Saturday, September 3, 2011

African Road Trip: Finale

At this point, we're still in Kasane. We've had two flat tires, but have gotten them repaired and are ready for our 8 hour drive back to Maun. We have food (which the staff took every last bit of), beer and good (well, adequate) company. Though we're driving through the parks, we aren't able to stop to see anything, since we're so short on time- we lost hours dealing with the two tires.

After a few hours on the rough road, I hear another rhythmic hiss-hiss-hiss. I sigh to myself and look down. Yes, another flat tire. Just as before, it's really flat, not just low. I look over at Geoff and say, half laughing- "We have another flat tire." His face lights up and he laughs. We stop and go through the whole drill again- out of the truck, hoist it up.... We chuckle with each other- I mean, what are the odds? Three flat tires in one day? We wearily get back into the truck- it's getting dark and we have several hours ahead of us. I've never seen Dennis drive this fast- he's worried about getting to the gates by closing time, or else they won't let us out. When we get there, he gets out and talks to some guy, who later comes by our truck and we have to cleverly pass him some beers. It's a bribe, to let us out, AND to let us back into the other park, where we need to be to get to the next leg of our journey.

More driving, and the sun is down, so we're freezing. We're each wrapped up in a blanket and the chatter has ceased. It feels like we've been on a non-stop rocket launch for 6 hours, just constant shaking and noise. We enter the next park, via our bribes, and though I'm told I can use the facilities, what that turns out to mean, is that I can squat behind the trailer. In for a penny in for a pound, aye? Of course the moon is damned near full, and with my knee, I can't really squat. Luckily I'm good at this (why?). Only two pictures were taken of this evening, so I've taken some liberties with this blog entry- fair warning.

It's dark, we're flying through the park and scare some elephants, which trumpet at us. Dennis abruptly slows down a little later, and we see that there's a pride of lions in the road. He's trying to creep past them, but they are active and very interested in our passing- recall, we're in an open-air truck, so if they want in, they're getting in.

Not 5 minutes after passing these lions, I hear a funny thumping sound. I know exactly what it is, but refuse to look down. There's no way it can be another flat tire, it just can't be. It gets louder. Can no one else hear this? I relent, and peer down. Sure enough, flat tire #4. I look at Geoff and he stares back, waiting to hear what I'm going to say. "It's flat." He can't hear me, so I repeat. "It's FLAT." His face lights up again, but it's not accompanied with laughter this time. Can-do tells Dennis and we stop. They talk to each other in Batswanan, but no one gets out of the truck. There is some sort of discussion while Geoff and I sit there like school-kids waiting for their parents to decide what's for dinner, then Dennis starts driving again. We look at each other and shrug. I say, "I guess we're just going to keep going."

After a while, we pass a white bridge over a river, and are on more compacted roads. We pull into a village and Dennis gets out. He tells us not to "panic" and that he and Can-do would go now to find the Chief of the village to get permission for us to stay there. They would then walk ahead to see if they could get phone reception to arrange for a "rescue." The cook's assistant was to stay behind with us.

Geoff's reaction to this situation was to laugh uncontrollably. I, though not fearful in any way of what was to happen, was not as amused. I was freezing, and with my leg, highly uncomfortable with the just standing around, waiting. It was after midnight and we were stranded.

A woman from the village walked by and asked what happened. Her accent was thick, but she did speak English (this never fails to impress me). We told her, and she said how thankful we should be that we were able to get past the river, because the lions before that point were so bad. We look at each other. "Ahhh, that's why Dennis wouldn't stop." He was getting us past the lions, lest we be attacked in our vulnerable positions.

People come and go, wanting to see what's going on and there's talk of tires being around, but alas, none are. A while later, a truck passes, and inquires about our status. It's suggested that the cook's assistant ride with him, as he'd reach an area with cell reception faster than Dennis and Can-do would, just walking. So, she gathers her KFC and beers, and gets into the strangers truck and leaves in the night.

Dennis returns and tells us we've gotten permission to stay, but that it'll be hours and hours, so we should set up our tent and just go to sleep. My leg is killing me, so I'm happy to do so. I've done my best to recreate the situation. The village had more modern structures made from some kind of bricks, but I couldn't find a suitable image of that.


We nap for a few hours until a truck from Maun reaches us with a new tire. We're put, with our blankets into the back of the new, covered truck and our caravan heads off into the night, back to Maun. The truck is heated, which is very nice, VERY nice, and we nap some more. We arrive in Maun around 5am, and Dennis finds us a nice (terrible) hostile. We say our goodbyes and retreat to our room. I'm tired, but want nothing more than a shower. I have 10 days of filth on me and want it off. Geoff, having made friends with his flies, goes right to bed.
I turn the water on and it's nice and hot. I get in, and the water starts to pour down my head and I start to exhale, a sigh of relief, when the water and lights shut off. Power is out. FUCK. My hair isn't even rinsed, just a splash of water, so now I'm muddy AND grumpy. I go to bed.

We have to check out in just a few hours, as there's no exceptions for our ridiculously late check-in. We're able to flag down a passing taxi, or a car with a man willing to take us somewhere for money, anyway, and get to the place where the beetle is. They've fixed it, and I again paid out. Once more we are on the road, toward Serowee, where we're told there is a rhino sanctuary (the one animal of the "big 5" we've not seen.

We get to the town and track down the apparently only lodge, which is atop a huge hill, with caution "drive through the wilderness at your own risk" signs all over the place. It's a fancier place than is needed, but again, we're beggars. Showers are first on the agenda....but there's no hot water. We're tired, and decide to deal with it in the morning. In the morning there's no power. Again, the whole town is shut down (TIA). We do get bumped to another room to shower though, so my 11 days filth are finally removed and I feel a whole lot better. While I wait hours for chatty Kathy to finish sweet talking every local in sight, then take his characteristically long shower, I talk to the owner. He also had a beetle in his youth, and lost his virginity in it. In between making remarks about showering with me to passers by, he tells us that frankly, it's too cloudy and windy to see rhinos at the sanctuary, and if that was our main attraction, we'd better just skip it. Sigh, oh well.

We press on, towards the border of Botswana and South Africa, and hope to pass it before dark so we can find a place to stay. We're yet again on the side of the road, filling oil, when a woman pulls up.

I walked over to her, full well knowing she was going to ask if we were alright, where we were from, where we were going, etc. After we got through that, she said that since we didn’t have a place we planned to stay for the night, that we should just come home with her. We look at each other and shrug, too tired to ask any questions. “Ok.” She refuses to let us give her money, and we follow her as best we can (we fail to mention to her our speed limitations).

She pulls off onto a dirt driveway so long, that we feel like we’re back in the desert. We comment to each other that we could be compounding all of our stupid decisions in this moment, as no one knows what country we’re in, let alone that we’ve taken this detour with this stranger. The property opens up, and we see lots of pens with goats, sheep and cattle and we realize we’re on a big farm. There are dogs of all shapes and sized running and barking all over the place and she shows us to a bachelors flat where we will stay. The main house is amazing- this picture is the best I could find that looked like it (it was taller). While we're thrilled to not only have a place to stay for the night, but a place with a shower to boot, there's a lot of death around. Beside the flat, there's a large cemented patio area with a large tree in the middle. From the tree is hanging a headless carcass of some kind. She tells us it's hanging there to cool. At the kitchen door, there's also fillets of spiced flesh drying. I wonder out loud to Geoff if those fillets were the previous night’s charity case.

It is her Dad’s farm, and she lives on the other side of the property with her husband and kids. While I adoringly share my tea with their African Grey Parrot, her father proudly broke out his photo albums from his visit to the US in the 80’s. Turns out, he was a South African farmer, who left for Botswana during the political upheaval for fear of violence (there was a political movement by some radical black groups to kill white farmers- and they did kill a lot of them, so his fears were understandable).

There were lots of kids too, but they were probably the most well-behaved kids I've ever seen. Their spirits weren't broken, but they were mostly quiet and played amongst themselves. We ate a lovingly prepared meal with them then ran back to our flat, pushing each other out of the way to be the first to reach the shower. In the morning, they even made us a hearty South-African farmer’s breakfast of steak (mutton, pork or beef) and pap. With heavy hearts and bellies, we left- getting lost only once on their property.

We get past the border of South Africa, and are immediately bored with the landscape. There

are some mining piles of this/that, but really, there's nothing interesting to look at, so we play "20 Questions," which Geoff somehow, has never played. He's terrible at it. What kind of a nit-wit uses his 20th question to ask: "Is it blue?" We stop in Kimberley, then some other little town the following night and roll into Stellenbosch the evening before classes start. I have no idea when/where my classes are. I never thought I'd be happy to see Concordia (housing), but I was.

In the end, the trip was about 4,888 km's (just over 3,000 miles) and we had been gone 30 days. I have never spent that much time with someone (other than family, and even then you can retreat to your room or leave the house), nor have I had a vacation that has lasted that long but I had an amazing time and would do it again, in a heartbeat. I thought my year here, just doing daily activities would be a highlight of my life. Then, I thought the safari would be it- but in retrospect, it was the road-trip itself that is what I'll remember the most. If we didn't have that shitty little beetle, it wouldn't have been the experience it was.

Oh, while I'm manufacturing pictures, this is Geoff, dancing around a deserted campsite in Ghanzi, our first stop in Botswana. He had just showered and was dancing around in his ridiculous pink towel singing. I couldn't get to my camera fast enough, but it's seared into my memory.


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