cafe and book our tickets. We didn't have any idea how we were getting there from Maputo, but having spoken to the barman we bought tickets for a "funbus" which he assured would be a pre-party full of festival-goers to get us in the mood! Tickets, transport, and accommodation sorted, we were ready to head out and got a good night's sleep to get keen for the next day.

A couple of hours late ("Africa-time") we were told our ride had arrived… Imagine our shock when the amazing funbus turned out to be a small car that only just squeezed the four passengers and driver in along with bags. We crossed the border smoothly, but after a few hours (in the tiny country of Swaziland that basically means going from one end of the country to the other) it became apparent that our driver had no idea where we were going, and I - having browsed a newspaper advertisement earlier - did. We had driven past three possible turn-offs, and I was starting to lose my cool just a tad. I took out the map from the newspaper and, through clenched teeth (especially when asked "really, are you sure? could I see the map?") slowly and clearly directed the decidedly un-fun un-bus to the festival which was by now in full swing. When we miraculously bumped into some familiar faces from Tofo Beach, Lili and I left all our worldly possessions in a friend's tent and headed into the festival determined to shake off the transport rage and get party-ing! The vibe in there was great and chilled, and after some food we found a small venue where Beau, Sten, and Luke were bopping away to French beatboxing group Under Kontrol. After a few hours of festival-ing, I decided the strange Slovakian rock group were not good enough for me to stay awake for. We hunted down the tent we'd left our stuff in, snuck in un-detected by it's snoring inhabitant, and found our tents welcomingly filled with blankets and an already snoozing Beau. With the guarantee that it was the right tent Lili and I crawled in and huddled up for the night.

The next day, I woke up amazingly fresh considering I'd shared a tent with four other people, including a couple not-as-quietly-as-they-thought getting it on. I restlessly got up and joined our tent-neighbours in their random conversation. After coffee and breakfast we headed in to the festival grounds to suck up the vibe and enjoy some completely different music - Pedro the music man had the audience blowing into little rubber tubes that worked like whistles, making brilliant music, while a couple of guys did some traditional Zulu dancing to it. There were non-music things going on too, like a little art gallery with a photography competition going on, a traditional Swazi area with clothes and information about the culture, plenty of awesome food and drink, and combined with the amazing backdrop of the hills of Swaziland and the perfect weather, everything came together to create a rather epic vibe. That night was the busiest, with thousands of people coming from neighbouring countries to enjoy the fun. Despite the crowds, I bumped into Herman and his wife who I had met in Vilanculos and spent some lovely days and evenings with - it was great to see them again as we'd lost track of each other in Moz. That night was immense. Because it wasn't a huge festival and the area was relatively small, everyone had the freedom to check out whatever they wanted without the worry of getting completely lost, and I enjoyed meandering between the various stages. The acts all merge into one another in memory, but the excitement and enjoyment of fellow festival-goers when a familiar group came on was electric and I joyfully danced the night away!

I woke up on Sunday feeling the most hungover I had felt since after those crazy Via Via nights in Arusha. As the sun came up and the tent - which this time had accommodated seven of us as the other tent required privacy - became a steamy, stinking bubble, I literally crawled out and into the nearest spot of shade. There I stayed, with the exception of getting water and "visiting the facilities", for a number of hours in recovery mode. Being made to move when an actual (mini) bushfire broke out not far from the tents - the irony was not lost on the many festival-goers thinking they were hilarious and original in their jokes - my hangover prevented the true potential severity of the situation sink in, but luckily the festival organisers were more useful and put the fire out. Having been roused by the beautiful tunes wafting over the airwaves along with the drama of the campsite, I gingerly made my way to the festival. Finding a bunch of buddies, new and old, gathered at the main stage, I apologetically approached and was blessed with a welcome wave of relief as it became clear that I had not been offensive or undignified - at least not unacceptably so - the night before. Winner! As I began to re-appreciate my existence, I took in my surroundings and soaked it up: The a capella group Ladysmith Black Mambazo reinvigorated my love for life, and with the stunning backdrop of the Swazi hills glistening in the sunshine, surrounded by a happy, beautiful, diverse bunch of lovely people I got a lump in my throat and my goosebumps served as testament to the power of Ladysmith's voices. Followed by the legendary Oliver Mtukudzi (Tuku), Sunday afternoon unexpectedly turned out to be my favourite moment of the entire festival. I started wishing I'd had the foresight to plan to stay there another night, but as we hadn't (and were actually looking forward to a bed), the sad prospect of packing up lay ahead. With nobody possessing the drive to pack up the tent, we shamefully left them (didn't trash them, mind you, so they will probably be recycled and put to good use!) and headed to find a nearby backpackers - a surprisingly easy feat thanks to the fact that the festival is held in the most "touristy" area of Swaziland.

My Bushfire festival experience was one of the most fun, relaxing, and soul-enhancing weekends of my entire trip. To think that I was so close to passing up on it for an extra week or two on a (admittedly beautiful) beach, I have absolutely no regrets. I met some great, fascinating people, and will simply have to learn to surf another time! :-)