Travel log Zambia
Monday 31-07 (85 km)
We are up early, packing Marc and Barbara’s luggage on top of the car. We try various seat arrangements and eventually manage to squeeze two adults, three children and even more luggage in Wa Bashasha’s rear. Paul complains that he cannot see through the rear window, but just for now that cannot be helped. At 10.00 we are ready to go, but the Britz people have not shown up yet, so Marc cannot hand over the Land Rover Defender. We wait, phone Windhoek and wait. Eventually we hear from Windhoek that we can leave the keys at the reception of the Chobe Safari Lodge. Britz, we decide, is far from a professional organisation and there is a lot of room for improvement. The road to Kazangulu runs through a national park and we enjoy the scenery. The border crossing at the Botswana side is quick and uneventful but the ferry place across the Okavango is primitive and extremely chaotic. We are almost assaulted by people wanting to assist us. I resist them and ask a quiet boy whether he wants to help us. He says yes, and within five minutes he gets Paul and Wa Bashasha on the ferry, much to the chagrin of some of the truck drivers. The Zambian side of the Okavango – Kazangulu – is a completely chaotic pandemonium. No tarmac, run down offices and no visible attempt to guide arriving visitors. Trucks, vendors, visitors, money changers, officials and loiterers. Luckily our guide knows his way around and to our surprise – and without encountering any problems – we leave Kazangulu an hour later. After four road blocks, which we pass without problems, we arrive in Livingstone early in the afternoon. We have no problems finding the Maramba River Lodge and before dark we have settled down in our small chalets.
Tuesday 01-08 (45 km)
After breakfast we go into Livingstone to try and get some kwachas from a bank or from an ATM. We spend about an hour at Barclay’s Bank but in the end they refuse to accept our traveller cheques. Marc is furious and we all agree that Barclay’s in Livingstone still has a lot to learn with respect to customer friendliness. None of the ATMs work, so we try another bank, the Standard Bank. Here, after some hassle, they accept the traveller cheques and we are sure that we can pay our bills in Zambia. Paul, who has visited the Victoria Falls a number of times, has already told us about its incredible and majestic wild beauty, but when we see it for the first time we all fall silent. We walk along the falls, its roaring waters and the dense spray. At the end of the path, and after passing the foot bridge, we are all soaked to the skin. Back at the parking place we soon dry up and try to arrange a rented car to transport for Marc, Barbara and the children to Lusaka. Eventually, to no avail. At the Maramba River Lodge, we celebrate Barbara and Marc’s 9th wedding anniversary with a pleasant dinner. When we later drink a glass of wine around the fire, we see and hear the hippos feeding in the Maramba river.
Wednesday 02-08 (45 km)
In the morning we finally manage to convince a taxi driver to take Marc, Barbara, two children and some of the luggage to Lusaka next day. Paul is glad that he does not have to overload Wa Bashasha. When we have settled the details we are off again to the Victoria Falls. This time we descend into the Zambezi river gorge and have lunch near the “boiling” water with a view on the bridge over the Zambezi and the Zimbabwe side of the river. Fantastic! At night Paul makes beef stew in his potjie and we eat by candle light because of a power cut. When Barbara and I go the reception to settle the bill, we have a very unpleasant experience.
We are charged more than was agreed by e-mail and we have to retrieve our e-mails from the waste paper basket before the dispute is settled. Next they offer us a ridiculously low exchange rate for the dollar, but since it is already late there is little we can do about it. Later that night we draw the Maramba River Lodge balance: much too expensive for the type of lodging they offer, mediocre food for five star restaurant prices, inflexible staff (arriving at the dining room with 7 people we are told that we have to wait for another five minutes because it is not yet 18.00 hours!) and thieving exchange rates. Therefore: never again.
Thursday 03-08 (460 km)
At 09.00 hours we are packed and ready, but no taxi. We wait until 10.00 and then decide to all squeeze into Wa Bashasha and make it for Kafue, an hours drive from the centre of Lusaka. The first 100 km of the Great Eastern are appalling and sometimes there are more potholes than asphalt. Then suddenly the Great Eastern changes into an excellent highway and we are able to travel at some 80 km per hour. Quite an achievement for a 31 years old Land Rover Series III!! Nevertheless, it is already 17.00 hours and nine road blocks later when we enter Kafue. Too late to continue to Lusaka to pick up Remigius Mbwala, an old Tanzanian friend who is going to accompany us to Dar es Salaam. We are, by the way, very content with the international third party insurance sold to us by Alessie in Rotterdam. So far we have not been forced to buy an additional third party insurance at border posts and the road block police and military are apparently too baffled by the impressive looking documents to question them. Some 15 km from Kafue, there is the Lechwe Lodge and although Paul has been there before, we have great difficulties finding the place. When we finally, and after a lot of foul words from Paul, find the gravel road to the lodge it is pitch dark and when we arrive at the gate it is 19.00 hours. The staff is waiting for us and we are made welcome like old friends. An our later a homely dinner is served in the small but stylish dining room. An excellent and chilled Chardonnay is brought to the table. Our grand children do not know what to do with proper linen napkins. Apparently the evolution in our family has come to a grinding halt. Paul smiles and mutters that we have arrived in the world bygone he used to love so much, but that we will see tomorrow.
Friday 04-08 (110 km)
That world bygone is a small “settler” island in a, by and large, alarmingly run down Zambia. Our cottages are small but very clean, the bed sheets and pillows smell fresh and we almost feel guilty when a maid brings coffee and tea at 06.30. The manager of Lechwe Lodge – Joshua Chizuwa – is the perfect host and his staff is not only genuinely friendly but also well trained. It was, according to Paul, like this six years ago and it is still the same now. That is rather uncommon in present day Africa. Most medium and upmarket lodges and guest houses offer a reasonable quality when they are new, but then move down hill rapidly. At the same time many new, and sometimes good, places are established. This is the main reason why most travel guides for Africa – like the Lonely Planet and Bradt Guides – are almost totally useless with respect to accommodation. Another reason being that the information collected for the guides is usually four years old when you use it. Then, of course, we are also too lazy to check on Lonely Planet internet updates. I will tell you more about Lechwe Lodge later. While Barbara and the family make a “game drive”, Paul and I make our way to the centre of Lusaka to pick up Remigius Mbawala. Luckily he is staying in the Lusaka Hotel on Cairo Road and we have no problems finding the place. We find Remigius in good health, although a little frustrated that he was holed up in Lusaka for almost two days, and our reunion is accompanied by the usual hugging and shoulder clapping. Two hours later, the three of us are back at the Lechwe Lodge.
In the afternoon, Joshua takes us fishing and it is Eline who catches the only big tilapia of the day. At 16.00 we have tea with cones and just after dark we sit around the wood fire sipping drinks. Paul is enjoying his first single malt in weeks, and chatting with the two other guests at Lechwe. After dinner, we sort out our luggage – Barbara and family are leaving for Amsterdam tomorrow – and then have a coffee in the coffee room/library of the lodge. It is cold, but luckily there is a fire burning.
Saturday 05-08 (170 km)
At 08.00 we all – Remigius and Paul in front, Marc, Barbara, Jelle, Eline, Thijs and I in the back – manage to squeeze in the car. Even the three travel bags and the five back packs find a place. Just after 10.00 we arrive at Lusaka International Airport, on the way passing the place where Paul was almost killed in a car accident some 16 or 17 years ago. There is some irritation when Marc discovers that he has to pay US$ 120 airport exit fee, but eventually all luggage clears customs. Marc changes his last traveller cheques and leaves the kwachas received with us. On our way back we get lost in Lusaka, shop in one of the largest Spar supermarkets we have ever seen and get fined for speeding on the Great Eastern. Just outside Lusaka a police man jumps on the road and stops us. He shows Paul his speed registration equipment which shows 72 km - only 70 km allowed – and demands 65.000 kwachas. It is clear that he and his colleagues expect to be bribed and when Paul offers 10.000 kwachas, they except. When he walks towards the car, one of the officers runs after Paul and warns Paul that there is another speed trap in Kafue! As it turns out, he is right! It is almost 15.00 before we are back in Lechwe.
Sunday 06-08 (0 km)
Rest day, but I promised to tell you a little more of what Paul calls the “days bygone”. What he means, is Africa in colonial times seen trough the eyes of the expatriate European upper middle class. The times when (small) European islands were created in the middle of nowhere. Luabo in Mozambique was such a place. A sugar estate and factory, a housing site, labour compounds with good housing and sanitary facilities, a hospital and basic health care facilities for all, schools, potable running water and (most of the times) electricity. Clean streets and well kept gardens. For us, a house with servants who were looked after well and who were treated with respect. Some of them, in Luabo, stayed with us for 10 years. Of course, also in those times there was the European rabble, but hardly any of them achieved positions of influence and power. Now, all but very few of these islands have gone. Factories have been reduced to rusted scrap – like the petro-chemical factory in Kafue – the asphalt in the streets of the housing sites has long disappeared and most staff and labour houses are neglected and on the verge of collapse. People, when you speak to them, are desperate, without wage jobs and have often lost their hopes of a better future. Cities, like Kafue, are crumbling. Potholed streets, pavements and sewage systems long gone. Houses that have not seen a paint brush for decades. Still, Paul and I realize that in the 1960s the colonial era had to come to an end and we don’t regret it. Still, we wonder how on earth many things, including public infrastructure, have been allowed to become so messy! Be assured, however. We still think about the “days bygone”, but we don’t wish them back. Lechwe is still one of the few islands that survived. A white farmer and his wife who have maintained standards, be it behind an electrical fence, produce pig meat and tilapia successfully and run a jewel of a guesthouse. All to the benefit of the Zambian economy. We fear, however, that they are really the last generation of “island builders”. When their time comes, we will mourn for them.
Monday 07-08 (290 km)
To day we drive from Kafue to the bridge over the Luangwa. It is almost 12.00 before we hit the Great Eastern, but we make good progress. Although the road is excellent, one of the brackets connecting the roof and window to the chassis breaks. Paul is highly irritated by the ensuing squeaks, but for the time being little can be done. Just before Luangwa bridge, the Luangwa Bridge Camp is signposted. We turn to the right, on to a back-breaking dirt road along the beautiful Luangwa River, and arrive at the camp 20 minutes later. We hire a double and single bed chalet for 25 and 20 US$. The rooms are not really clean and badly protected against mosquitoes. The main building overlooks the magnificent river and there even is a small swimming pool. The camp is owned and run by a Dutchman from South Africa and his English wife. We don’t like the way they loudly deal with their Zambian staff, but then … the place is not ours! Paul and Remigius set out to repair the car with steel wire and after an hour the roof and window is attached again to the chassis. The squeak, however, remains. At night we have a good beef curry and next morning the breakfast is excellent. The bill, however, is an unpleasant surprise, with the food and beers being extremely expensive (per person more than the lodging, and we are no heavy drinkers!). So, if you can, avoid Luangwa Bridge Camp. It is just too bad value for your money.
Tuesday 08-08 (350 km)
Once on the tarmac again, we cross the famous Luangwa bridge and head for Chipata, near the Malawian border. Large parts of the Great Eastern are in ruins and between Luangwa and Chipata we meet 23 road diversions, some of them almost impossible to negotiate without a 4-wheel driven vehicle. Huge lorries and full busses driving at incredible speeds, make driving even more hazardous. We meet 8 road blocks and although we are quickly waved through, they remain a pain in the ass. Dusty and shaken we arrive in Chipata at 16.00 only to find out that the lodge we had in mind - the South African run Mammalula Lodge - is fully occupied already. Some kilometres down the road there is another one - Katuta Lodge - and luckily they have accommodation available. The lodge has clean and spacey rooms and some chalets and is surrounded by beautiful and very well kept gardens. The rates are exceptionally reasonable. We sit and sip a beer, chatting to friendly Zambian staff and learn that the lodge is Zambian owned and run. Dinner is not bad either and we are glad the somewhat grubby Mammalula Lodge was fully booked. So, if you have business in Chipata, you know where to go.
Looking back on Zambia - and considering Lechwe an exceptional island in a positive sense - we are far from impressed. Its cities, by and large, are run down. Sizeable stretches of the main roads are in a (very) bad condition. Along these roads, there are few activities and sometimes one drives for hundreds of kilometres within seeing a small market. People in rural areas are shabbily dressed and do not look healthy. Then, there is the nuisance of the numerous police and military road blocks. Although, with one exception, we were not harassed, we ended up very irritated when we had to produce all our papers every half an hour. Last but not least, petrol, lodging, drinks and food are extremely expensive and often poor value and quality for your money. So far, we never had the feeling that people wanted to take undue advantage of us. In Zambia we had.
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