zambia

What could be more fun than a 48 hour train ride?  Lots.

From Harare, Zimbabwe, we had a 10 hour bus ride to get to our next destination...Lusaka, Zambia.  During our ride, we were stopped several (6?) times by road blocks (aka police trying to get bribes from people to pad their wallets).  Since we only stopped for ONE bathroom break, there was a woman who got out during one of the police stops in order to go into the bushes and relieve herself.  Not only did she get fined $20 dollars for doing it, but since she opened her mouth to explain what happened she also got fined an additional $20 for "being disrespectful."  Pathetic.

After a short stay in the nice and small capital of Lusaka, we took another short bus ride to Kapiri Mposhi where we stayed at the worst hotel we've been in yet.  Our room smelled so strongly of mold I could barely handle sitting in it for more than 5 minutes a a time.  Luckily we discovered the rug was soaked, so we were moved into a slightly more tolerable room.  The bedding was badly worn and stained, hardly any water coming out of the bathtub, and a toilet that barely flushed.  I was very grateful we only had to stay there one night.  We went to Kapiri Mposhi in order to get on a train that would take us straight to Dar Es Salaam, over a 48 hour period.  I was freaked out about getting on a train (period) after our last train experience, not to mention 48 hours long...at the shortest.

Guy and I had wandered around the train station, waiting for some sort of action to occur, given it was a few minutes past 2:00 pm (the time of our supposed departure) and hardly a passenger had boarded.  On the train we were boarding, the TAZARA, there were 3 types of accommodations: coaches with four beds (1st class), coaches with six beds, or sitting room only (nightmare class).  The compartments were usually only male or female, but the woman who sold us tickets for the train in Lusaka said there was only one remaining male compartment, with one male in it, his wife assigned to the female compartment.  She told us to find this couple and inform them that the four of us could share as a "family."  Fine by me, but would there be problems when we boarded, given that all we were given were puny tickets you'd get at Chucky Cheese and certainly no computer records to check?!  Would this couple even believe us?

So, at about 2:15, we begin boarding, looking out for the "mzungu" (foreigners) when we spot an older couple headed towards our car.  Guy hears them exchange words with one another and chimes in with a brief Russian phrase.  They respond, and it turns out they are the "mzungu" we are looking for.  As we step up, Guy turns to me with light in his eyes and beams "They're Russian!"  They both join us in our coach, no questions asked and here we find out they are in fact from Ukraine - even better, as far as Guy is concerned.  At this point Guy is visibly giddy (he spent time in Ukraine in the Peace Corp and is obsessed with Russian culture) while all I'm thinking is, when can I get off the train?

While we get settled in our temporary home, we discover our travel mates actually live in Zambia as doctors and have been here for about six years.  While they speak English, they much prefer to speak Russian, which is understandable, as it is their native language.  Two hours passed before the train actually began moving.  Our car was a little nicer (and cleaner) than our previous train ride in Zimbabwe.  But "First class" is taking it too far, if you ask me.

Just as I began to relax into this whole long train ride idea, the train stopped, for no apparent reason.  We had been moving only two hours.  After what felt like an eternity, someone finally informed us that a new engine/locomotive was being retrieved.  How far away was it coming from?  Anywhere from 2-10 hours away, no one could tell us a straight answer.

At this point, I could feel my heart starting to race.  A man passed by announcing it would be 16 hours before we left from nowhere land (albeit he was drunk, and possibly unreliable, or so I hoped). Our attendant couldn't answer any of our questions, but tried to appease us with dinner.  At least the food was decent, yet simple - chicken and rice.  Our bunk mates decided to try and get some sleep and we tried to follow suite before 9 pm.  The many people who were in the lounge car were getting drunk (oh, did I forget to mention that was right next to us?) and increasingly loud and rowdy.  The stench from the toilet next to us was getting unbearable as all the waste dropped directly on the tracks and wafted into our window...and we hadn't moved for three hours (at this point).  As I lay in my bed trying to keep myself from panicking about the whole situation, the electricity went out.  All of it.  Pitch black everywhere.  As drunk people knocked on the door and all three of my bunk mates loudly snored, I shoved my earplugs as far as I could into head to try and drown out the noise.  I prayed for the train to move, or morning to come.



Still rattled from the night before and sleep deprived I tried to ignore the incessant chatting of my travel companions and look out the window to enjoy the scenery.  We passed many small villages and each one, several small children would be there, waiting for the train, sometimes merely waving and smiling, others dancing, many yelling for money...for anything.  As the chattering continued, I felt like the walls were coming in one me.  How am I going to share this small space, and not get any peace or sleep for 2...no 3 days?!  As a person who needs time alone and quiet to function, I didn't see how I was going to get through this experience.

Guy read my need to escape and suggested we go play cards in the lounge car for awhile.  We do, and it helps.  I read my book for awhile and that helps too.  The train is still moving.  The day is almost done.  I start to relax.  As I lay in my bed looking out the window, I witness a beautiful sunset.  It looks like a moveable, framed work of art.  I finally surrender to the train (I think it was mostly exhaustion).

I head to bed knowing we have yet to pass the border, fully expecting to be woken up in the middle of the night.  I also expect to get no sleep.  Apparently, I did drift off at some point, as I woke to a man hovering over me with a headlamp shining in my face, asking for passports.  Luckily, Guy had suggested we get our visas for Tanzania in Zambia, so it only took a minute to get stamped.  By a miracle of God I then rolled over and went to sleep, while other people came to our door to change money, etc.  I was exhausted.  Sunday morning I woke up to a jovial woman telling us that we were now at the HALFWAY mark, and would arrive in Dar Es Salaam in 24 hours.  We were supposed to be there in 6.  I wasn't even certain we would get there THAT quickly.

We certainly weren't on Amtrak, or some luxury train.  This was rugged travel.  But Sunday was different for me, as I finally just took things as they came, read my book and decided not to worry anymore.  Traveling in Africa forces you to abandon timelines or planning ahead too far.  And before I came to Africa, I didn't consider myself a stickler for time or really worried about schedules (insert mother's knowing laughter here).  Despite that, my American sense of time has shown through, and Africa has begged me to learn patience, flexibility and living in the moment more than any other place I've been.  I also thought I had mastered the art of reflection, but been put to the test with hours at a time with nothing but a window to look out - no books, TVs, or gadgets to fiddle with. The children here amaze me with their ability to be calm for hours, with no toys dangled over their heads or nooks shoved in their mouths.  These amazing mothers strap their babies on their backs at all times and the children are always with their families.  I can't help but think these African women really have something to teach Westerners about babies.

The final confession is the one that's been hardest for me to come to grips with on this journey.  I used to think that I could deal with any type of living accommodations, that I was hardy and humble enough to withstand any conditions.  Sadly, I have come to grips with my desire for comfort, and I long for my plush bed sitting in storage.  But, I digress...

As much as the overly chatty Ukrainian drove me crazy, she was very kind to us, insisting we eat their food, making little book markers for us, teaching us a card game and sassily demanding boiled water with every meal...but handing little treats and gifts to everyone she made requests of.  He blunt boldness was most amusing is we ever got a stranger at our door - a flat "What do you want" was all she would utter.

When all was said and done, the train ride took about 65 hours; 17 hours longer than it was supposed to.  I practically sprang from the car to get out, thankful to finally arrive at our destination of Dar Es Salaam.  Guy tells me that the trains in Eastern Europe are better.  I sure hope he's right.

zimbabwe - hwange, vic falls & matopos

I think my sister has had the chance to see what our traveling experience entails.  Some amazing, great moments, as well as incredibly frustrating moments!

Amy's flight was delayed 24 hours, leaving her in Ethiopia for a night, while we anxiously awaited her arrival.  Luckily, she had an ok experience there, and nothing traumatic happened to keep her there.  Our lovely hosts that we were staying with in Harare not only drove us to the airport twice (which, if we took a taxi would have cost us $100 total!) but insisted that we have my sister stay with them as well...feeding us a delicious Indian dinner.

The following day, the three of us hopped onto the Citylink bus towards Hwange, where we would be staying at Miombo lodge and doing a safari the next day.  Its a bit unfortunate that its so difficult getting to any of the national parks in Zimbabwe, as no public transportation will bring you to any of them!  Our bus essentially dropped us off at a hotel in the middle of nowhere, and our lodge had to send a driver to pick us up from there for another 45 minute drive.

Once we arrived at our lodge, however, we were very pleased.  We were surrounded by bush, and found out we were the only guests staying there, which was both nice for us (quiet), but sad to think their business didn't seem to be doing very well.  Our accomodations were simple but nice, and the staff was incredibly nice and hospitable to us.  We had all of our meals cooked for us (which we really didn't have a choice about, since there was no where else to purchase food or cook it!), and ate very well.

After a relaxing evening, we woke up the next day to do our safari in Hwange National Park.  This park is the largest and oldest in Zimbabwe, hosts 108 mammal species and one of the largest elephant populations in the world!  Our incredibly knowledgeable guide Steven picked us up at our lodge in the morning, and we were on our way.  When we started the drive, we saw a few antelope, and not much else.  I was a little concerned that we might not see a whole lot, especially considering the bush was thick (making it difficult to see animals) due to the current wet season.  Luckily, things turned around and we were able to see: giraffes, wildebeest, impala, zebras, baboons, warthogs, tortoises, many interesting birds.  Perhaps the most exciting was when we saw an entire herd of elephants cross the road right in front of us!  It was a bit frightening as a large elephant was just few from us at one point, but it was an incredible experience and we got some great photos.  We didn't see an lions on our safari, but spotted one the previous day with our taxi driver.

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We were sad to leave our lone paradise in Hwange, but ready to move on to Victoria Falls.  Our taxi driver drove us to where the bus had originally dropped us a few days ago, where we were prepared to take a bus a few hours to our next destination.  When we arrived there, we were promptly informed that our bus was running four hours late.  As I mentioned before, we were at a hotel in the middle of nowhere, so we got out our books and cards, and were prepared to wait six hours for our bus.  At 10:00 pm, we were starting to panic that our bus wasn't going to come get us, and perhaps the bus ride was cancelled (and the buses don't run every day, so we didn't know when we'd be able to get out!).  We tried to call the bus company, but of course no one answered (as no one seems to at any business we ever try calling).  The hotel owner told us we would need to get a room in just minutes as they were closing reception for the night.  The security guard allowed us to stay out a few more minutes, when low and behold, the bus showed up.  We arrived in Vic Falls at 2:00 am, falling into our beds from a long day of waiting.

The next morning we awoke rather early from the loud noise of the television coming from outside.  As we woke up in our steamy 10 ft x 6 ft dorm room we went out to explore our new home for the next four days, as we couldn't see anything in the dead of night.  Shoestrings hostel was recommended to us by a few people we've met in Africa and many people online.  It is a rather large complex with a restaurant, pool, several dorms and private rooms and very popular bar.  It also has loud music pumping about 17 hours a day.  As I am not 18 years old or an alcoholic I was slightly underwhelmed by the place.  The fourth person in our dorm perhaps was an alcoholic as he was drinking almost every time we saw him and we paid the price at night by listening to his incessant snoring.

Not all was bad for our Victoria Falls Christmas experience, however.  We spent the 24th actually at Victoria Falls, which were spectacular.  We had recently visited Iguazu Falls in Argentina and Niagara Falls in New York, and Victoria Falls certainly did not disappoint in comparison!  "Sista Claus" (later referred to as "Sista Nurse" for rescuing us with Pepto and Advil) as we affectionately called her, saved us by bringing many of the things we lost in the robbery and couldn't find in Africa.  We enjoyed a traditional African dance show (of which I got pulled up to embarrass myself by learning a dance) and on Christmas Eve got to see the "Tin Can Kids" perform, as well as do candlelight caroling and see a fire dancer perform.  The Tin Can Kids were a joy to watch, and incredibly entertaining.  As listed in the changemakers website, "The Tin Can Kids are a young talented group of children ages 5-12 who were found under a tree in the township areas of Victoria Falls playing the most amazing drums off junk, the most inspiring thing about them, they learnt how to create music all by themselves. Their equipment consists of items like car springs, the back of a T.V set, broken pots , empty buckets and other scrap material." (www.changemakers.com).   Even though my family wasn't together for the holidays, we were all able to chat, which was a wonderful gift for me.

 

On Christmas Day we had a fairly relaxing day where we had a Christmas lunch made by Eddy, the chef, who was a dear man eager to please us, as we were the only people in the hostel who purchased the Christmas lunch.  We also were treated to hour long massages by Guy (he paid for them, he didn't actually give them!) for $20 a piece!  Finally, a bargain in Zimbabwe!!  It was fantastic, and Amy even had her massage given to her by a mother with an infant strapped to her back (as many women do in any job they have).

That day we also ventured out to the curio market, where we were going to check out local crafts.  We were mauled.  It was a very overwhelming experience, to say the least.  As we were walking the path to get to the market, several men appeared, offering to "take" us there (even though we clearly knew where to go and there were signs).  One man kept telling us over and over "hakuna matata" (which means "no worries" in Swahili)..."don't worry...hakuna matata."  My sister's response: "We won't forget, how could we EVER forget?"  We were really wondering what in the world the motivation was of these men to "take" us there, perhaps to get a cut from the shop owners if we were to buy something?  Strange.  Once we actually arrived at the market, there was a second wave of being overwhelmed.  Perhaps 30 small shops were all lined us with beautiful hand-made items, each with a shop owner, eager and waiting to greet us.  All of them wanted us to buy something, ANYTHING, and many of them wanted us to trade something (especially Guy's football jersey).  As there was constant pressure to buy and no time to think, we just tried to make it out alive!  We left empty handed, as we just couldn't bring ourselves to buy from one man and leave all of the others hanging.  Once we left, we talked a lot about how grim their situations must be.  It is hard to imagine that these men are able to make a real living from what they do, there was a huge lack of tourists there, and its a shame that the beautiful crafts they make can't be led to the hands that could pay for them.  It was certainly a sobering experience.
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Moving on from Victoria Falls, we headed on the bus back to Bulawayo, where we stayed at our "luxurious hotel" as Amy called it, and it certainly was, considering the place we came from.  Our big attraction in Bulawayo was to go on a tour/safari of Matopos National Park.  We were told we were pretty much guaranteed to see rhinos and hippos, but apparently we were part of the 3% that didn't see rhinos.  We heard from a guard that there was a poacher in the park that supposedly frightened the hippos deep into the park.  Who knows.  What we do know is that if you are a poacher (or even outside of your car, as posted by a sign), you will shot on sight by a guard.  There's no messing around here.  We did see some hippos (from the comfort of our vehicle of course) however, and I only wish we could have watched them longer, seeing that we didn't come across many more animals on our journey (other than a few giraffes).  The scenery was beautiful, though, with granite hills and amazing balancing rocks.  Also worth the trip was viewing the ancient San (Bushmen) cave paintings.  Our tour guide was great, as well as our driver, and anxious to chat with us about American culture, leading with the question, "is American wrestling (as seen on TV) really real??"  At the end of our tour they took us to the "real" Bulawayo (the "ghetto" as they called it) to see how many other people live there. 

Our final stop in Zimbabwe was to head back to Harare, where we stayed just outside of the city right next to a quiet game park. For the most part it was quiet and I'm pretty sure we were the only guests staying there.  Lazarus, our cook, took special care of us and made us some very delicious meals that I already miss.  Our New Year's Eve celebration was pretty tame, consisting of the three of us drinking a bottle of champagne and going to bed at 10:00!  (The music was pumping outside until 5:30 am, however).  The next day we headed to the airport with our driver and hostel owner, who carted us local style...in the back of his pickup.  I was incredibly sad to have my sister heading home, and now that she's gone, it feels almost like a dream that she was even here!