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shaunfloyd-blog · 6 years

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namibia to malawi;

there’s a reason i haven’t already written about the post-namibia part of this trip; crossing into botswana and zambia was where i was confronted with real africa for the first time and i wasn’t ready for it. i was in botswana for two hours and received a speeding fine in a zone which had no speed limit sign. the zambian border slugged me for everything imaginable; entry visa, a vehicle temporary import permit, road tax, carbon tax, insurance for a month and some stupid fucking compulsory stickers which were the same colour as my reflectors. then a persistent guy wanted money for having ‘provided security for my car’, the sticker guy ripped me off big time, and the one who had kindly ‘helped’ guide me through the process wanted around fifty bucks, plus there was no cash machine at the border (which turns out to be typical) and he had lent me money so we had to drive 60 k’s to livingstone for cash and he wanted an extra twenty for the taxi back. worst day of my trip.

i’m ashamed to say i enjoyed spending the next couple of days in the company of honest white people but that’s truly how i felt.   you’ve seen pictures of the falls etc. it was luxurious and lovely. i had an indulgent gin and tonic on the swanky royal livingstone sun deck as the sunset and thunderstorm fought gallantly for the crowd’s attention. everything in the town was expensive so i only stayed two nights.

the day i left for lusaka was hot and humid. the worst combination for a temperamental shaunfloyd. i left mid-morning after first running around trying to find a map of the country (the tourist centres don’t stock these), and tightening a few loose nuts on the (t)rusty rav rocket. the 484km drive was the slowest i’ve driven. my speedo is broken so i can’t say exactly how fast i was going but i can say with confidence that i never came close to 100 km/h. dodging goats, cyclists, potholes, overturned trucks, and reckless minibus drivers (with stickers justifying? their carelessness by recommending HAVE FAITH IN GOD), and then slowing to a stop at police roadblocks every hour to tell the uneducated smug police-person where i am going, where am i from, why my drivers license is creased and other equally useless time-wasting questions. and then a toll gate! so my three months of road taxes doesn’t cover this road? aaaargh it was getting to me. after about eight hours of frustration i reached my first real african city and again i wasn’t prepared. it was chaos. i hadn’t bought a zambian sim card so i was relying on a google maps screenshot to guide me to lusaka backpackers. all i had to do was turn right at the big roundabout then take the second right and i was there but my frustrations got the better of me and i turned at the wrong big roundabout and got lost and did a few circles and then it was dark and everything looked menacing so a retraced my steps, got stuck in traffic again, then managed to arrive at the wrong place; flintstones backpackers. what a shithole. a few locals were playing pool in the dingy common area. some greetings crept out of faceless bodies in the shadows followed by mocking laughter. the lady at the reception was uninviting and seemed to sigh throughout the entire check-in process. i had a cold shower, a warm beer and went to bed early, only to be woken regularly throughout the night by locals coming in and each one turning the light on and fumbling to arrange their mosquito net around the bed. i had failed to do this properly and had mosquitoes to add to my discomfort.  the next day i spent the morning waiting for a roll of film to be scanned. in the meantime i went to the nicest cafe i could find which had a sign boasting wifi (i needed to make a call). i ordered and asked about the wifi and it wasn’t working. i went back to the camera place to find the scanner wasn’t working. i got in the car, paid the parking man, paid the car-cleaning man and got the hell outta there. no, actually a cop booked me for running an amber light but actually maybe just half the fine would be suitable if i paid in cash on the spot. hnnnghhhh!

the drive to luangwa river was similar to the previous day except the potholes took over and became small sections of dirt roads, which several trucks had fallen victim to. it was tedious work. another cop pulled me over suggesting that the surfboard between the seats would prevent me from escaping in an emergency. i protested that there is no chance the 30 people crammed into the 12-seat minivans would stand a chance but he insisted i pull over. fortunately his fellow officers were less cruel and let me continue without further hassle.

the river camp was a relaxing change of pace. i joined the alcoholic dutch owner and his ahh young zambian woman-friend in watching some faulty towers. the next day i hiked up a hill for a view of the river and the slow and steady life of the local village fisherman. back on the road and as i drove further east, zambia blended into malawi. the landscape was lush green and hilly. the villages and people started to look more pleasant and well kept and even the police would smile and wish me a safe journey. i stayed my final night in zambia in the upbeat border town of chapata.

at the border i was determined to ignore all the ‘generous’ help and advice of the loiterers and dodgy money exchangers. crossing the zambia side into nomansland was without hassle, just the usual blank unfriendly looks. then i attempted to pay the visa and didn’t have enough cash. so i went to the oneandonly atm, which was out of order. then to the bank support branch which doesn’t do cash withdrawals. *sigh!* so it was drive back 40 k’s to chapata, or give in to the pestering border businessman offering me a loan. i gave in. i got the visa. then the import permit took about an hour, mostly because the staff were busy behind the protection of the glass having breakfast or lunch (it wasn’t the time for either) and gathering around to read a funny article in the paper. after twenty minutes of this one guy pretended to be startled by the gathering queue and approached to tell me to fill out a form and pay the guy next door. the guynextdoor’s system was down so i went back to old mate procrastinator to fill in a substitute ‘ifthesystemisdown’ form. i made it through, paid the malawian insurance and then gave my new loan-friend a ride to the next town to pay him back which was a bit of a shemozzle but we managed. and i was in malawi! relief washed over me as i blah blah blah

ach all this complaining is exhausting so i’ll end there. be warned people. don’t go to zambia. especially lusaka

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