CONVOYS - A FAST LESSON
Due to the spate of attacks on members of the public in the recent past, officially laid at the feet of Angola's Unita guerilla army but with rumours that Namibian policemen may have taken advantage of being able to blame Unita, the trip through the Caprivi Game Park has to be done in convoy, with Namibian Defence Force escort.
Convoys leave twice a day - 9 am and 3 pm - from the bridge over the Kavango River at Bagani, just north of Popa Falls. We made our way to town at about 2.15 pm and were buying last-minute supplies when a cloudburst "dropped in". It pissed with rain, so hard we could hardly see through the windscreen even with the wipers doing double time.
Nervously, as this was our first convoy and we weren't sure what to expect, we got to the bridge about 10 minutes early, only to find that the procession had already left. We were waved through by the soldiers on guard, wisely sheltering in their office and not daring to brave the elements.
As we sped along at 100 km/h, wiping the inside of the windscreen every 5 minutes to clear away the condensation (we don't have a heater!) and not being able to open the windows because it was raining so hard, we saw the tailend of the convoy after about 15 minutes.
In addition to the clearing the windscreen, Lisa was having to move towels around and tighten quarter windows and things to stop all the drips that were finding their way through Wag 'n Bietjie's defences. Shortly after catching up to the convoy, we realised that our predicament wasn't that bad - the soldiers escorting the tail-end of the string of about 20 vehicles were sitting on the back of an open bakkie on benches that left their legs dangling over the sides of the pickup. Two of the poor buggers didn't even have raincoats! A miserable job.
When we stopped at the first regroup point, we discovered the guy behind us had even more problems: his windscreen wiper blade immediately in front of him had stopped working 5 minutes into the trip.
The next leg was a real challenge. The rain eased off and everybody sped up - so much so that we couldn't keep up and were left as the last, lone target chugging along as best we could, even hitting 115 km/h on some stretches. Lisa pointed out that at least we had a whole military patrol vehicles (complete with .50 calibre machinegun mounted over cab) to protect us if anything did go wrong!
To add to the tension of all this "war zone" stuff, halfway along this stretch the table on the side of the truck, despite being locked in the upright position, bounced open. There we were, bounding along at over 100 km/h with this table flapped down on one side side of Wag 'n B. Lisa had to crawl through to the back (we couldn't stop, so it's just as well we got our repacking right!) open the side window and lift the table back into position (against the force of the wind whistling down the side of the truck) and tie it in the upright position with some rope. And it was raining while she was doing this. She said she felt like a bit of a putz squeezing around the truck and fighting with the table while Tigger watched warily and the soldiers drove nearby, watching it all, no doubt with some amusement.
We fixed it at the next stop and the convoy also slowed down somewhat for the rest of the journey - which ended uneventfully - and we could proceed at a more sedate pace to Katima Mulilo along what is called - ironically, I hope - the Golden Highway. If the name isn't tongue-in-cheek I don't want to think about the rest of the roads in Africa!
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On the River Bank
Zambezi Lodge, Katima Mulilo: 15 December 2001
I'm back. This time it's from the banks of the Zambezi River at Katima Mulilo. We slept last night with the sound of this impressive river swallowing and rumbling in our ears, accompanied by a choir of frogs with bass accompaniment from the herd of hippos - Zambian ones: they don't come out on the Namibian side.
But back to Rundu - all this catching up to do and so little time! - and the two nights we spent there. Found a campsite with a view over the Kavango River into Angola. It always amazes me that country borders are such arbitrary things - what makes the people swimming near the north shore any different from those splashing on the southern banks?
The town is small and very rural - the OK Foods store and Spar both have a whole aisle devoted to 50 kg bags of flour, sugar and maize while at the Spar you can also pick up an 18kg gas bottle along with a litre of milk for breakfast.
We arrived quite knackered and after a swim (pools are almost a necessity at camp sites in Africa considering that the rivers are all either bilharzia-infested or us mzungus are too paranoid to risk the water. Tigger enjoyed it though!) we headed in to town to buy some food before having an early dinner and disappearing for the night.
The following morning we headed into town to find the State Vet, Dr Alexander Toto, to whom we had been referred by somebody we'd met at Outjo. Flevi and Yann are French with Yann working in Windhoek and Flevi doing veterinary research work up near Oshivelo - a serious distance to commute to see each other. Flevi was really helpful with info on disorders that do or don't affect Tigger and offered to call Alexander to say we were coming to see him.
When we got to the State Vet's offices, Alexander was out but he arrived just as we were leaving. He was expecting us (thanks, Flevi!) and got on the phone once we'd explained the situation, calling his head office to get a number and name for someone in Lusaka, then calling them and holding on interminably while they tried to find the right person. Eventually he resolved everything and told us all we have to do is get the movement permit we got in South Africa authorised once in Zambia. The other bonus is that the permit is also valid in Malawi.
My education regarding people's willingness to help is undergoing something of a geoseismic shift, with the expectations that became so ingrained in Gauteng being rapidly dispelled by the people we've met. It's a really nice feeling being proved wrong so often by such generous strangers.
We also got chatting to the only other inhabitants of the campsite, a couple from Switzerland who have spent the last year with their butts on bicycle saddles, cycling from Zurich through Europe to Morocco, then down the west coast to Mauritania and across the desert, ending up staying with a South Africa family in Accra before flying to Windhoek and riding around there for three months. Alex and Sandra say they may now take a break from cycling and work for a while!
We had just stopped to say hello to each other on the way to and from the loo but ended up sitting and chatting for about two hours. They were going on to another campsite further east ("It's only 14km - a very short ride, even with the 60 kg of luggage and the extra food we've just bought!") but changed their minds and cooked us a sumptuous dinner later that evening, with fresh vegetables, meat and salad, with fruit salad and custard for dessert, that evening.
For us the meal was a delight but for them, being able to use our two-burner stove, breadboard, a knife larger than the Swiss Army knife they carry, herbs and spices and a table to prepare everything on was the highlight of the meal.
Understandably, considering that riding 100 km a day is nothing extraordinary for them and that the most they've ridden in one day - with all their luggage in tow - is a little over 220 km ("We had a good tailwind and were worried it might change," said Sandra) through the Sahara, they eat like horses and we had to give up a third of the way through the meal and watch in amazement.
We yacked until midnight and then stumbled off to bed with our bloated stomachs. When I bumbled off to the loo (a common meeting place, it seems!) the next morning, Alex was heading in the same direction, looking like I felt.
A quite drive later, we arrived at Popa Falls and the campsite alongside the falls themselves. From the deserts of the south, the change in the weather and vegetation along the Caprivi Strip is incredible and everything is very verdant and lush, even though the soil looks bleak and nutrient poor.
Five minutes after unpacking the truck - so that we could reorganise things once again - it started raining and crates, stove and everything else got splashed with sand and dirt. Once the storm had stopped things didn't dry up but stayed drippy and humid.
Still, we went for a wander round the falls, coming across what is obviously an otter's favourite eating place, with crab carapace-filled scats all over the place and crab pincers strewn around the rocks. Didn't see the otter though.
From there it was on to Katima Mulilo - a journey worthy of its own section, so see alongside. From here we're off to find the best road into Zambia and the tourist centre of Livingstone.
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