Plan B (version 2)

As you probably worked out already, we were obliged to go for Plan B, and the relaxing weekend at Chaminuka was part of that option to fill in some time before the next bit. Malawi and the boat simply wasn’t possible in the time available and will have to be on the itinerary for next time. Chaminuka itself was great - relaxing, some good food, cheese tasting, game drives, a bush walk etc, setting us up for what was to come. Plan B kicked off with a return to Lusaka and another bus northwards to a one-ass town called Kapiri Mposhi, whose only claim to any iota of fame is as the Zambian terminus of the Tazara railway. Abraham came with us and we got rooms at the Peniel Executive Lodge - Paul was unimpressed and felt it had to be only for miserably failing executives as no one else would choose such a dire place, but he also admits to having had the best sleep of the trip so far. It was clean, but it was also seriously dire!

  

I’d made a reservation for a 1st class compartment for the Tuesday 14:00h departure of the train to the border, but then found out it was scheduled to leave at midday. We went along, got the tickets ($52 for two people in a four-berth compartment with a journey of 882 kms thrown in), but failed to get much other info about anything at all: “it should leave at 12”, “it should take about 24 hours”, “we think there is food on board”, etc, and were relieved to see some supplies and cases of beer ready to be loaded. We stocked up on biscuits and water, and a tetra-pack of cheap wine just in case, waved Abraham off home, and waited … and waited … and waited. We finally boarded, amongst the hundreds of families and their voluminous packages and baskets, about 13:00h, and waited. There were 20 coaches, we were in no 19, way beyond the extent of the platform but also from the noise of the engines. They finally hitched the three locomotives to the front at about 14:15h, and ten minutes later we chugged out on the Mukuba Express along the single track towards Tanzania.

Zambia does appear to have trouble with some of the definitions it uses, ‘executive’ being one! Another is ‘Express’ - at times we were belting along at 70 kph, but every 20 kms or so the train stopped at some rural halt in the boonies and sat for ages having disgorged only a handful of passengers. All well and good, running through the night and into the next day, but with the GPS tracker on the phone worryingly not showing the anticipated rate of progress to the border station. Our ‘about 24 h’ came and went, and then we stopped at another God-forsaken place where a crowd had formed on the track. Apparently a train the day before had killed someone (further up the track) and the community wanted the body brought back to the village … the company obliged but it took close to four hours to resolve. And we were off again, now well into the second night aboard and with 200 kms still to run - alas, by this time without cheap wine or any beer - so settled in for another night aboard. 

Then they discovered a fault in one of the locos so unhitched that and took it off to a depot to repair; at some point it must have come back and we set off again, but they unhitched others. I woke at 02:00h to find the train moving at about 1 km/h, and woke again at 05:00h and it was the same speed; though it had apparently had a faster spurt in between. By this stage there was only one loco pulling 800 mt and approaching hills and inclines … there was not enough traction to get up the hills, and after a final stop at an insignificant village halt, the next climb proved too much. They let it roll back down and up the other side of the valley, eventually brought another couple of locos from behind to give it a push, and as the sun came up, for the final 65 kms we were back up to speed. Exactly 43 hours after we left Kapiri we reached the border station at Nakonde; our 882 kms express journey had been covered at an average speed of 20 km/h.

But this isn’t a complaint, this is why we are doing this trip. No real deadlines or schedules except the final flights home, and very much taking it as it comes. We were the only foreigners on the train and it was nice to talk with the few fellow passengers who spoke enough English and who kept us updated on developments, we had a nice social hour in the dining car (another Zambian misnomer), could watch the countryside pass (albeit not very exciting), and being in the position of being totally powerless about anything were totally relaxed by events. 

Border formalities were surprisingly straightforward, and we were in Tanzania. This is where Plan B (v2) kicks off. No one could tell us if or when the train in Tanzania, meant to be a through train to Dar es Salaam, was due to leave, but what they could tell us was that we’d have to get a bus to Mbeya, 100 kms away, to find out. This wasn’t the luxury bus variety we’d enjoyed so much before; this was a chickens-and-all bush bus packed to the gunwales, stopping everywhere to further increase the overloading, which should (may?) eventually get us to the destination. The train - even if it did go - would be another 24 hours (read +/- 43); and the alternative was a jungle bus for 24 hrs minimum, probably nonstop and undoubtedly dangerous.

Without any significant debate, unsurprisingly, we amended the plan … maybe the days without proper facilities (eg: a shower) was a factor; but we decided to spend some of the pension and get an air ticket to Dar es Salaam; and a taxi rather than the bus to the airport town of Songwe, near Mbeya (38C3+XRH, Utengule, Tanzania on Google Maps). We’d met Charles, a Mr Fixit (aka tout) at the border who had helped point us in the right direction and changed some cash for us at rates slightly better than those on offer at the bank. I kept trying to work out how he was scamming us, but in fact I don’t think he was. Anyway, he got us into a car with strict instructions to not pay a cent more than the agreed price, and waved us off.

The vehicle was a beaten out little Toyota of an ancient variety (model unknown) though considerably less decrepit and more structurally complete than those operating as taxis in Lusaka. I was confident to see that its next service was recommended at 303,860 kms. Charles had told us it’d take an hour (for 100 kms!!) and despite the best efforts of the driver (whose name  we didn’t catch) it took quite a bit longer. He was OK on the descents but the car struggled with the uphills (a bit like the train), all the while dodging 40 mt trucks and buses, rickshaws and motorcycles coming from all sides. He was fixated on the next overtake and not getting stopped by the police; he only smiled when I broke out a few words in Swahili that I’d obviously not totally forgotten. Trucks in Africa often have slogans painted on the back (‘God is with you’, ‘Allah loves you’, ‘Have Faith in Jesus’ and more along similar lines) and the driver clearly considered these gave some sort of divine protection. Paul was content he was in the back.

We made it to this suggested hotel not far short of the airport, mainly to use their wifi (after four days without) and to while away the afternoon before the evening flight. When I tried to book there were no seats available, so we have checked in here - a missionary centre, so God is once again with us - but it’s the nicest accommodation we’ve had for many days and there are working showers, with a fantastic view northwards to the mountains in the sun. Flights now booked for lunchtime tomorrow with a connection to Zanzibar later, and sod the expense.