Kariba to Siavonga

Wednesday, 12th February

The previous night as I sat at the bar-shack eating some stew and sadza (mealy meal), a huge storm blew in which cut out all electricity and phone signal. I was very glad I had packed a torch as the other two guys didn't seem to have one! The lack of light also meant I had a second rather close encounter with a hippo which sent me scurrying behind the bar to take cover, only to discover the two workers had disappeared off somewhere. Whether or not they had any actual wildlife knowledge, I didn't quite feel ready to tackle a hippo on my own, so sat it out behind the bar until they returned.

With thunder and lightening raging overhead and a strong wind blowing in off the lake, I asked if I was safe in my tent since I was surrounded by trees. There was some debate as to whether the tent was actually waterproof or not, but both of them agreed that the trees were the best bet to "hide from the lightening". Right. With nowhere else to go other than a shack that seemed a little too open to the local fauna, I experienced my first African thunderstorm alone in a tent. I could hear elephants trumpeting and zebra whinnying as they ran through the camp, clearly spooked by the storm, but fairly quickly it passed and we just had a downpour of rain. I quickly fell asleep, knocked out by the fresh African air.

In the early morning when I woke up there was still no electricity or phone signal, so with no way to call anyone in town to give me a lift I concluded there was only one way to get to the Zambian border to where the family I was staying with were: walk it. Despite being fully aware that elephants, buffalo, hyenas and lions regularly frequented the road (and the fact that a small white mzungu girl carrying a large rucksack stuck out like a sore thumb), the walk was incredible. The warm, humid air carried a cool breeze as I walked along the mountainside road with a breathtaking view over the lake. I stopped a couple of times to watch a mongeese family and baboon troop cross the road in front of me, both complete with several babies.

After about 8km, a man called Zayn picked me up, probably wondering what on Earth I was doing. As luck would have it (and I'm sure someone was looking after me up there) he was heading to the border too to pick up a couple of people who had been staying with friends of the family I was to be staying with. He was extraordinarily friendly, as all Zimbabweans are, and called his friend, Peter, to arrange a lift for me back to Siavonga, the town on the Zambian side of the border. Peter helped me through the Zambian bureaucracy (notably more faffy than the Zim side) and gave me a quick intro to the family I would be staying with. I also got my first view of Kariba Dam, which you have to drive over to cross the border. It was incredible, and knowing my grandparents had stood there about 60 years ago on their first holiday together made it even more special.

When I arrived at Eagles Rest (the lodge which the family lived in and managed) I was given a warm welcome by the three boys, Sammy (15), Elijah (10) and Lewis (5), and was immediately initiated into their competitive board games. Tom, the father, took me for a quick trip into Siavonga to show me the town. There is no exact way of describing it, but everything seems more alive in Zambia than in Zimbabwe. It is still an extremely poor nation, but the Zambian kwacha is more stable than the Zimbabwean bond so the people have slightly more hope economically. The colours and smells were so vivid; suddenly the stories of this continent that my grandma had told me as I grew up came alive all at once.

After lunch, Elijah and Lewis took me exploring around the neighbourhood. Despite me being a bit apprehensive at first at the prospect of bare feet in the long grass (I couldn't possibly be allowed to put on shoes as that would be very wimpy) it reminded me exactly of mine and Sammy's childhood summers in the West Indies. After an afternoon of running around and swimming, I tumbled into bed, grateful I had arrived at my home for the next few weeks.

my walk to the border