My traversed route…
Kampala – Nairobi – Mombasa – Dar es Salam – Iringa – Tungamalenga (Ruaha National Park) - Iringa – Mikumi – Udzungwa National Park – Mangula - Mikumi – Mbeya – Kyela – Karonga - Mzuzu – Nkhata bay – Kande Beach – Nkhata Bay – Chizimulu Island – Likoma Island – Nkhata bay – Nhkotakota – Salima – Lilongwe – Chipata – Lusaka – Livingstone - Kasane (Chobe National Park) – Maun – Nata - Gweta – Maun - Francistown - Palapye - Martin’s Drift - Johannesburg – Nelspruit - Maputo – Tofo….
Dear SeverelyNeglectedBlog,
This is going to be long, but hopefully satisfies until my return to Canada…
I left Mombasa, a coastal city in Kenya on the 26th of March. There, I spent 6 days with good friends from Kampala. We frolicked in the translucent Indian Ocean, admired the camels on the white sand beaches and cherished our time together before we parted our own ways. I was now bound for Tanzania where I would meet Sondra (Sonny), a dear friend since grade 3. However, finding her wasn’t as easy as planned…Enduring some long, uncomfortable bus rides of sleepless nights and old perverted men (details not appropriate), this was sure to be a challenging adventure. En route the buses make stops and up run people selling “window food” (food from baskets they hold up to the windows - coal charred maize cobs, pili pili (chilli) chips, oranges, bananas, samosas, andazis, sweets aka candies) and sometimes some of the most miscellaneous items you could imagine. I spent many lonely hours in thought because the roads were too rough to sleep or read and my Ipod was dead but it left time to contemplate my trip and observe the African ways. Being a solo female traveler definitely attracts the fiercely aggressive men, and there are a lot of them here in Africa. As I debarked the bus in Dar Es Salam I was surrounded by screaming taxi and bus company men, all yelling at each other trying to get my business. One was particularly pushy, grabbing my bags and screaming in my face. I refused his attention as he seemed possibly drunk and utterly rude. He caused a scene amongst the group as his extravagant behaviour was repulsive and becoming violent. The scenario was escalating so I was keen to get in a tuck tuck and escape the commotion. As we started leaving he jumped in and grabbed my bag containing all my valuables. I was quick to snatch it back but had to put up a fight, kicking him and pulling back as the vehicle continued moving. Finally he gave up and I was relieved to be on my way. Except once at my hostel, I realized he must have been a professional pick pocketer as he had gotten my cell phone. Perfect, all my information to find Sonny including her phone number was in my phone… Dar is a big city that not many speak fondly of and 10 minutes after being there and being robbed, I don’t have much good to say either. I was anxious to leave the busy city after purchasing a new phone. The night was painfully hot as my fan didn’t work so I slept a few hours before waking to catch a 6am bus to Iringa, Tanzania.
I was overtired and hyper with anxiety so I enjoyed the surroundings of landscape and people. My first wild African animal siting came between Dar Es Salam and Iringa. And it happened consecutively with a pack of giraffes, elephants then zebras. My head poked up like a mere cat and I was soon scanning the African landscape, smile beaming and eager to see more. The landscape in Tanzania was stunning – scattered grass huts, lush green bushes, tall rolling mountains covered entirely with acacia trees, farmer’s fields producing pineapples, tea, potatoes and I’m sure much more. I do admit that I slept a lot of the ride from Dar to Iringa on account of too many back to back nights of minimal sleep and long days. To carry on with some more unfortunate turn of events, being sleep deprived I slept through my stop and ended up driving 5 hours past it. However, I claim this wasn’t entirely my fault. A couple hours after driving, our bus got a few flat tires so we pulled over for maintenance. I got talking to Nyoni, a random inquisitive Tanzanian man who worked in Kyela - the border to Malawi. He spoke some English and was interested in my story. Except after talking, he misunderstood that I was going to Iringa and instead thought I was going to the Malawi border like him (most buses make numerous stops in towns or villages along their route, hence them always being cram packed). He told me it was an 11 hour drive and I was shocked because I had heard it would be 6-8 hours. You can never be sure; the roads are not well paved nor are the buses maintained. Well apparently the bus drivers saw us talking and assumed we were together, so when we had stopped in Iringa, I was sleeping, they called out Iringa in Swahili which I probably wouldn’t have recognized anyways, and didn’t wake me as they assumed I was going to the border. So once I hit 12 hours I felt something must be wrong and could only imagine that we took an insanely long way to Iringa. When I asked where we were, we were 2 hours from the Malawi border so Nyoni translated that my best decision was to stay on board until then. They suggested I stay the night at the border crossing and catch the same bus at 5am as it was heading back on the same route. Well all seemed fine, although I was irritated that no one informed me of the Iringa stop and I had to ride 10 hours longer on an uncomfortable bus. So once at the border of Malawi, the bus boy checked us both into a double bed room in a shady guesthouse. I laughed and declined. Our only other option was to share a room with 2 beds. After having to persistently tell him to sleep in his own bed I fell asleep for 2 hours before having to wake again. The bus company was kind enough to allow me to ride for free back to Iringa. I still hadn’t heard from Sonny and wasn’t sure how we would find each other, but knew she was expecting me. Once in Iringa I took another crammed bus ride 2 hours into the wilderness, through a few villages until I came to one called Tungamalenga. This was where I was joyfully greeted by my patient friend – she had been revisiting the bus stop for the past 2 days worried and wondering where I was. Finally on the 5th bus I showed up! Sonny was working as a volunteer in the Ruaha National Park so I spent the next 5 days living in a camp with her and her 3 other coworkers. We slept in tents, cooked over coals and spent the hours of the day bird watching, reading, garden visits, walking through the village, picture taking…One day I was so grateful to actually experience my first Safari trip with her and her coworkers through the Ruaha National Park for free. We drove all day through the park seeing an incalculable number of elephants, hippos, impalas, giraffes, hyenas, and many species of birds. Africa is known for having the greatest variety of bird species – more than anywhere in the world. But after a day of safari, I still anxiously awaited my first sight of cats.
We bid Iringa goodbye and were off on our own adventures heading south. From Iringa, we bussed to Udzungwa National Park determined to do some hikes. These lush mountains stand tall a few hours outside of Mikumi near Mangula village. Not like “a few hours” distinguishes it’s distance from Mikumi. Nor do miles define the length of time it should take. Basically we were packed into a bus and drove some rough, uneven dirt roads for a few hours. In Tanzania most of the transport is done in big old run down buses and the Africans believe there is always room for more. Just when you think the bus is going to tip if it hits another crater hole in the ground, or your feet come off the ground from being so pushed together that you can’t find floor space, the bus stops and picks up another 20-30 people. Usually babies are passed around and held in the air. The ladies don’t mind as they are keen to offer their children and hopeful that you accept. Usually they will offer you marriage to their brothers or cousins as well. Over reproduction has its varying issues and this is confirmed when children run after you begging for balloons. These ‘balloons’ are known as condoms in Canada.
Anyways, the people on the bus pile out so the two Mzungu girls at the back can get off. Realizing we have been dropped at the wrong lodge because of language barrier, we walk a few miles in the intense heat to Honda Honda lodge. We organized 2 days of trekking in the mountains at the park headquarters and were gifted with a real character of a guide. His name was Yusto, a Tanzanian who had worked as a guide in Kilimanjaro and found interest in us. The first day we started the trek by following Mangabe monkeys. This required us to trench through the thick wet jungle, no path outlaid, and keep up with the monkeys. After this demanding act, we somehow found the path called Njakamone - it was more walk able and more our style. We had brought buns, veggies and popcorns and had lunch at the bottom of the powerful Njakamone waterfall. After about 10kms of hiking the forest and mountains, Yusto took us through Mangula village where he lived and after another couple hours of walking, we were burnt and exhausted. Rested up for another big day of trekking with a warm shower and comfy bed…Second day we hiked Sanje - destination being Sanje falls, the biggest of the 3 waterfalls. Starting at the bottom of the falls, we swam, had lunch then proceeded to scale the mountain to 720 feet where we reached the top of the waterfall - the panorama was breathtaking and oh so gratifying. I slipped on a wet rock while taking a picture of Sonny and falling in would have been the end.
That night, we invited Yusto for dinner and drinks. After 2 days with us he cared about our safety and walked us to the train station where we would catch the midnight train to Mbeya. We had arranged to get our train tickets purchased earlier in the day but our hook up got us class 3 tickets instead of class 1. Apparently tourists aren’t even allowed in class 3 because it’s too dangerous and there are many cases of robberies and crazy people. After negotiation, we had one of the train workers lead us to the bar on the train where we would wait for our class 1 dorm room to vacate. Completely beat from 2 days of trekking, and it being after midnight, we were anxious for our room to clear. In the meantime, we were approached by a terribly rude African, comparable to the criminal in the Dar Es Salam bus station. He walked up to us in flip flops and shorts and demanded to see our tickets claiming he was the conductor. Grabbing our tickets out of our hands he began screaming in our faces that we must leave. We tried to explain that we were waiting for our room but without listening, he continued screaming nonsense and talking in circles. I couldn’t help but yell back, standing my ground and simply telling him to leave us alone because he clearly wasn’t a worker on the train. After making a scene and having many witnesses, he stormed off and we were left rattled and in the spot light. For the next hour, there were people talking and pointing at us, some men pushing and shoving each other and we sat in innocence and prayed for safety. There was no reason for any of this and yet was one of the most intensely frightening moments. Once we finally got our dorm room, I couldn’t sleep as I feared someone coming in and kicking us off. Luckily we just had to pay the difference and were left in peace.
Anyways, the people on the bus pile out so the two Mzungu girls at the back can get off. Realizing we have been dropped at the wrong lodge because of language barrier, we walk a few miles in the intense heat to Honda Honda lodge. We organized 2 days of trekking in the mountains at the park headquarters and were gifted with a real character of a guide. His name was Yusto, a Tanzanian who had worked as a guide in Kilimanjaro and found interest in us. The first day we started the trek by following Mangabe monkeys. This required us to trench through the thick wet jungle, no path outlaid, and keep up with the monkeys. After this demanding act, we somehow found the path called Njakamone - it was more walk able and more our style. We had brought buns, veggies and popcorns and had lunch at the bottom of the powerful Njakamone waterfall. After about 10kms of hiking the forest and mountains, Yusto took us through Mangula village where he lived and after another couple hours of walking, we were burnt and exhausted. Rested up for another big day of trekking with a warm shower and comfy bed…Second day we hiked Sanje - destination being Sanje falls, the biggest of the 3 waterfalls. Starting at the bottom of the falls, we swam, had lunch then proceeded to scale the mountain to 720 feet where we reached the top of the waterfall - the panorama was breathtaking and oh so gratifying. I slipped on a wet rock while taking a picture of Sonny and falling in would have been the end.
That night, we invited Yusto for dinner and drinks. After 2 days with us he cared about our safety and walked us to the train station where we would catch the midnight train to Mbeya. We had arranged to get our train tickets purchased earlier in the day but our hook up got us class 3 tickets instead of class 1. Apparently tourists aren’t even allowed in class 3 because it’s too dangerous and there are many cases of robberies and crazy people. After negotiation, we had one of the train workers lead us to the bar on the train where we would wait for our class 1 dorm room to vacate. Completely beat from 2 days of trekking, and it being after midnight, we were anxious for our room to clear. In the meantime, we were approached by a terribly rude African, comparable to the criminal in the Dar Es Salam bus station. He walked up to us in flip flops and shorts and demanded to see our tickets claiming he was the conductor. Grabbing our tickets out of our hands he began screaming in our faces that we must leave. We tried to explain that we were waiting for our room but without listening, he continued screaming nonsense and talking in circles. I couldn’t help but yell back, standing my ground and simply telling him to leave us alone because he clearly wasn’t a worker on the train. After making a scene and having many witnesses, he stormed off and we were left rattled and in the spot light. For the next hour, there were people talking and pointing at us, some men pushing and shoving each other and we sat in innocence and prayed for safety. There was no reason for any of this and yet was one of the most intensely frightening moments. Once we finally got our dorm room, I couldn’t sleep as I feared someone coming in and kicking us off. Luckily we just had to pay the difference and were left in peace.
As exciting as it is to cross borders into another country, they always scare me because of stories I’ve heard – corrupt authorities. This will be further explained later…
In Kyela, the Malawi border, we had just crossed when my phone rang. I couldn’t believe it - it was the Nyoni guy from Tanzania who had helped me with translation and befriended me on my prolonged bus ride. I laughed as I recalled him telling me to call him when I was crossing into Malawi and thought it was such a funny coincidence. I looked around and saw him waving from the Tanzania side. We were in no man’s land so it was no problem to go back and say hello. He ended up buying us lunch and a few beers and 2 hours later we agreed we were now ready for Malawi. So upon arriving at the Malawi border, we admit we were a little bit buzzed. As we properly answered questions from the customs officer he asked how many days we wanted in Malawi. We both said the max (30days). He was being creepy and flirtatious and quite inappropriate for a border officer. Then he asked Sonny if she had been popping chunks because her eyes were sparkling…what are chunks anyways??? Confused and slightly disturbed, we got our stamps and were off to Malawi.
MALAWI
At the time, there was a fuel crisis in Malawi which made transport quite expensive so we often hitched rides in the back of pick up trucks, and most of the time had to pay anyways. We stayed in Mzuzu in a backpackers called Mzoozoozoo where we were loved by the manage Ray, and the resident drunk, Phil. After a few days they referred us to Kande beach. We planned to stay a few nights in Kande but 7 days later we had to kick ourselves out. We fit right in with the staff and the owner of the restaurant wanted to sell it to me. If only I had 50,000$ to throw around Kande beach would be a place I could stay a while. Kande beach was also a hot spot for overland tour trucks so we got a bit familiar with how the tours work. Most of the staff at Kande had been retired overland drivers and spoke highly of the occupation. This triggered a contemplative job opportunity…
The week at Kande was eventful but we had high hopes for the islands. After making our way to Nhkata Bay, it was there that we caught the Illala ferry, stopping first at Chizimulu Island. We were shuttled from the ferry by a small wooden boat and taken to the doorstep of our resort called Wakawenda Beach Retreat. We were able to walk around Chizimulu Island in about 2 hours and come across villagers wanting to take pictures with us, tall grasses we became lost in and cassava fields we trenched through. Our accommodations were sketchy and we had to be brave every time we entered our straw hut on the beach. We seemed to have 2 resident bats, frogs, mice, cockroaches, and wisp spiders. These spiders are huge, have long praying mantis-like claws, and are actually terrifying when you go to put your head down on your pillow and there is one already laying there. We tucked our bug net tighter than ever but still felt like our bed was crawling.
From Chizimulu Island we had Nick, the owner, take us to Likoma Island with a crazy sailboat contraption. It didn’t feel safe as these thin logs held together by old nails formed the frame of the sail and our skipper was drunk. But reluctantly we arrived a few hours later at a picturesque beach resort called Mango Drift. The Illala Ferry runs only once a week so we had about 5 days here before catching it back to Nhkata Bay. We went on hikes, played daily volleyball until sunset and it became the site of our first high altitude fresh water dive. The dive wasn’t as impressive as ocean dives but it was neat to dive in fresh water at 18metres, see some crazy rock formations and swim with many species of Cichlids.
When we left Likoma Island we took the Illala Ferry and arrived in Nhkata around 4am. We slept on benches in a backpacker’s guesthouse until they opened and booked us beds in the 24 person dorm room. The place was run down and the beds were the worst so we decided to take advantage of some free internet and continue on. Sonny had done hours of laundry and she hung it to dry overnight. Laundry is a task we dread because you have to time it perfectly with travel and the drying process and it takes forever and your hands are in pain when you’re done. However, in the morning we woke and all her clothes were gone. We questioned everyone in the guesthouse and even the manager was shocked because there were night guards and being a gated property, it seemed to be a rare occurrence. Devastated that all her clean clothes had been stolen, including a pair of my pants, we had to make a claim at the police station. This was quite the process as they even accused me of stealing them (???!!!). It cost her 50$, and we were now sharing my few items of clothing. Not only sharing clothes, but now a bank account - This is around the time when I found out that my bank card was no longer working and a new one would have to be sent from Canada. Anyways, walking back to our backpackers from the police station, we decided to stop for a coffee. The owner greeted us and when we asked the price of a cup, she seemed confused and couldn’t even find coffee on the menu. She expressed that it was a poorly written menu and was ashamed of it. Her name was Beurnah and she was an ambitious restaurant owner who wasn’t quite in touch with reality, but had big dreams. I offered to help her with her restaurant after expressing that I had some experience with menu consulting and it certainly did need some changes. She appreciated my eagerness to help so I introduced a few new items to her menu. After preparing them for her and allowing her to sample them, I spent the rest of the day retyping the menu. When we later returned with the new and improved menu, she had prepared us dinner of nsima, mcheecha (greens) and beef stew. I must admit that it was one of the best meals and it felt rewarding and quite a relief to be helping a restaurant with actual potential.
We did some time managing and realized we had spent longer in Malawi than planned, so decided to head to the capital, Lilongwe, find a tent knowing that accommodations would be expensive in Botswana, then move on towards Zambia. In Lilongwe we stayed at a place called St. Peter’s which was basically a guesthouse/theology school/catholic church and we were approached by Eva, a theology student working there and as a director at a small village school. He asked us if we would speak to his students about the importance of school and encourage them to continue with their education. Long story short, we found the school after 3 hours of walking and much confusion in the school name, and were anxiously welcomed by about 100 students (middle school-high school). We explained how schooling got us the opportunity to travel and mentioned many positive outcomes from getting an education. We donated a book we had both just read called The Alchemist, by Paulo Cohelo which speaks of following your heart to find your destiny. When question time came, one girl asked, “What is the secret to becoming a nurse?” while another guy asked how old we were and if we were single. Although many villagers have a very narrow perspective of life, I do believe we inspired some to open their minds and make bigger goals and we left feeling like we had made a well-accepted contribution.
Leaving Malawi was where I was startled by my first border crossing nightmare. We went to get our exit stamps and the border office says “there is a problem for kali.” We learnt a very important lesson here…Even as illegible as the signing is on your visa stamps, make sure you confirm the scribbles! Looking at my entry stamp for Malawi, the border officer had given Sonny 30 days as we had requested, but for whatever reason, had only given me 14. And we had stayed 25 days. They said I must return to Lilongwe (3 hours+fares) to find an immigration bureau where I had to pay for a visa extension, and in the hopes that it would be accepted, I could then come back and try again. This was unfathomable! I was angry, declaring that we were together for the border and had both requested 30 days so should have been given 30 days, but they were unresponsive. I refused to go back to Lilongwe so I played the bribery card and their behavior changed. I said they could charge me a penalty fee and after some negotiation, we agreed on 9000K(30$). The office took the money, pocketed it and we went our own ways.
ZAMBIA
Our luck was at best in this fascinating country. Our first stop was in Chipata, the border city. After some money exchanging with local dealers who gave a better rate than the bureaus, we headed for some local food of Nshima (Cassava flour and water) and greens. Here we met a South Africa guy who we named master T. He was in Chipata for work and was the first intellectual African we had met so we were stimulated by interesting conversation and many hours later we had formed a promising friendship and agreed to visit him in Durban in later travels. He spoiled us with food and drinks and invited us to his hotel for a new scene. Once there, he invited us to save our money and spend the night since he had 2 rooms. We were anxious to sleep in our tent for the first time but the king size bed, tv, hot shower, air con and free coffee won us over. Appreciating his kind offer of hospitality, we exchanged info and were off to our next destination – Lusaka, the capital of Zambia. After our first night in our tent, the camping idea had lost its hype – the size of this small “2 man” tent wasn’t quite sufficient for our 2 large back packs, 2 day backs, and a food bag. This left nothing but a narrow space for us both to sleep. We opted out on buying mattresses because this meant extra weight, responsibility and money but the sacrifice of comfort resulted in some sore bones and fewer hours of sleep. Our first day in Lusaka we went on a hunt for some clothes - my limited wardrobe wasn’t cutting it for us both. Along the way we stumbled across a small, hidden Indian restaurant called Ghandi’s. We couldn’t resist the emanating smells and decided this was lunch. Ghandi’s is where I had one of my all time favourite meals and met an astonishing individual named Singh. First off, the meal was mind blowing! I gained an incredible admiration and respect for Indian cuisine as the complex layering and combination of flavours in the two dishes we shared was unlike anything my palate had experience. It was run by an Indian couple – Momma cooked and the husband worked the till. Upon leaving I shook their hands and praised them for their genius work. Instantly I decided I must visit India and learn this intricate cuisine. As we sat and admired this gem of a restaurant, we struck up conversation with a man who shared a table with us. After expressing that we were on a hunt for clothes, he mentioned a market nearby and offered to take us. As he properly assumed that we were occasionally approached by strange men offering “favours”, he gave us his business card and shared some of his life story. Turns out he is the Prince of a royal family from the town of Rajestan, India. He had a very comforting and honest approach so we agreed to accept his ride to the market. However, once in his truck, he decided to take us to his home to prove that he was not dangerous in any way. His home was situated on the same property as his engineering company and we met his lovely maid, Sarry. Sarry, Zambian, is 24 and has been working for Singh for 3 years. He pays her well because she is sending her brother to school and Singh is taking her to India so she can travel and meet his family. His house was beautifully decorated with Indian collections and he and Sarry made it feel very homey. They insisted that we stay the night because our great conversation was unable to end so quickly. We ended up staying 5 nights…Singh continued to amaze us with his generosity and he possesses an incredible spirit which thrives off of pleasing others. He recognized our appreciation and spoiled us to the utmost throughout our stay and gave us a real insight to Indian culture. Gratefully, he taught Sarry how to cook what he likes so we enjoyed more amazing Indian meals. I was thankful to cook with her and copy her recipes as I had been fighting the urge to cook for myself. Singh took us around town, visiting friends, showing us his favourite hang outs, treating us to mouth watering meals, and nights were mostly spent watching cheesy Indian love story movies. After an amazing 6 days, we decided we had to go but promised to keep in touch and I would feel stupid if I didn’t – he wants us to go visit and stay in his palace in Metral when he is there in November! He gave us some gifts and souvenirs to remember him, Sarry, and Lusaka and made sure we were front seat of the next coach bus headed to Livingstone.
Making our way to Livingstone was smooth, minus the Kirks Dick Dick that ran across the highway which we squashed – that was unpleasant. Livingstone is a popular traveller’s destination because of the famous Victoria Falls. The water plummets 108 feet giving off a massive up spray which completely soaks you as you gaze into them. Being rainy season, the water was in great abundance and the falls were powerful. But according to post cards, they are equally as beautiful and a completely different site during the dry season. There are two viewing points, one from the Zambia side and another from Zimbabwe if you’re willing to spend the 100$ visa. It was a truly magical and historic scene where the earth separates and this water pours into what they call the boiling point, where whirlpools form and the water continues down the Zambezi River. This being a stunning site and a possible once in a lifetime experience, we decided a bungee jump was in order. So on Mother’s Day, we had our first bungee jump of 108 feet taking place from the bridge connecting Zambia and Zimbabwe. For me, there was no better place to jump off a bridge and fall through a complete circular rainbow – a real unforgettable feeling.
We stayed 8 days in Livingstone for a few reasons…We made some worthy friendships with a group of crazy Danish guys who were on vacation from their jobs as carpenters, building houses and schools up north. They were pure entertainment so we soon accepted that they loved to wake us up every morning, yelling in our tent with a brutally loud “GOOD MORNING CANADA!!!”. Followed by “SHLABA!” (Silence in Dutch) after we cursed them for waking us. Livingstone was a quaint town to walk around and the people of Zambia are quite comforting with their friendliness. The ladies would sit on the curbs selling their produce every day, all day, so I spent a few hours partaking in the business. I kept a 25 year old company as she fantasized about marrying my brother. I didn’t have to describe him, she just assumed I had a brother and wanted him regardless. I bought her a cola and we had some laughs as I tried to sell her oranges, papayas, mcheecha and these silly milkshake drinks. I took the milkshakes in my hands, walked into the middle of the busy road swarming with people and put on a show. Sonny drummed on an empty container and I started dancing and singing that terrible milkshake song that came out by that one hit wonder years ago - “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and damn right, it’s better than yours, damn right its better than yours, you can taste it, but I’ll have to charge!” I think those are the lyrics…It didn’t matter, I got the attention of pretty much all the people in the area and the ladies cheered and clapped. People laughed and I looked like a ridiculous white girl but damn rights it brought in costumers! Men came to us wanting to get my number, but I kept it business like and sold them fruit instead. Felicity, “my boss”, was so happy with my sales that she gave me an avocado as my pay for the day – she knew they were my favourite. The next day we were leaving but I made a bag of gifts to leave with her - a few shirts, a pair of soccer shorts and some shampoo for her to share with her family of 12. I didn’t see her that day but I left it with her friend who was sure to deliver. I hope she isn’t still trying to sell those awful milkshakes without me…
Botswana, here we come! We loaded up on vegetables and fruit for our travels ahead because you never know when you’ll be stuck on the side of the road, or food may be hard to find. However, upon arriving at the Botswana border we were told that it was illegal to traffic produce, hooves, fur, and some other random materials. Huh? Law abiding rules? Some men sitting at a small wooden table on the road told us we could not pass. This took us to surprise as customs at past borders had gone unnoticed. Well, it made for quite the lunch as we refused to throw out our 3 day’s worth supply of food - 1 onion, 2 tomatoes, 2 green peppers, 1 avocado, 1 cucumber, 3 cloves of garlic, 2 oranges and 2 bananas. As we laid it out it became obvious what to do - Salsa and gaucamole with cucumber and green peppers to dip with. After this filling vegetable overload, we were full and ended up giving our bananas to two ladies watching us eat. Africans are always pleased to accept food and it’s a gesture I try to repeat as often as possible.
BOTSWANA
Alright, onto Botswana! My first words once setting foot in Botswana were, “Wow, this place has got their shit together!”. Immediately we noticed a drastic change in population, providing more free land for animals to roam, fewer people living in shanties, more white people working for safari companies and throughout, the country seemed to be cleaner and wealthier. Frequently when travelling in Botswana, you will come across check stops. At these check stops police officers will open your bags but they are looking only for shoes. You must then take your shoes and place them in this sodium bicarbonate solution which they claim prevents any transmissible foot disease. Now this becomes very irritating when traveling with a bus full because these check stops can be timely and seem to be every couple hundred kilometers, if not less, hindering any needed sleep. We stayed at a campsite on the outskirts of a small town called Kasane. Accommodations were not cheap (70 Pula/12$ for camping, or 600P/100$ for a room) so we were reluctant to have bought a tent in Malawi. Kasane is the host town for any entry to Chobe National Park. There, we decided to do a 6 hour truck safari with our new friend Dave, from San Louis Obispo (CA), who had been en route with us since Livingstone. The landscape was equally as beautiful but dryer compared to Ruaha NP so I was determined to see my first Lion as they prefer the tall grasses and less condensed trees. Again, we saw hippos, crocodiles, a huge array of bird species, impalas, elephants, giraffes, kudus, wart hogs, buffalo, baboons, monitor lizards, and my first lioness! She was sitting in the grasses looking beautiful until she spotted an impala…she then crossed in front of our truck and started stalking this nearby lone impala feeding on some grasses. We watched the approach as she slowly moved in. They are very stealth in their hunt and I felt bad that soon there were 3 other safari trucks encroaching on the scene. The impala moved out of site and the hunt became impossible to witness. I didn’t see a kill but as we kept driving I saw the remains of one… We noticed a swarm of vultures feasting on what appeared to be a very large animal. Manoeuvring the truck off road, we approached a large carcass of an elephant. My stomach sank and it was hard to look at. It was difficult to know whether the elephant had been poached or died naturally. Illegal hunting remains a problem in most national parks and especially in Chobe because it borders Namibian farmers, divided only by the Zambezi River. Farmers will kill and gratefully use every part of the animal ie: the blood (not only for sake of nourishment, but also traditional beliefs), fur, blankets, food, acclaimed medicinal uses, tusk and horn jewelry etc. They do this in order to survive without considering it’s global effects. When poaching, trophies and valuables such as tusks are sold on the black market and the meat is left to rot. This is detrimental because no money is coming back into the national economy. And because there is no regulation on the selected kill, it becomes harmful towards a species population. This, in turn is potential harmful to the National Parks and Game Reserves as they rely on the tourist industry. Hunting on the other hand, can in fact serve as a benefit. When hunting areas are properly specified (usually collaborated with villages), the money from hunting licenses goes towards surrounding villages for facilities (schools, hospitals etc), the hunter takes his trophy and whatever meat is left goes to villagers. In some parks, hunters are paying up to 12,000$ to kill an elephant and take nothing but it’s tusks, head and sometimes the feet to use as table legs. Policies, organizations and education enforcements continue to bloom in Africa in order to protect the Parks from disappearing.
The great adventures continued onto a place which we were most anticipating – The Okavango Delta. This massive body of water covers a huge range of land in Botswana providing homes to plenty of wildlife. We bussed to Maun where we camped at The Old Bridge Backpackers. It was a busy backpacker’s lodge situated on one of the Delta’s channels with good vibes and great staff. We knew we would be here a while…First, we booked a 3 day Mokoro trip. Mokoros are long skinny wooden boats that the people use to navigate through the thick reeds as they stand at the back and push with long poles. Sonny and I shared one while Dave took another Mokoro with our bags and his poler, a bad ass momma who spoke no english. We left early morning on this relaxing ride as Lee, our poler, pushed us through the thin channels of reeds, surrounded by lilly pads. Two hours later we arrived at an island where we would camp 2 nights. Each day we went on morning and night hikes around the island looking for animals. We came across huge herds of zebras, traces of lions, enormous termite hills, baboons and elephants. At night, we would cook over the fire and listen to the animals. One night we heard elephants crossing the waters and unaware of what it was Momma and Lee took off to find out. We 3 remained around the fire, afraid and panicked because we had just been abandoned by our only protection. They came back to motion us over to listen. We were surrounded by elephants only about 15 feet away and the wilderness became very real. Each night I woke to animals scavenging through our cookware and roaming our site. Our little tent lost it’s sense of safety and I was somewhat relieved when morning arrived. During the day, we went swimming in the crocodile waters and attempted to catch some fish with nothing but a piece of fishing line and a small hook. Lee didn’t speak much but told us a few riddles as we awaited a bite…”How do you get an elephant in the fridge?.......Cut it up!” or “What plant can you hide under, but if you spend longer than 3-4 mins under it, you will die?.....a lilly pad!”.
Once back at the Old Bridge Backpackers and completely satisfied with our Mokoro trip, we found out that we would have to spend another 3-4 days waiting for my debit card to arrive. So in the meantime, Sonny and I booked another trip. We decided our third splurge in Botswana would be to see the great Ntwetwe Salt Pans covering an enormous 6500 square kms of ground. Taking a 2 hour bus ride back through Gweta, we were dropped on the side of the highway where we had to hike a few kms into the forest to find a place called Planet Baobab. This hidden resort was beautifully situated amongst hundreds of giant Baobab trees which date back thousands of years. That night we stole mattresses from the pool side deciding that we needed a good night’s sleep on the hard dusty ground before we left for our salt pan excursion. Joining us on this trip was a Canadian family from Ontario– mom, dad and 2 girls around our age. We took a safari truck 2 hours (40kms) to where the salt pans began, then wrapped our heads with Keikos and doubled up on 4x4 quads. We drove out convoy style into the salt pans for about an hour, seeing nothing but a jackal before coming across our camp. It was literally in the middle of nowhere - nothing but horizon and mirages. The dirt surface was grey, cracked and brittle because 10 years ago it was a deep lake, but tectonic movements stopped the rivers from flowing so it dried up. It is called the Salt Pans because of the spikey salty grasses on the outskirts. The animals would eat these salty grasses which would germinate from the wind blowing their droppings. For dinner, our guides made an amazing brie over a fire and we awed over the sunset. They laid out beds on the ground and we tried to sleep, becoming dizzy from all the stars. The moon was so bright and shooting stars sent me into happy places. By far the coolest place I’ve ever slept! Rising early to a stunning sun rise, we had coffee and muffins and hopped back on our quads. Half way back, once we reached some grassy land, we stopped and visited some Mere Cats who were accumulatively emerging from a hole in the ground. They stood tall, balancing on their tails, warming themselves with the sun and scoping the grounds for breakfast. Mere cats have binocular vision and can see an astonishing 2 kms. Uninterrupted by our presence, we sat with them and they climbed on our legs for greater height. I wanted to pocket one and take it home but that would be unethical…hundreds of pictures within about 20 mins should sum it up.
Once back at Planet Baobab we were rushed to hike the 2 kms back to the highway and catch the bus back to Maun. But as we were scurrying around, a seniors tour group strolled in and wanted to take our pictures…the bus driver approached us wondering where we were going. We expressed that we were in a hurry and had to get the bus back to Maun. He said they had passed that bus miles down the highway and that it was broken down, but they were headed to Maun and had room on their bus so we were encouraged to join. Without much contemplation, we agreed it was a generous offer and couldn’t turn down a free ride with a bunch of seniors. We had to introduce ourselves over the microphone, entertain a little, and everyone was thrilled to have us on board. Quite possibly it highlighted their tour picking up two stranded backpackers and definitely highlighted ours as we longed for the comfort of our grandparents and thoroughly enjoyed their company. When we arrived in Maun, we checked them into their lovely hotel and the tour guide/tour company owner, Yohann, invited us to stay for dinner. He then expressed that being loyal tour business to the hotel, they set him up in a massive chalet, which is too big for himself and it had a private upstairs with 2 beds. We had scored with another generous South African…We got to know Yohann and his driver, Chris, quite well over an amazing dinner buffet, drinks included, and we decided to stay 2 nights on account of difficulties getting my debit card. The seniors loved having us around and we found them equally entertaining. Yohann wants us to visit his home in Fouriesbourg where his family owns a hotel and he wants to start a tour company with me…
After many hours and difficulties dealing with African postal services, my debit card was now in hand! Thank you mom!!! And thank you Sonny for supporting me for 2 months! We were now ready to leave Botswana with somewhat of a plan in mind, simply knowing which border we had to cross into South Africa. We drove about 2 hours before stopping in a town called Palapye. As I got out to purchase some oranges (2.5 pula each=~45 cents) we were struck with some unfortunate news – our drive had forgotten his passport and license. Luckily since it was Botswana, the buses aren’t always loaded with people because they actually follow a schedule unlike the other countries. So everyone on the bus gathered to discuss a plan. It was a first - time had become an issue in Africa! We admitted that we were impartial to the plan because we were just going with the wind and had no defined schedule. But one boy on the bus was traveling to South Africa in order to have an operation – he had an eye disease and if he didn’t make it in time, he could not book again for 3 months. Everyone was angry with the driver and voices raised as we learnt that we would have to wait for someone to deliver his documents. Well, four hours later, after explained that it would be 1 ½ hours, the driver returned. The boy needing the operation missed his appointment and the bus driver refused to compensate his wasted money spent on transport. At this point, after hours lost, we knew we would be getting to Makhado (our destination) very late and everyone advised it was not a safe place to arrive at night. The bus we were on was going to Johannesburg so we made an executive change of plans – we told the bus driver, because he had ruined our plans, we were to sleep on the bus and pay no extra fee for the extended ride. This was well taken and we were to figure out a plan in the morning. On board with us was a big momma and a few others. I awoke once in Joburg and huddled in my sleeping bag soon to realize it was not sufficient for this frigid temperature. South Africa was COLD and my body had not experienced this feeling since Canada! I shivered all night and wondered if I’d survive until morning. When the sun rose, momma asked me if I was still alive. I was so happy to see her and wondered how she made it without any blankets – another astonishing African woman… Never did I think I would see my breath in Africa. We decided we were not prepared for South African weather and we wanted sunny beaches. Off to Park station to catch the next bus to Mozambique! Running around the massive bus station trying to book tickets we were lucky enough to catch one leaving immediately. It took us about 45mins to drive through Joburg – a big, old, bustling city with traffic lights and Mcdonalds!? Culture shock! We panicked as everything seemed too modernized and wanted back to black Africa. Once crossing into Mozambique and noticing the drastic difference from prosperous to poor, we felt strangely at home again.
We made an effort to visit every capital city in order to gauge the countries standards and they are usually a good indication of the wealth and culture. However, Maputo was a bit deceiving. First, noticing the abundance of cars and lack of local transport. Mozambique is a Portuguese speaking country therefore bringing in many Europeans, majority who smoke. We resided at Fatima’s Backpackers who only had cement to sleep on for campers so we splurged on dorm rooms for 15$/person. Pretty much once we hit Malawi, backpacker lodges became available with shared dorm rooms (bunk beds having mattresses with body indents), communal toilets and showers with toilet paper and running water and plenty of travelers to meet. We stayed 5 nights in Maputo, spending each day walking around the city and getting a real feel for it. There were many cafes run by Portuguese where you could find pastries, baguettes, coffee but nothing too affordable for us budget backpackers. So we decided on lunch at a place that had tables outside for us to people watch. Shocked to see hamburgers on a menu we ordered the hamburgar complet (beef patty, cheese, fried egg, onion, tomato, lettuce) for only 50 meticash! (~1.20$). Too good to be true? Indeed. When the burgers arrived a man beside us said, “Had I known you ordered food I would have advised you not to. I wouldn’t even feed that to my dog” The patty was about a millimetre thin composed of bright pink meat, the cheese was processed, the tomato was some red, jelly-like awful tasting goo, the measly piece of lettuce was wilted and brown, the bun was hard and the eggs are always questionable. It simply was not eatable and I feared getting sick. He informed us that Maputo is full of hamburger stands but we failed this time. We happily replaced our meal with a beer and asked this guy for more insight on Maputo. He told us that the reason we see these huge prestigious hotels, casinos and cars, while also seeing so many kids dumpster diving, begging and homeless, is because of the illegal trafficking of cocaine. There was an obvious gap between classes so this made sense and I don’t doubt it considering our experiences there. He sniffled as he was feeling the repercussions from the night before and had to leave to find more drugs.
We were eager to reach the Indian Ocean and after almost missing our bus we were finally on our way to Tofo where we were anxious to scubadive. After a 10 hour bus ride in yet another cram packed mini bus we made it to Tofo, a very small town built in sand dunes on the beach. Here, there are more palm trees than I’ve seen in my entire life - a local guy walks around telling people to watch out for the falling coconuts. There are many huts in the surrounding while the beach is home to some very rich people living in proper houses, a few resorts and chalets owned by South Africans. The town consists of restaurants, curios, a few vendors selling vegetables, baguettes, alcohol, cigarettes, and a few grocery items and that’s literally it. There is a police station, a few dive shops, and an internet cafe. We instantly fell in love with this remote area and heard great things about the diving which we soon discovered. As we both had our Open Water Certifications we decided to take our Advanced course with Peri-Peri Divers since they offered an accommodation package with the backpackers where we were staying. The advance course requires you to do a navigation component using a compass, a drift dive, a fish identification dive and two deep dives (below 18metres). The course took 5 days but when it finished we were so impressed with our experience that Steve, the owner, picked up on our eagerness. He then made a proposal…he said if we were willing to stay a few months, we could proceed to take our Rescue Course, First Aid, and Dive Master Course. He said the shop would pay for our courses if we worked every day around the dive shop and basically log dives since the Dive Master course requires 60 of them. We took the night to rethink our trip and celebrate my birthday eve! On our way home we stopped for lunch at a momma’s home. Often people will invite you in because they know they can sell you a plate of food and make some money. We took a look in the pot over the coals, saw rice and beans and agreed on 50 mets/plate. As soon as I finished my plate I started feeling dizzy and nauseous and had to run home leaving Sonny to pay for the meal. I spent most of that night in the toilet and claimed it a bad case of food poisoning. Hours later Sonny was joining me and we kept the campsite up all night as we took turns racing out of our tent. I woke on my birthday feeling awful – weak, tired, and disappointed in momma’s rice and beans! Birthday breakfast consisted of juice and dry crackers. We lazed on the beach, napped and had a good relaxing day. For dinner Sonny had planned a big seafood feast, and as much as I love seafood, my belly still wasn’t prepared for it. So we ventured to a nice resort called Casa Barry where we shared a chicken burger and chips. The only other people in the restaurant were also celebrating a birthday so I went over to meet my other June 7th birthday buddy. Turns out they were sitting with the chef and they invited us to join. He bought us a bottle of wine and a Belgian waffle with ice cream. I told them how my Grandmaman used to make me chocolate chip Belgian waffles with whip cream and strawberries all the time growing up and it was a really special gift.
We returned with good news for Steve, accepting his offer and we’ve now been in Tofo for over a month, diving almost every day, taking tourists out on Ocean safaris and recruiting people from Casa Barry to dive with Peri-Peri. Peri-Peri diver’s is affiliated with Casa Barry Resort because the Marine Megafauna Association is stationed there. The MMA works closely with Peri-Peri and consists of conservation scientists working to protect the Inhambane province waters. We have 2 specific scientists we work with, Dr. Simon Pierce and Dr. Andrea Marshall. Simon is a whale shark specialist and Andrea is basically the founder of any piece of information ever discovered on Manta Rays. Tofo bay is the only place in the world where you can swim with Manta Rays and Whale sharks and see them year round. I’ve had my share of close encounters with them on scuba and was absolutely amazed by these animals. On the Ocean safaris it is quite common to swim with Bottlenose and Humpback Dolphins and we are also fortunate enough to be here during Humpback Whale season. Right now the bay is swarmed with hundreds of them breeching and I anxiously await the day that one shows up while on scuba. Working 6 days is a pleasure and we are spoiled to be renting our own home, situated only about 2 mins from the beach and 30 steps from the dive shop. Our house is small but spacious enough for us. It has a straw roof, a kitchen, 3 rooms (we share the main one with a double bed), an indoor and outdoor shower, toilet, a braai (“bbq”), a beautiful patio and a garden. We pay 12,000mets/200$ a month but have had a few backpackers spend some nights to help with the rent. We hope to finish our course by the first week of August and become certified Dive Masters. From here, I will head South as I have a plane to catch from Cape town on September 3rd. This will probably be my last post but I think it should be sufficient until I get home to share the rest of my experiences – this is only a summary!
Random Facts…
Ugandan Population – ~28 Million
Currency – 2000 Ugandan Shillings = 1$
Capital – Kampala
Language – Lugandan, tribal languages
2 Month tourist visa = 60$
Common street food – Chapatis or Rolex, coal charred maize cobs, grilled matoke
Nile special = 2000-3000Ush/1$
Kenya population - ~32 Million
Capital – Nairobi
Languages – Kiswahili, tribal languages
Currency – 70 Kenyan Shillings = 1$
Common street food = Chips (handcut potatoes) in a bag eaten with a toothpick, grilled chicken or beef
Tusker beer = 60-80KSh/~1$
Tanzania population - ~35 million
Language – Swahili, tribal languages
3 month tourist visa = 50$ for Canadians, 100$ for Americans!
Common street food – Chapatis, charred maize cobs, boiled peanuts, chicken and chips, Ugali, mandazis
Currency – 1500 Tanzanian Shillings = 1$
Capital – Dodoma
Birthplace of Freddie Mercury!
Safari Lager = ~0.60$. Impossible to find cold beers.
Malawi population – ~12 million
Currency – 140 Kwacha = 1$
Capital = Lilongwe
Common street food = Chips with cabbage salad, boiled peanuts, samosas, andazis (deepfried dough ball), bags of popcorns
Language – Chichewa, tribal languages
30ml sachet of Malawi Gin = 0.30$
Spice = Nali chilli sauce
Languages – English, Bemba, Lozi, Nyanja, Tonga + 72 tribal languages!
Capital – Lusaka
90 Day tourist visa = 25$
Mosi Lager = 6000-8000K/ ~1.50$
Common street food – Nshima, dried fish (choma, tilapia, tiger), bags of popcorns (500k)
Spice = Peri Peri (chilli) powder
Botswana population - ~2 million
Language – English, Setswana, tribal languages
Currency – 6 Pula = 1$
Capital – Gaborone
Common street food – sweets, shoprite! (supermarket)
Castle Lager = ~1.25$
Mozambique population - ~20 million
Capital = Maputo
Language – Portuguese, tribal languages
Currency – 30 Metical/meticash/mets = 1$
2M beer = 1$
30 day Tourist visa = 70$
Common Street food = buns or baguettes, fresh seafood, mandarins, cassava root
*The water is not potable anywhere and has a brown tint to it.
*Toilet paper is either blue or pink in most countries
*Minibuses (called Chapas in Mozambique, matatus in Uganda/Kenya) are the common taxi in every country and the cheapest form of local transport. This is how we travel in order to get the purely African experience. They have 4 rows, fitting a tight 4 per row, plus a front seat. There is a door guy who collects money and hangs out the open door when they are full. Sometimes you are handed a baby, or a bag to hold and there is no such thing as personal space. The record I have counted is 26 people in one. Imagine that! Live chickens are also welcome and there is always room for more!
*We are from North America which does not make us “American”, we are Canadian – they are different countries!
*In Tanzania, villagers do not pay taxes; they only pay a very small fee for water. And the government gives them a 20% loan to become doctors or teachers because of the lack of them.
*You cannot find real brewed coffee in Malawi, Tanzania or Kenya. Although Africa produces really good coffee, it is all exported, leaving locals with really bad instant powders. In other countries it is quite expensive to order percolated coffee.
*Sand flies are the worst!!!
*African men drink sachets of potent alcohol all day, wake with a hang over and claim they have “the malaria”
*Tanzania works on a different hour system than the rest of the world – Their day starts at 6am making it 12 oclock. So 7=1, 8=2, 9=3, 10=4, 11=5, 12=6, 13=7, 14=8, 15=9, 16=10, 17=11, 18=12, 19=13, 20=14, 21=15, 22=16, 23=17, 24=18. Making sure you caught your bus at the right hour was sometimes tricky in translation.
*My name is pronounced Keri because no one can say it properly. Although my Zambian name was Merika…
This should save me some time retelling stories but I’ll be glad to act them out when back home...
- Kali
"Failure comes when seeking the treasure of your destiny, without wanting to live out the destiny."
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