Category Archives: Cape to Cape

Newstead Abbey

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Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

12 September 2013

Pootle off to the local market in Livingstone. Told not to take photos as the natives are a bit restless. Ramshackle wooden framed stalls with tarpaulins slung over to protect from the sun. Pretty grubby but there’s anything and everything on offer. Woman pours a liquid into wine bottles. Is it the local brew? No. It’s paraffin. Local man asleep on the kerb but something disturbs him and he throws a rock at a taxi. A scuffle ensues until things calm down. He’s the local crazy by the looks of things.

Diversion around the courthouse as it’s now in session and the road in front is closed. Tour of the Livingstone Museum which has an excellent display about Dr Livingstone.

Weselleverything.com including bras

Weselleverything.com including bras

 

A highlight is seeing letters written by Livingstone on Newstead Abbey letterhead. It’s not too far from where I live and quite odd to be here in Africa but reading something written close to home. He actually wrote one of his books whilst staying at Newstead Abbey.

See the falls for the first time. Wow. Not much water flowing on the Zambian side so you can actually see the gorge in all its glory. The border between Zambia and Zimbabwe is the river and the only way to cross is over the 1905 bridge. Hot. Very hot. Humid. Very humid.

Time to cross the border. Stamped out of Zambia in a matter of minutes but my photo needs to be taken by Immigration for some reason.

Enter no-man’s land and are able to walk across the bridge into Zimbabwe. An amazing view of the falls and the downstream gorge.

Pay for a pee

Pay for a pee

 

Some nutter is zipping across the gorge on a wire a la Swallow’s Nest in Yalta. You can also pay exorbitant sums of money to hurl yourself off the bridge into the gorge below on a bungee. Not suicidal so refrain from all this exertion.

Midway across the bridge is a sign “You are now entering Zimbabwe”. Have always wanted to visit Zimbabwe. An overriding memory of news during my childhood in the 70s was Rhodesia and Ian Smith. Those of a certain age will remember John Craven’s Newsround and this was the main source of the young Taurean’s interest in Rhodesia. It always seemed to be in the news and what I remember most about John Craven’s Newsround (that and the Challenger disaster – what was the name of the old grey haired science reporter….Reg something (??)…..answers by email please). A colleague’s father was a Professor of Agriculture and was seconded to Harare University in 1996.

For gangsters only

For gangsters only

 

Remember when his father rang him at work from Harare one day and the conversation went along the lines of, “Dad….Dad….what was that? Dad…can you hear me……Dad…..(pause)……oh….it’s gunshot……(to us in the office)…..there’s shooting outside his office.”

Short drive to the Zimbabwean border post and told not to discuss anything political in public. You never know who is listening. Don’t argue with border officials. Just accept what they say. Otherwise we’ll be there a week waiting for passports.

Hand over passport, USD70 for a double entry visa and entry form. It could take 2hrs. But the passports are collected en masse for processing and told we can go through to visit the falls whilst they do the processing. Enter Zimbabwe technically without passport or visa in our possession. Hmmm.

As the buses have to clear customs which could take hours it’s a short walk to the falls visitor entrance.

We do everything

We do everything

 

Immediately obvious that this is all a bit upmarket compared to Zambia. The trail starts at the far end of the falls by the Livingstone monument and parallels the falls on the other side of the gorge. Wow. Wow. Wow. Amazing views. Rainbows. Mist. Water. Rock. Hot. Very hot. Humid. Very Humid.

Thankfully the falls are at low water flow so not drenched. Apparently at peak flow you can’t see your hand in front of you. Shall let the photos do the talking.

Passport and visa handed back. Took 2hrs to process. Rail station is a neat little affair set in a park. Everything seems clean. Probably due to the fact there was a recent UN Tourism conference here. There’s a relaxed, chilled out feel to Zimbabwe. Not like Zambia.

Evening sunset cruise on the Zambezi river to finish the day off. Local beer is Zambezi so enjoy a Zambezi on the Zambezi whilst wildlife spotting and watching the sunset. All rather relaxing. Snacks include kebabs of crocodile tails. Tastes like hedgehog.

We’ve never had G&T before

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Livingstone, Zambia

11 September 2013

Can tell we’re not travelling very fast through the night as the carriage isn’t rocking as much and there’s a pronounced gap between the clickety and the clack.

Another day on the rails (which is better than going off the rails I suppose) and told that due to speed restrictions we’ll be arriving later at Livingstone than planned. So the hot and sweaty bush dinner surrounded by mosquitoes is off and we’ll be eating on the train in a nice air-conditioned dining car. Jolly good.

Spend most of the day reading or looking out of the window and waving at locals. Give up on trying to write diary as there’s too much rocking and my writing resembles drunk writing.

Livingstone station

Livingstone station

 

Every time we pass a village all the children come running out to wave but even so the train manager tells us that one of the mini buses has had 5 windows smashed by locals throwing stones.

Not a good day for electricity. There are a number of power cuts. Which knocks out the AC. Which makes it very hot. And no lights.

Actually arrive in Livingstone 2hrs earlier than planned. There’s a slightly celebratory mood now we’ve arrived. It’s not the final stop mind. A celebratory G&T is called for. The Crazy Dutch Girls ask what I’m drinking. “We’ve never had G&T before”, they say. What? Ever? Apparently not. They’re introduced to the delights of Mother’s Ruin. Events at dinner shall remain in the diary but suffice to say we can hardly eat for laughing so much. Something about a pasta machine amuses.

…..but the black man starves?

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Lusaka, Zambia

10 September 2013

Forego a 0500hrs wake up call for a game drive and opt for a good night’s sleep instead. A few of us are on the cheese factory tour at 1000hrs. Expecting a tour of the factory to see how they make local cheese. Instead, ushered into a darkened room with faux rocks made of polystyrene and a “waterfall”. This is the cheese cave. It leaves a lot to the imagination. Not allowed to tour the factory. Sit around a large stone table with about 10 plates of various cheeses with an illuminated and etched ostrich egg at one end. Served a decent glass of red wine and tuck into the cheeses. Another glass of red is served. Two glasses in half an hour. At 10 in the morning. Tut.

Depart the lodge at 1200hrs for a short orientation tour of Lusaka.

Cheese & wine party

Cheese & wine party

 

Spend 2hrs stuck in traffic going nowhere fast. The local guide’s idea of a tour is along the lines of……on your right we have a bank…….on your left we have a shop…….on your right we have an embassy……on your left is the post office…..on your right is a bank. It’s dire. The highlight is meant to be a visit to Kenneth Kaunda’s former home. It’s a national monument. Except the access road is closed for resurfacing so a 3 point turn is needed in the mini bus. After 2hrs there’s mutiny on the buses. It’s now 1400hrs and we’re all starving and fed up. Guide is instructed to stop at the first mall and we all decant and scurry off to find something to eat. Bus is to depart for the station at 1600hrs. I can confirm that 2hrs is too long to spend in a small shopping mall. 1hr 40mins too long to be precise. It’s not the best day of the trip.

Board the train at Lusaka station.

The groundsmen's office

The groundsmen’s office

 

It took them 5hrs yesterday to complete the 100km journey due to the speed restrictions. A local passenger train pulls up between us and the platform. There’s a flurry of activity. People scramble aboard. Along the tracks between our train and the passenger train there’s a mix of passengers loading up large sacks of goods through the windows and people selling stuff. The windows are a good 3m off the ground so it’s a fair stretch. Speak with the locals and peer inside the carriage. It’s cramped, hot, sweaty and dark. Take photos of people to show them their image on the camera screen. They love it and all want their photo taken so they can see themselves. One young woman shouts me over as she wants her photo taken. Speaks excellent English and has been travelling on the train since early this morning. She expects to arrive at her destination at 2200hrs tonight. That’s a long trip on a train like this. Her name is Precious. There’s a calmness about her.

Mother is breastfeeding her child but leaves her nipple hanging out for all to see when the child has a breather. All the people are friendly and happy except one. He’s got dreadlocks. The sort that immediately looks like trouble. He’s blacker than the norm. He’s got a chip on his shoulder. He starts ranting, “Why is it that the white man is well fed but the black man starves?”.

Discuss.

Double Dutch

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Lusaka, Zambia

9 September 2013

Were meant to be arriving into Lusaka this morning for an 0900hrs departure. However, due to speed restrictions on the line the train has only made it as far as Kabwe, 100km away from Lusaka which will take another 5hrs. Offload the minibuses and drive 2hrs to the city instead.

Pit stop at the Manda Hills shopping mall to obtain Zambian Kwacha currency from ATMs and toilets/drinks etc. It all seems rather upmarket here and quite a few white people milling around who appear to live here.

Stop at the Kasisi Aids Orphanage run by Polish nuns. Looks after 250 children from babies to late teens. They’re grateful for the various donations.

Kasisi AIDS orphanage

Kasisi AIDS orphanage

 

The two nuns on duty are under 5ft tall and they laugh at my height saying it must be wonderful to be so tall. It has its disadvantages. A Liverpuddlian has painted a snow scene on one of the gable ends featuring snowmen. Most of these children will never see snow.

Away from the orphange it’s a 20km drive along corrugated washboard dirt track to Chaminuka Lodge. Bumpy is an understatement and we all suffer an African massage. A night off the train at the game lodge to enjoy all that it offers.

Being taught Dutch tonight by the Crazy Dutch Girls but they’re taking the mickey and teaching really convoluted words with guttural sounds. They find it amusing that the poor Englishman can’t pronounce things like Enschede and Scheveningen. It’s all double Dutch to me.

Dr Livingstone…..I presume

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Serenje, Central, Zambia

8 September 2013

Clocks back an hour now we’re in Zambia so an extra hour in bed. Depart Lusiwasi station which is seemingly in the middle of nowehere. The public toilets are a wooden shack enclosing an earth pit.

A gang of local children on the platform to greet us. There’s a definite whiff in the air. A certain pong. The unwashed look. Not like Tanzania.

2hr drive along the Great North Road to Livingstone Memorial. Nothing but trees ranging in colour from autumnal reds and oranges to Spring greens. Punctuated by grey rocks. Police check points near the junction with the road to the Democratic Republic of Congo which we follow upto about 30 klicks from the border before turning off on to bumpy dirt roads to the Memorial site.

Lusiwasi station

Lusiwasi station

 

Passing villagers on their way to church dressed up in their Sunday best. Men wearing suits and ties. Everyone a lot friendlier here and happy, smiling faces that don’t stop waving. Lots of signs for the “Kingdom Hall of Jehovah Witnesses”. Each village has its own water pump and borehole and a gathering place consisting of a covered circular enclosure.

Pull up at Livingstone’s Memorial. In the woodland. Like the New Forest or Sherwood Forest. Calm. Serene. Peaceful. An appropriate place.

Young woman approaches. Her name is Barbara. She’s the caretaker for the site. There are two spots. The place where Livingstone died. Was a wooden hut with thatched roof. Now a simple plaque marks the spot. A short walk is the location where Livingstone’s heart, lungs and innards are buried in a biscuit tin. His body then being transported home.

Station public toilets - I kid you not!

Station public toilets – I kid you not!

 

These were buried under a tree but this has now been replaced by an obelisk.

Wander through the local village. Brick built homes. Very neat and tidy. Earth swept clean so the snakes can’t hide. Solar panels and satellite dishes. Young woman is washing clothes in a plastic bowl with a huge block of green soap. Ask if I can take a photo of her thatched enclosure and she deliberately moves herself so she can be in the shot. Speaks excellent English, as all the villagers do. Local women washing clothes at the water pump. One elderly woman pumps water into a gallon plastic container and walks off with the full container on her head.

The ice cubes we had to cool our drinks are handed out to the local kids who love putting them in their mouth and screaming at the cold sensation. A young girl licks her cube like an ice lolly.

Closed

Closed

 

Young man approaches and is the father of two of the children we’ve been playing with. He wants a photo of his children now so they can see what they used to look like when they grow up. He thinks we have Polaroid cameras but obviously don’t. Agree to post some photos to him. You don’t think about things like that. Children growing up with no photos of their childhood like we have.

Pass through Chief Chatumbo’s Palace to see if we can visit. Can’t as he’s not in. He’s the local chieftain and is on his Sunday walk. The palace is simply a bungalow in the woods.

Train has moved on to Serenje station and have to cross the tracks quickly as a local passenger train is about to arrive. Glad I’m not travelling on that. Cramped, dark, hot and sweaty by the looks of things.

Clickety clack…..clickety clack

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Makasa, Northern, Zambia

7 September 2013

Really cold during the night as we’re at altitude and in need of a blanket. Wus.

Full day on the train travelling through Zambia. Clickety clack. Clickety clack. As we trundle along. Very. Slowwwlllyyy. Arrived at the border early. 6hrs ahead of schedule apparently. Ahead of schedule…..in Africa?!?! Crikey. Consequence is that we have border formalities at Nakonde over breakfast. Passports are handed in for processing en masse by someone else. None of this queuing malarky at a grotty border post. Oh no. All very civilised.

Zambian flag at half mast as a Government Minister has died. Can’t imagine that happening in the UK. The bunting would be out for certain ministers.

Lounge

Lounge

 

Quick walk onto the station grounds and see a British registered Volvo in the car park.

Lazy day catching up on diary and looking out of the window. Plenty of trees along the brown landscape. Occasional splash of green from an acacia tree – its roots go deeper to find water.

Afternoon Tea is served and told this is not Rovos Rail or the Blue Train and don’t have to dress up unlike some British travellers the other week who wore jackets and ties for the occasion. Stiff upper lip and all that. Excellent scones.

Having left the smiling, happy faces and waving children of Tanzania behind we now find feral children who are a bit vicious. Stones are thrown at the train as we stop at Makasa station in the evening. Begging for food and money. Spend a couple of hours at Makasa filling up each carriage’s water tank from a single small bore stand pipe and waiting for signals. Children quite noisy and running under the train being pests.

Discuss over dinner the fact that we’re sitting here in plush (it’s all relative) surroundings eating a 4 course meal being watched by hundreds of locals who seemingly have nothing in life. Makes you think.

Crazy Dutch Girls

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Makambako, Njombe Region, Tanzania

6 September 2013

Long 2hr drive to Isimila Stone Age site near Iringa. Expecting great things from this but all we see is a pile of rocks which we’re told are Stone Age implements. Disappointing. Highlight however is a walk into the nearby canyon with stone pillars that have been formed by the river eroding away the valley but leaving numerous freestanding stone pillars. Amazing landscape. Reminds me of Monument Valley and other similar canyons in the USA but on a much, much smaller scale. Steep scramble down to the valley floor passing vertical stacks upto100-200ft tall. Good walk along the sandy dried up river bed. Amazing views.

Iringa is a bustling town high up on an escarpment and we’re all dumped in the middle of town and left to our own devices for 2hrs.

Ooops

Ooops

 

Hmmm. A few skip lunch on the grounds that there doesn’t appear to be anywhere decent and hygienic to eat. Bus station is a hive of activity and one bus is jacked up about 3ft on one side to carry out running repairs but this doesn’t stop people boarding. All the buses look full and the sort that you would share your seat with a chicken or a goat. Bit native.

Find the vegetable market accessible by a narrow door opening out to rickety wooden stalls laden with produce protected from the sun my low slung tarpaulins. Have to stoop.

In need of a pee find the public library. They’ll have a public toilet won’t they? They don’t but they let me use the staff toilets. Lad has to find one with running water first. It’s all a bit manky. Surprisingly large library and all the books look like they’ve fallen out of the 70s & 80s. Quite a selection.

Long 2.5-3hr drive back to the train and pass a “Tim Dighton, Thorney, Peterborough” lorry. Assume it’s been exported rather than on a delivery?

Dinner with the two Dutch girls and a Brasilian lady. Brasilian lady is from Porto Alegre where I used to work and her husband owns the hotel I stayed in. Small world! Dutch girls tell me they’re known on the train as the “Crazy Dutch Girls”. Hmmm. They’ll feature in the diary but not the blog. Are you reading this girls? ;o)

 

White Masai

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Kisaki, Morogoro Region, Tanzania

5 September 2013

Stationary in the station overnight at Kisaki. As we prepare to depart the station can hear screams from a nearby building. Told it’s a local man being beaten for stealing. Walk through the village to the local junior school to meet teachers and pupils. Introductory talk by the Deputy Principal before meeting the teachers who all speak good English. Pupils wearing blue and white uniforms in various states of cleanliness. A class give a rendition of the National Anthem. Donations of cash, pens, paper etc are gratefully received. We’re free to walk around and say hello. Walk into one classroom and all the pupils stand as I enter. Like I used to when I was at school. Do they still do that these days?

Hey teachers

 

Hey teachers

It’s apparent that the white giant standing before them is slightly intimidating and so jokingly stride into the centre of the classroom at full height rumbling “Grrrr..rrrrr….rrrrrr” which causes minor panic amongst the young teens. They fight to get out of the way partially scared, partially laughing, tripping over each other. Raise my arms slightly pretending to be a monster as I did with my nieces when they were young. This sends the whole class running about the room trying to escape. They know it’s for laughs and are enjoying it…..as are my fellow travellers who are laughing in the corner.

The “bell” rings for break time – it’s someone banging a metal wheel. Chaos ensues as all the pupils escape from the gloom of their classrooms with dirt floors and basic wooden seats for the lucky few. There’s a donation of a blow up beach ball emblazoned with the Canadian flag. Hundreds of children are trampling over each other in a massive scrum trying to reach the ball. It won’t last long at that rate. Continue doing my great white monster impression in the playground which scatters children.

Class dismissed

Class dismissed

 

It’s a great game. They all want their photo taking so they can see the image on the camera screen. They’re all trying to push each other out of the way to get in the shot. Great fun. Also worth noting that some of the younger ones may never have seen a white person before.

Enter the nearby Masai village and told it’s the real McCoy and not for tourists. Yet we find tourists already there and the Masai women have laid out the souvenirs in readiness for our arrival. The Masai warriors see me and tell guide that I am a “White Masai” on account of my height. A chopped up goat is on the grass and part of it is roasting on the wood fire. The essential kit for the modern Masai warrior includes carrying a stick, a knife and a mobile phone. They’re intrigued by us as we are by them and they take delight in taking photos of us on their camera phones.

Inside a Masai home, which is a temporary affair, are bedrooms and a kitchen area

Water for beak time

Water for beak time

 

The beds are made of sticks and the bedsheets are cow skins. A small fire in the corner of one room is the kitchen.

Treated to a traditional Masai warrior song and dance routine which involves a lot of warbling and jumping up and down. Somewhat ruined by them finishing off with “In the jungle, the quiet jungle, the lion sleeps tonight…..awumba whey…..”. You know the rest and you’re singing it to yourself now aren’t you….??

Close to the rail station are some hot springs which the locals have just told us about. Near boiling point the water gurgles up and forms reddish crusty stone craters. Have to watch your step as the ground is boggy in places.

Have a few hours to kill before train departs so a walk through the village is required. Everyone friendly and happy and smiling and lots of “jambo”. Locals like their photo being taken but only if you show them the image on the camera screen which makes them squeal with laughter. It’s a great ice-breaker and most speak enough English to have a quick conversation with. The main road through the village is a dirt track with shops either side selling anything and everything. Mobile phone companies and Pepsi are the big advertisers here.

The lion sleeps tonight – awumba whey

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Selous Game Reserve, Tanzania

4 September 2013

Trundle down the rails overnight to Kisiki station. Travel
on open safari jeeps through the village. Plenty of children waving at us as
they go to school and we go to Selous Game Reserve along rough dirt track
roads. Shake, rattle and roll is the theme for today. Once inside the park the
jeep roof is raised to afford better views and at least we can now stretch our
legs enroute. Spend the next 4-5hrs driving along bumpy dirt tracks looking for wildlife.
Don’t have a tracker so it’s wandering around aimlessly hoping for the best. On
a previous game drive in South Africa we had a proper guide and tracker with
animals around every corner but on this particular drive it’s a good hour
before we see anything of note and that’s a solitary giraffe a mile away.

We are the cheeky boys

We are the cheeky boys.

 

Pit stop at Selous’s grave – he being killed in action by
animals rather than warfare. The only toilets are behind a bush.

Another few hours of driving around but this time we do see
more interesting animals. The highlight is 3 lions and a lioness. We’re up
close and personal about 10ft away. They’re lying down cooling off in the
shade. It’s too hot even for them to think about killing anything. Quick picnic
lunch by a lake all laid out on the bonnets of the jeep. Some other tour group
in the distance are fine dining with tables and chairs which all seems very
civilised. Glad to stretch legs though.

Back in the jeeps for another 4hrs of game drive but after
an hour of being bounced about in cramped conditions without really seeing
anything the consensus is we’ve had enough and instruct driver to return to the
train as we’ve all done much better game drives before. It takes a further 1.5hrs to reach the train such is the terrain.

Never has a cold beer been needed so much.

Gridlock

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Dar es Salaam, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

3 September 2013

Meet fellow travellers. There are 32 of us. Mix of South African, Australian, Canadian, American, British, Portuguese, Brasilian, Dutch and ze Germans. It’s like a meeting of the United Nations.

Day trip to Bagamayo. It’s only 70km away so won’t take long. Ho ho ho. It takes 2.5-3hrs. Most of the time is spent sitting in the gridlock that is Dar Es Salam. Stationary in Salam. Travel through the city centre and out the other side along the coast road stopping for the Presidential car to pass. Once out of the city it’s open country roads and speed along good quality metalled roads.

Arriving at Bagamayo old fort after all that time we’re all dying for the loo.

Boat builders

Boat builders

 

Glad I’m a bloke as the toilets are a hole in the floor and disgusting. There’s a hose pipe dripping water into a blue plastic drum like the sort you find on building sites next to cement mixers. That’s for washing your hands. There’s lots of cries from the women along the lines of “has anyone got any tissues or wet wipes?”.

Walk through the German cemetery and along the beach. The locals looking bemused at a group of white people in varying types of dress ambling through their manor.

The fish market further up the coast is a real native affair. An auction is under way for the catch of the day. A boat is a few yards out from the beach chucking yellow plastic containers into the sea. These are then collected by locals who race up the beach and deposit them at a lorry for onward distribution. It’s cooking oil from Zanzibar.

Lunch at a beach resort and told it will be two minutes for the buffet to be laid out.

Dishwasher

Dishwasher

 

It takes 1hr. And then it’s stone cold. Ridiculous. It’s one redeeming feature being that it has clean toilets – even if a door is missing from one cubicle.

Just over 3hrs to drive back to Dar Es Salam. 2hrs of which is stuck in traffic where we only manage 5km. We’re sitting ducks for the street sellers who offer the usual snacks and drinks. One seller is trying to flog vehicle related stuff like warning triangles, car mats, wipers etc. We have no need for a warning triangle but do indulge in packs of cashew nuts.

Our bus is the Commonwealth bus full of Canadians, Brits and Australians and we’re having a bit of fun. Pull up alongside ze German bus and zey are very serious looking.

Fed up of sitting in traffic a few of us jump out to stretch our legs and walk with the intention that the bus will pick us up when it reaches us. Walked about 20m when the traffic clears and the bus drives off into the distance. It’s another kilometre before we meet the bus the other side of the intersection. Seemed like a good idea at the time but it’s too hot to be doing anything strenuous. Arrive at the station and have to do the same as last night – cross in front of the stationary oncoming traffic. Which takes another age.

Train pulls out from Dar Es Salam station during dinner. We’ll be rocking and a rolling all the way to Victoria Falls.