The Epic East Africa Walkabout 2014: Day 9

Rouvierre and Ken chose to take a room in the little lodge last night which turned out to be a wise choice, we were in the car park which had very bright lights so we felt we were sunbathing all night and on top of that we had some mozzies that got into our net and that is something that makes me a little neurotic especially when I am in Malaria city. There I was sitting up in the middle of the night trying to swat the dam things with Ernest going "oh for god sake not every mozzie carries malaria....” That is too much for me as then I wanted to throttle him too.

So morning arrived none too soon for me and I was very envious of Ken and Rouvierre and their mozzie net and comfortable bed. The first thing we had to do is go and find a bank to try and draw money as none of our ATM cards were working at the border plus I needed to get a card for my I-pad as my SA internet card was not working. That would mean I couldn't get any blogs through until we left Zambia in 10 days time. In addition the guys at our Green view lodge would not take Dollars or Rands or a credit card - only Kwatcha - so Rouvierre, Kobus and I went off to town and the others had to stay put until we came back with the money, we could have made a run for it as there was no gate at the entrance but he would never have believed we would return and pay our bill.

We finally left at 8.30 and found a thing that looked like a bank where Kobus changed his dollars. The lady behind the counter got herself in a state as her machine wouldn't work so she had to write down every bill number and then had only 20 Kwatcha notes. Kobus's pockets were bulging with notes which put us off changing any more there, so Rouvierre and I decided to see if we could draw money out of our credit cards and were told the only banks that would do that would be Barclays or Standard National and they were at the circle wherever the hell that was.

Next stop was the MTN shop. We had to try and find someone who could either figure out how to get my internet card going or buy a new one from Zambia. Well that was harder than you would imagine as every second shop actually sells phone cards but nobody knows how to put it in the I-Pad or get it working. We eventually found what they call a service provider who sold us a card which we registered in Kobus' name as the two dumb blonds had forgotten to take their passports with us. I must say once we found this little guy in the " official MTN shop" then things started to go a bit smoother. They first had to register the new card, then cut it to fit the I-pad, then put airtime onto it. With each of these processes we had to take the card, put it in someone else's phone, then back into the I-pad then back to someone else's phone and after more than an hour I suddenly got connection and I could send the blog. “Eureka” we had connection again and hopefully cheaper than before.

Now to try and find a bank with an ATM that would accept our cards...in Mongu that is not an easy feat. First one had a queue of 17 people, second one didn't work, just blank, third one had a pair of hands in it. You get quite a shock when you walk up to put your card in and suddenly there are a pair of hands the other side of the glass. It was a little like candid camera where that hand kept picking up the phone every time it rang. We both got a hell of a fright and then of course got the giggles. So off to the next one which again wasn't working. Finally we decided to skip the ATM run and go for the bank.

First one had a queue of 20 people, all with huge bags of money to deposit in front of us, next one was even worse and then at last we found one with only 5 other people in it. Finally it was our turn and we handed over our dollars. The very young little girl on the other side said, "ID please" Rouvierre handed over her ID book. She said that she wanted a copy of her ID book, so we said go ahead and make one, she said "the photocopy machine she is broke". By this time we start to see the comedy of the whole thing so Rouvierre asked her where are we supposed to get a copy from. She said there was a cafe over the road where we could get a copy. So off we went over the road which is presently under construction and it was like trying to cross a building site with piles of sand and half done tar, only to find that the photocopier over the road " she is broke also."

They sent us around to the back of the building where there was a little hole in the wall where a guy had a little shop. On the walls were all these posters saying God is great and you are so lucky to be alive today and guess what? He had a photocopy machine. So Rouvierre made three copies just I case and off we went back to the bank. The little girl behind the counter, with not a smile on her face started to fill in the forms (forms are very important here and are meticulously filled in) she then went off and spoke to someone else, came back again and said she couldn't find the necessary information off Rouvierre's ID doc. Then she decided she didn't need ID, she needed a passport. This was no longer a comedy it was turning into a tragedy. So off we went to Kobus who was patiently sitting in the car waiting for us, hauled him off to the "god bless you shop" and got a copy of his Passport (he had been clever enough to bring his) by now it was well past 11am and the others at the campsite had thought we had been mugged and high jacked.

So after lots of paperwork we eventually changed the money we needed and we were off back to the camp. The rest of the gang were waiting for us but getting quite anxious as we still had a fair distance to go to get to our next campsite inside Kafue. We set off to try and find the museum which gives the story of the Barotse planes and the Lozi people, a history that Ernest was very anxious to pass on. We were told it was 6 Km’s down the road but couldn't find it so gave up, a bit too quickly I think, but we figured we could just tell them the story and leave the museum for another time.

The story of the Barotse planes and the Lozi people is that every year sometime early in December when the rain from Angola comes down, the Zambezi breaks it’s banks and floods the whole plane. The King who lives on the planes in winter then decides when his subjects may move onto higher ground around Mongu. He has his drummers drum out the signal and then moves himself dressed in his British Admiral uniform in a boat rowed by 100 paddlers. A very majestic affair. Years ago when Rhodes was trying to annex Africa for the British Empire, he had presented the Lozi King with an Admirals uniform from the British Navy. Every new king since then has been presented with a new Admirals uniform by the Queen of England (or whatever monarch is on the thrown at the time). This sort of keeps a close alliance between the Lozi and the Brits. You can see each successive uniform on display in the museum, from the real ornate Nelson type uniform with the Nelson's tasseled hat down to what the admiral of the British Empire would wear today.

So, as I say we gave the Museum a miss and headed our noses towards Kafue. As always in Africa you never know what to expect, the roads so far have been excellent, even the dirt ones but this road was absolutely atrocious. It was so broken up and full of pot holes and bumps, the poor old truck literally took off two or three times. There were quite unexpected dips across the road which were difficult to see and we suddenly found ourselves sailing through the air.

I had not planned to stop for lunch as we should have been at Kafue at about two thirty so I thought we could just have a snack when we arrived and then an early dinner. However my husband kept on making remarks over the radio about how he enjoyed the great hamburgers at Mongu, “wise arse.” That of course got everyone thinking of their stomachs. Anyway the complaints about being hungry started to get quite loud by 3.30 so I eventually had to give up trying to make them all diet and we stopped on the side of the road for a snack. I always love watching these guys tuck into the food, large mounds of food literally disappear but then I suppose there are 6 very hungry men.

Eventually we arrived at the camp by 5pm, only to find that we were a day early and so couldn't get the camp site that we had book on the riverside, nevertheless they did fit us into a site a little back from the river which was also delightful. It is a really lovely place, great ablutions, a wonderful camp helper called Piza (like the Leaning Tower or the food) and a huge fire to make our evening special.