When envisioning the trip, we had agreed that once it got dark, we would be most comfortable up in the tent. We wondered whether or not we would become comfortable enough to hang out after dark around the campfire. Aided by gin and tonics and evening chores, this first night we stayed up well after dark.
Before climbing the ladder up into the tent, we did go together to the pit toilet a short distance away. Staying up after dark around camp was never an issue again.
We’re here! Our gravel road has turned into a single vehicle track, and the dry weather allows us to drive the more scenic road along the river and the eastern edge of the park. We’re anxious to start spotting wildlife – it’s one of the biggest reasons we are here.
As we cruise north, we do spot some birds and animals. But, as we leave the last human settlements, we find that the most abundant wildlife are tsetse flies. They are persistent, voracious, and hard to kill. I got a few bites, but they found Steve irresistible. We quickly retreated behind rolled up windows and air conditioning, spending the next few kilometers smashing the flies trapped in the car. Simply smacking them only stuns them, so that they drop to the floor to regain their senses enough to bite feet and ankles. Smashing, crushing and stomping are required. They are relatively slow-moving as far as flies go, and we discovered that our field guides and journals worked best as fly swatters.
We arrived at Nanzhila Plains Safari Camp about mid afternoon. We were greeted by our hostess, Ruth, who urged us to abandon our fly-riddled vehicle for the boma, overlooking a dambo, and miraculously fly-free. It’s hot outside of the air conditioning and the cold drink Ruth offers goes down easily.
In quick succession, we see the arrival of Ruth’s husband, Brad, and then Vivienne and Tom Heineken, our would-be hosts at our next camp, Kaingu. Tom and Viv are traveling to Johannesburg, and stopped at Nanzhila Plains on their way out of Kafue. They asked if we could deliver a key and 20 liters of petrol when we travel to Kaingu in three days. We agreed, becoming part of the bush delivery network.
Soon after, two British couples arrived, having traveled south to spend the night in Nanzhila’s chalets. They were also self-driving, but it was clear that at least half of their group were having serious problems with tsetse fly bites. We were told that if we stay out of the trees we should be able to stay out of the flies. That seemed to be true as we watched a pair of waddled cranes dance their courting dance and the kingfishers hunt at the edge of the dambo.
The big news of the camp was that a pair of lions had been through the previous night, walking right through the camp. Just what I worried about most: trying to cook and eat dinner at dusk, only to have lions stroll into the area – oh boy!
We headed over to our campsite as the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. Steve wanted to go out driving again. But, I took one look at the lion tracks all over our campsite and decided I’d rather get all the cooking and bucket showering done before dark.
The camp staff built a fire and put on a bucket of water to warm for our showers. I rummaged through all the camping gear, trying to find things I needed, looking back over my shoulder every 10-15 seconds. We had a simple dinner: potatoes wrapped in foil and tucked in the coals, green beans and onions in a small cast iron casserole, and two steaks. Steve showered while I put things together, and I showered while Steve grilled the steaks.
It was dark when we finished, and Steve napped in his camp chair while I cleaned up and washed dishes. By now, I had somewhat relaxed, possibly aided by my pre-dinner gin and tonic. There were other campers in the two adjoining sites, so I hoped that all the activity would keep the lions away – if they were even still in the area.
I hoped for lions after we were safely tucked into our rooftop tent. Steve woke me sometime later that night from a dead sleep to the neighborly howling of a hyena. I was awake the rest of the night, listening for critters prowling under our tent.
For me, the start of the adventure was leaving Livingstone. The amplified start was leaving pavement and turning into the bush. And the hyper-amplified start was going through the Dumdum Gate and into Kafue National Park, one of the largest national parks in the world. We had learned and been briefed that Kafue — especially southern Kafue — was seldom visited and seldom patrolled and we should be prepared to see no one else. This is where ‘attitude’ comes into play: If Rover had broken down we were entirely ready to use the sat phone and the numbers Safari Drive had given us if we needed help and just camp out and wait. Carolyn and I talked about this and agreed in advance of the trip. Once through the gate the road became more primitive and rough and it all became much more remote.
This day, the first real day of high adventure was one of our longest drive days and we experienced many many new mini-challenges. It turned out that the GPS unit was sometimes useful in showing us the way, but it was much more useful at reassuring us we were on the right path.
We reached the southern entrance to Kafue National Park in good time. Marked by two square buildings with high, pointed thatch roofs and single-arm gate, our arrival is clearly the event of the day. The gate area is its own village, although there were concrete block houses, rather than the mud brick structures with the thatched roofs. Chickens, laundry on the line and a crying baby all told us this was an occupied outpost.
Three young men came down to meet us at the gate, one in the official green ZAWA (Zambia Wildlife Authority) uniform. Steve went into the gate house to take care of business while I stayed in the rover, and made pleasantries with the other two men. Two more men joined them, and I started to wonder what was taking Steve so long. I had already handed over $260 in cash for entrance and camping fees for four days.
I got out of the rover, and walked around to see Steve talking pleasantly with the ZAWA gatekeeper, who was filling out forms in triplicate with carbon paper. As Steve collected all the proper forms and permits, I walked around back to the passenger side of the rover, and greeted the men in English. They were polite, but their English was not well-practiced. One man asked about my camera. I looked confused as I had been very careful to stash as much of our equipment as possible. He then gestured to the top of his head, indicating that he meant my sunglasses, which I had pushed off of my face to the top of my head. (I did this as a regular practice when talking to people – talking to people with my sunglasses on just seems rude.) I said, “Oh, my sunglasses,” and he said, “You give to me?” I was startled by the request, and my instant reaction was, “Oh no, I need them!” Everyone laughed, but as I got in the rover, I realized that I reacted that way because I needed the sunglasses to shield my eyes with contact lenses from the dust. But, how was he to know that? Rather, he was trying to score something from the wealthy American tourists. Or was he? Did he think to set up a trade, not understanding the price of a pair of sunglasses? According to the visitor log at the gate, the last people to come through were four days ago. Clearly, traffic is light through this gate. But, this man had enough experience with tourists to ask for sunglasses. It was the first time we had experienced more than smiles, waves and polite greetings from the local Zambians. It gave us something to think about – is this usual, or a result tourism, or aid?
Name that tune.
For me, The Road to Find Out (Cat Stevens) was my personal college anthem:
So on and on I go,
the seconds tick the time out
There’s so much left to know,
and I’m on the road to find out.
I traveled many roads not taken by many of my friends and peers, impatient to experience and learn. Some argue that I am still on that road to find out, and I can’t disagree. And, I can’t say that I’ve learned to temper my impatience very well, either.
As we turn off the pavement at Kalomo, it’s hard to tell if we are actually on the road that will connect us to one of the largest national parks on the continent. It looks like we might be on someone’s driveway. But, there are signs of commerce that tell us we are on the main drag: roadside stalls selling tomatoes, sodas, and “top off” minutes for cell phones, and plenty of pedestrians and loaded down bicycles.
Off the pavement and driving through the village scene, now it feels like the adventure part of our trip has begun. The gravel has been recently graded, so the going is relatively smooth, although dusty. We head for the park gate with the advice from Bradt’s guide rattling around our heads: “If you want to drive here, then think of it as an expedition…If you have problems, you must be able to solve them yourself, as you can expect little help…Do bring a GPS; you will need one. Remember that many of the tracks in Southern Kafue have started to grow over with lack of use, so rediscovering them will be part of the adventure.” We have plenty of food, equipment and tools…and a satellite phone.
Our hope is that this trip will help us learn more about “real” Africa – what does it mean to live here, to be African? We believe that we will influence people’s reactions to us – our obvious affluence starts with the vehicle we are driving, then our clothing, as well as our packs loaded with binoculars and cameras. With every passing kilometer, I grow more and more self-conscious about how much wealth we have carried with us. How can we expect anything but respect and deference from the people we may meet along the way? Or contempt? Or, will we just be a novelty, treated with curiosity, as we travel through these villages? We suspect the answer is, “All of the above,” but we will see as we move about the country.
So far, people have been friendly and smiling. We try to be respectful, slowing down to reduce dust and flying gravel as we pass pedestrians and bicyclists. And, as we get further off the paved road, the population of human road traffic does not decrease. Just as we think we are getting to the “middle of nowhere,” we see bicycle tracks in the road dust. Or a herd of goats. People here live remotely, simply. Does this make them poor? In need of aid? More things to contemplate as we bump along the road.
Sooo, we have this tank of a vehicle that has “long distance” fuel tanks. But we have absolutely no idea what “long distance” really means and we are about to turn off road and into the African bush. Even buying fuel in Kaloma (about 20 litres) doesn’t give us much of a clue because it has been level paved road without air conditioning. Rover has two tanks: 25 litre and 80 litre and the fuel gauge doesn’t start reading until one of the tanks is empty and we don’t know which tank drains first. So fuel is an anxiety; the best advice is to fill up often. [In retrospect: Fuel IS an anxiety. Our Rover drained the 25 litre tank first, before the 80 litre tank started to register on the fuel gauge. As Safari Drive said in their literature, we probably could have gone 800 kms on a full tank. But it would be reckless to try.]
Fueled by reports of paved roads, rather than leaving at “sparrow’s fart,” we had a regular hot breakfast at the sun-splashed community table at Chanters. While some guests choose to eat indoors with the BBC broadcast on the TV, we soak up all the sunny fresh air we can get – it’s been a long, foggy summer on the Monterey Bay.
We settle our bill, present two soccer balls and pumps for the lodge staff, and head out to the Great North Road, connecting Livingstone with Lusaka. We will divert long before reaching the capital, and won’t see pavement again for ten days.
The road is remarkably, amazingly, thankfully well-paved, with much of it so fresh that the lines have not been painted yet. We pass a number of work crews with hand tools – much of this road has been built with Zambian sweat. The only machinery we see are two pieces: one to spread the asphalt, and the other to smooth it out.
As we leave Livingstone, we notice more signs and trucks with Chinese names and Chinese characters. Each road crew seemed to have an Asian face. As we had read, the Chinese have a big presence in Africa, and Zambia is no exception. Hungry for raw materials, the Chinese are here for the continent’s mineral wealth. We note that the freshest part of this road connects Livingstone with a quarry with a Chinese name about 20 kilometers outside of town. Zambia’s greatest mineral wealth is copper, and if we traveled north to the Copperbelt district, we probably would see more Asian faces.
As we travel north, we realize that we are paralleling a gravel track. If we made this trip two years ago, that would have been our route, not this freshly paved highway. We save hours of rattling road, thanks to the Chinese.
The other observation is that the vast majority of Zambians travel by foot and bicycle. Even though we are following a two-lane highway, there are pedestrians: ladies walking with bundles balanced on their heads, wads of kids in school uniforms, single men just walking. And then there are the bicycles – many of them loaded with bundles of firewood, baskets of produce for market, and passengers: young women riding side-saddle on the back rack. Livestock on the road are a regular sight: mostly goats and cows. We pass several ox-drawn carts. Where are these people from and where are they going? From the road, we can’t always see the peaked thatched roofs, but there are plenty of unmarked dirt tracks turning off the highway – signs that there are many villages along the road.
A transit service does run along the road: blue minivans, often sporting a proverb or quote, are largely the other vehicles we see on the road. They are usually stuffed (literally) with people – the passenger to seat belt ratio is easily 2:1.
We pass through several villages that are located on the road, but we are watching for Kalomo: our fuel stop where we leave the pavement for the road to the Dumdumwenze gate into Kafue National Park. As we turn off, we are now 126 kilometers from Livingstone. Stopping at the ZOT station to top off our tanks, we won’t see another fuel stop for four days.
Elephant
Baboon
Hippo
Crocodile
Giraffe
Vervet monkey
After a calm and relaxing evening cruise on the Zambezi, and an actual night’s sleep in a horizontal position (as opposed to a coach seat on an airplane), we’ve got lots to do: pick up the land rover, change money, grocery shop, and we’d also like to see the falls. We have no idea how long everything will take to do, but we know that we have a full day’s drive tomorrow, so there’s no putting things off.
We had a great breakfast with the Aussie gentleman in the room next door, who is headed to Greater Kruger for some volunteer work. Our ride arrived with staff from Waterberry Lodge (where we pick up the rover) and Chris from Zambezi Company. He says he’s been asked to help us with our routes and maps as part of our briefing.
The land rover is practically new and quite spacious for just the two of us. Kevin, Waterberry’s manager, and Chris walk us through all the equipment, including jacks, tools and pumps, as well as the stove, the rooftop tent, and Engel refrigerator. Frankly, we’re more worried about driving on the left more than anything else. The good news is that we have probably the best maps that exist for Zambia. In the days to come, we largely relied on the GPS, and hand-drawn maps people would make for us to our next destination.
Back on the road to Livingstone, we discover that we need to purchase diesel too. We thought we were getting a full tank, but hey, we’re in Zambia now. Our first stop was the Bureau de Change. We tried to figure out how much we needed in kwacha – largely to buy diesel. It seems that everywhere else we will be able to use American dollars. As we pulled in, we had at least 3 or 4 men standing very close to the vehicle, and then to us, trying to get us to exchange money with them. They dogged us all the way to the door of the bureau. And, they dogged us all the way back to Rover. It was a little unnerving only because we were carrying thousands of dollars, and millions of kwacha. (The exchange rate is 4800 kwacha to the dollar.) [In retrospect: this was one of a very few moments we felt uncomfortable – these guys were on us and in our face, but it never happened again].
We then navigated our way out back to the main street and to the ShopRite across the street. Steve got a little flustered trying to negotiate the turn-in driveways from the left side of the road, but we got in and parked. Fortunately, I had made a shopping list before we left home so that we would not be wandering aimlessly for hours in this supermarket. Safari Drive had supplied us with more than I expected as our “starter pack,” so I pared down my quantities. We were in and out in about an hour – not bad, considering I didn’t know what to expect. Prices were reasonable, the market was spotless and similar to a modern US supermarket, and our only surprise was the military clad very young man who walked the aisles with a machine gun slung over his shoulder.
By now, Steve is hungry, so we have Zambian fast food at The Hungry Lion. Burgers, chicken, fries, sodas – the usual fare. But, they are known for their pies. We passed on the pies this time.
Money changed and groceries purchased, we found that we still had plenty of time to see the falls. We headed south on Mosi Oa Tunya (Smoke That Thunders) Road – we knew that if we got to the Zimbabwe border, we had somehow missed the turnoff to the Zam side of the falls. We found it easily. The parking lot was bordered by a series of stalls selling all kinds of crafts and knick-knacks. We only had a couple of hours, so we headed for the ticket gate. Inside, we paid our admissions, plus the fee for our foreign vehicle (Namibia registration). The gentleman there asked where we were from, and when we said USA, he asked, “How is Mr. Obama doing?” This was the first of many times we were asked throughout our trip. President Obama is quite popular with both the Zambians and the Europeans we met on our trip. No matter how remote we traveled, people asked about Mr. Obama.
The falls were spectacular, even for the dry season – it’s boggling to see the geologic forces at work that created this remarkable spot. There were few people there, and I think we managed to walk most of the network of footpaths on the thin block of rock that separates the falls from the next 180 degree turn in the river. The water was low enough that it is possible to walk across the rocks at the top of the falls, but we passed this risky (and prohibited) activity.
Our last stop before heading back to Chanters was to fill the land rover fuel tanks. But, we were delayed for a few minutes for an elephant crossing. Okay, we really are in Africa now! The Rover was handed over to us THIRSTY: the 105 litre tank needs 83 litres to top off: 610,000 kwacha. After fueling up, we headed back to Chanters to finish up our packing. We’re on the road tomorrow!
Our original itinerary had us staying at Waterberry Lodge. It seemed really lovely, and it’s right on the Zambezi, but at usual safari lodge prices, we figured we would be too jet-lagged to appreciate it. Chanters was closer into town, and was a quiet, clean bed for the first few nights. Nice garden, nice pool, basic restaurant, pleasant and friendly staff.
Steve’s 2-cents:
Chanters was fine. The room was basic, clean and quiet. Sheets and towels were a bit threadbare, but were clean. The staff was very friendly and helpful. Food was plentiful, but not great. Beer was cold.
Our choice of Chanters was consistent with our traveling style. Because we marathon the travel leg (some people lay-over a day to break it up) we arrive exhausted. We need a bed in a quiet location.
Wilderness Safaris on our 2005 trip to Botswana and Safari Drive on this trip suggested much more expensive accommodations for the first in-country nights. On both trips we felt safari lodge frills would be wasted on us these first days and we opted to save some money. To their credit, both WS and Safari Drive were OK with our decision-making. But in both cases we found our alternative accommodations and made the arrangements ourselves.
Can't Stay Home 