The next morning we awake refreshed in our rondavels and after a stout breakfast of a maize based type porridge we consult the Isangoma and request some guidance. The Witch Doctor insists that we are AbeLungu ‘foam from the sea’ and having thrown his sacred bones and made his divination suggests in no uncertain matter that we return from whence we came. Grabbing the surgeon who has by now regained consciousness, we decide to a man to beat a hasty retreat and exit stage right. Good God whatever next? Fawcett.