Another day. Another country. Popping into Botswana an hour away. Botswanan tour company require us to sign indemnity forms. Sign our life away.
Nothing but trees all the way. Short queue for Zimbabwean immigration. They’re actually very friendly and not what you expect. Friendlier than any other immigration official I’ve come across. Passport scanned and stamped in a matter of seconds.
Transfer through no-man’s land to Botswana border for passport scan and check. Visa free. Before returning to the jeeps it’s a requirement to disinfect your shoes for disease control. It’s a small tray of dirty liquid. More a case of it contaminating me than me contaminating Botswana.
The young lad driver is replaced by his small, squat, female boss who clearly thinks she’s above everyone else. You wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley. The jeep lurches forward and it’s apparent that the suspension, steering and tracking is shot to pieces as we wallow along the road. The woman driver takes a phone call and props phone between head and shoulder to converse. Clearly not concentrating on driving as the wallowing is exacerbated by her poor driving. There’s a great deal of weaving about. There’s a shout from the back to the driver that she’s to stop talking on the phone as the rear of the truck is fish tailing all over the place. Woman driver is indignant. How dare you distract the driver while she’s driving. It’s dangerous. Don’t you know. The cheeky little thing. Driver is now wound up and clearly got the hump and a little bit nervous. Gears are missed. It’s clear why we had to sign indemnity forms now.
Couple of hours floating on a boat along the river. Namibia one side. Botswana the other. Highlight is watching a herd of elephants cross from the shore to an island. They all cross with trunks holding the tail in front. The odd trunk coming up for air snorkel like. At the mid point they’re all pretty much submerged. An amazing sight. The bull elephant waiting on the shore until the rest have cross before he wades through.
The afternoon game drive follows the river but from the shore which gives a different perspective. See elephants. Not tens of elephants. Hundreds of elephants. An impressive sight.
Return to the border. Botswana is a doddle. Zimbabwe takes a bit of time. All passports collected en masse for processing. Another guide pushes in front of us with two old ladies with the excuse that they’re old ladies and can’t stand in the heat. This starts another lady off saying she’s an “old” lady as well and we end up with a game of “Top Trumps Old Ladies”. I’m 65 says one. I’m 76 says the other. 1-0.
Back on the train and having a shower and hairwash. Manage to get a bit of soap in my eye and in the process of washing it out open my eyes. It’s pitch black. Oh. My. God. I’ve gone blind. Help. The soap has made me blind.
Don’t panic. But no. It’s just another power cut. No lights. No AC. And no water pump. No water pump. Equals. No water. So there I am. Standing naked. In a dry shower. Not a pretty sight. A head full of soapy shampoo. Thinking I’ve gone blind. It’s a few minutes standing in the dark all soaped up.
BBQ dinner on the platform delayed as the local passenger train due to arrive at said platform is delayed. They don’t want a load of locals jumping off and spoiling the party. Eventually sit out under the sodium street lights. It’s like a scene from a Victorian sepia coloured photo. Entertained by local dancers with drums. Eldest is about 100 and looks like he might drop down at any moment. Clearly forgotten to put his teeth in.
