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.

Moving on

We caught a ‘flying matatu’ (Kenya Airways) from Cape Town to Livingstone last Tuesday afternoon to begin the northward journey. Fairly uneventful once we had squeezed ourselves into the small seats of a full plane, amongst people who had no idea what “one piece of hand luggage” actually means; and surprisingly, no live chickens on board and as far as I could tell, and  nothing strapped to the roof of the matatu either. 

Only a handful of passengers got off in Livingstone, so we were though the airport in minutes - how travel used to be. Arrival at the riverfront hotel was delayed as a large herd of elephants, probably around 100, was all across the road - and they have priority over vehicles. While nice for us to see them, they are a major problem for the local people - it’s the dry season so vegetation is scarce, and the animals go for whatever they can track down, and do massive damage to compounds and gardens in the process. The neighbouring hotel had its wire and electric fence trampled one night we were there and the animals got in and had fun in the manicured gardens. Later there were some swimming across the Zambezi river to Zimbabwe to take their chances there, but we also saw some swimming back later and the herd was still around two days later. 

I’d booked ‘adventure tents’ in the hotel grounds but with the elephants, and signs warning of hippos and crocodiles, I did begin to wonder if that had been a wise decision. It was: the tents were good (beds, power, fans etc), and beyond the mosquitoes the only wildlife nearby was an aging hippy character who played his ‘meditation music’ somewhat louder than he needed to, while staring into space and ignoring everyone else. 

Livingstone, the former capital of Zambia and its main tourist town, because of the Victoria Falls, is a rather faded and dusty place, but busy enough. We caught up with Abraham, who I worked with in July, and hit the museum which gave some good insight into modern day Zambia, but also  the connections with Dr David Livingstone and his years of African explorations. Because of very low water levels in the Zambezi, the Falls themselves were dry on the Zambian side, but still flowing on the Zimbabwe side, so we decided to make a day trip across the border, helpfully coinciding with a national holiday for Zambia’s 60th anniversary of independence.

So a taxi to the border, a walk across the iconic arched steel bridge, and on into Victoria Falls town itself revealed a very different scene. It is a small town - basically two principal streets - but totally geared to tourism with curio shops, travel agencies, banks etc in abundance, as well as a craft brew place which helped us while away the time. It was interesting to see how VF had capitalised sensibly on its major attraction, but Livingstone as a town has not - beyond a handful of upmarket hotels, and a range of activities to keep tourists occupied and spending money.

The Falls themselves, the principal draw for both places, were a mere trickle when compared with them at full force - which they were the last time I was here. There is this thunderous roar you can hear from a mile away, and spray which rises into the sky like a cloud - none of that at the moment. Paul said they were impressive enough even so, but I didn’t go into the national park to see them this time.

We also discussed the next steps of this journey … Plan A or Plan B.  Plan A involved a long  series of bus journeys from Livingstone to Lusaka (7 hrs), then on to Lilongwe (Malawi) (something like 12 hrs), another north to Mzuzu (5 hrs), and a fourth (2 hrs) to a place called Nkhata Bay, on the shores of Lake Malawi, where we would pick up a ride on the MV Ilala (https://www.malawitourism.com/transport/ilala-malawi-shipping-company/) to its northernmost port of call. The problem was the boat only sails north on a Sunday morning, and we didn’t really have the time to be sure of getting there on public transport (the idea of back-to-back buses journeys hours was already a bit off putting). We’d then have to get into Tanzania, and find a way to Dar es Salaam, etc etc. All a nice idea, but …

Plan B took a different route: getting onto the Tazara train (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TAZARA_Railway) from a small town 4 hrs north of Lusaka to travel the 1,860 kms through Zambia, across the border and then northeast through the Tanzanian highlands to Dar es Salaam. The problem here was that the train only leaves on a Tuesday and (we found out) currently only goes as far as the border … after which it all gets a bit uncertain.  Decisions, decisions.

 

But we moved onwards: a bus to Lusaka, advertised for 7 hrs but took more than eight, through the parched Zambian countryside. We decided to take a break and booked into a private game reserve called Chaminuka Lodge (https://www.chaminuka.com/), just outside Lusaka, which I visited 20 years ago. It’s a lovely, tranquil spot, with food and activities thrown in (for a price) but has been good before the uncertainty begins.

All through the time in Zambia, now and during my last trip in July, the country has been affected by extended power outages called ‘load shedding. The mains power goes off for hours on end, sometimes scheduled and sometimes not, so businesses and folks with the resources have to rely on generators; those without have nothing. This is put down to not enough water in the dams for the power stations, but it is most likely the result of years of poor planning, poor management, corruption and no investment in alternatives to hydro power. Phones can’t be charged, machines don’t work, the internet and wifi systems are offline: everyone struggles to cope, often in temperatures in the high 30s (C). We were in a large supermarket in Livingstone and had to do the shopping by phone light; arrived into the InterCity Bus Terminus in Lusaka in a blackout; in a shopping mall the same evening when all the lights went out; and here at Chaminuka it was out for about 36 hrs before going on earlier this morning. It is crippling businesses of all sizes and is hard to understand how the government can allow this to continue, while apparently still exporting fuel to South Africa. At what point will enough be enough for the people of this country?

Right now it is raining, a very welcome respite for the people (and animals) in this dry, hot and powerless country. But in the meantime, for us: Plan A or Plan B?  Or Plan C? Watch this space.