Africa

The Odd Couple and Their Family Take a Road Trip in North Zambia

3: The Story Continued

Our unintended venture into the Congo forced us to go back early and Fort
Elwes was never reached. After a drive-by (photo) shooting  through the
small villages we set for the striking beauty of Kundalila Falls.  The side
of the road  was piled up by what looked  like abandoned fruit and veggies stalls, but as the car drew near traders emerged from the high grass, wildly waving their arms  like madmen. There was  no need to get out of the car to buy something, because as we stopped we were waited on like at the drive-inn.

After several stops,  and  loading up on some charcoal as well,  we drove
further on to our first bush camp: A lovely spot above the falls with not a
soul in sight. Except for the caretaker who followed us on his bike from the
road. Since the falls were regarded as a National Monument, of course we had
to pay. And since we were foreigners we had to pay $10 each according to the
official papers that were shoved under our noses. Which is a ridiculous
amount for a bush camp with only a drop toilet.  Three dollars was more likely and basically really all that we could afford. This was made very clear to the
caretaker by Marilyn, who was left to do the dirty work of bargaining. Peter and Joost were already climbing  rocks trying to catch the sunset . Joost had silently declared himself fire starter. That he looked like a demented Dutch windmill didn't seem to be of any disturbance  to him. That I was checking out his butt while he was bending over, and that it was not only the charcoal that was getting heated up, i guess, up till now, he never knew. For the rest of the trip he was lighting fires with great passion thinking we let him because he was so good at it. As things got hot,  Marilyn and Peter prepared another lovely meal and with Kundalila  Falls still out of sight, but not out of ear range, we closed the curtains and fell asleep to the sounds of the falls in the background. At the break of day, after a good breakfast, Peder and I wandered off taking pictures and descended along a steep path through the forest, to finally find a crystal-clear pool lying at the bottom of Kundalila Falls, looking up at the 65 meter drop. This was a private paradise and with an ecstatic leap we jumped in. A bit later we were followed by Joost and Marilyn and after a couple of hours splashing around and walking down the river my friends went back and I had a revitalizing time taking off my  bikini  and going for the real paradise experience. Adam and Eve, my favorite celebrity couple. Too bad Adam was nowhere to be found. Kundalila was good and I could have stayed there forever, but that was not only my choice to make. Thus off we went to Kasanka National Park. While on our way we plundered a tiny village of their weekly food supply. We took all the bread and all the eggs, we got mountains of potatoes, tomatoes, oranges, guava, and nuts.

As I am a sucker for wildlife in any of it's form, I got very excited by the
news of the wildlife patrol guard about the creatures great and small we
would encounter on entering the park. So with great hopes and thriving
enthusiasm we paid up the National Park fee and went in. After camp duties we were ready to spot some game. Joost took to the wheel and the rest kept our eyes peered on the dense bush. In full commando mode he rushed our big white Nissan pick-up over the very bad dirt road to go and watch the approaching sunset at the nearby, but sadly enough not signposted, Fibwe hide. Until, suddenly, we found ourselves in high grass and what seemed to
look like wet soil, also known by the name of wetland or swamp. Since we didn't have 4x4, backing up seemed like the most sensible option. But let me tell you this now, no matter who much you would like it, never let a Dutchman (back) up your alley, he'll slip and get himself stuck... The car slid off the tracks and into a 45 degree angle.  This is were it stayed,   despite Joost's fruitless attempts of reversing his reverse mistake. It could have happened to any of us, but I think his adolescent ego, for a brief moment,  had also taken a minor slide.

We decided to walk back and get help. As it was getting dark, I headed off
like a freight train leaving the others with no alternative than to follow
me. Since we didn't know how long it would take us and what( or if
something) was watching us from the bush,  it was better to stick together.
Roughly 1.5 hours later and in pitch black darkness we reached camp and
informed our night guard of the little problem. The main camp was not
answering their radio so help would have to wait till the next day. No
worries, was it not that in our hurry we had left all our food in the
car and we so happened to be very very hungry. Marilyn and I approved of us
staying by the camp while our teenage fan club walked all the way back to the
car, escorted by the guard. Somehow we still managed to create a decent meal
and had some crucial laughs about the day.

By the time Igot out of my tent, Joost had already gone back and the car
had been pulled out of the swamp.  Marilyn had prepared breakfast and I just
had to eat it. We drove around looking for big herds of animals.  but all we discovered was clouds of tsetse flying in and around our car viciously predating on the four of us. It soon drove us mad and exterminating them became an athletic discipline with shoes flying round and books soaring through the air.

But no stunning beasts were about the place, at least none that we could
see. The bush was too dense and the grass to high, so in no time we gave up
and went for a drink in one of the lodges. There it was that we encountered
Birding Bob, the most famous twitchier (bird watcher) of Southern Africa.
Yeah! And we twitched for while and I got quite into it. I must try this at
home.

The beautiful Fibwe hide was set in the top of a magnificent mululu tree.
Build 18 meters above the ground, and on a platform it supported us, overlooking
the grassland, searching for sitatungas, watching the sunset and the next morning's sunrise. After that first light we decided we had enough and moved on yet again.

By the time we left Kasanka it was Saturday. And Saturday sounded like a
good day for visiting caves. Besides we seemed to have all the time in the
world, since we left the park pretty close after daybreak and our next stop
was only about 400 kilometers away. Hence a little sidetracking along the road didn't look like a bad idea. But on a dirt road no distance seems to be little or
short. And, as history had proven, sense of direction did not seem to be
our expertise and after about an hour we were still looking for
Bushmen rock paintings which were to be admired at Nsalu cave.

The cave lurked on us from a short but draining climb in the boiling midday
sun, before awing us with it's size, but more so with the view over the
surrounding countryside. We signed our names in the guestbook two little local
boys proudly presented to us and gave them a stupendous 10.000kw (about
2usd) for our visit. Driving back to find the main road, we bumped upon the caretaker of the caves. Apparently the man was in great distress, although he was extremely glad to see us. He'd just gotten back from a days travel to see the local witch doctor. The story went that his father had murdered his mother when he was young and then had bewitched him for telling on him and now his pour soul was tormented by the ghost of his mother who came to visit him in his dreams almost every night. That is about all i could understand. He said a lot of other awkward things in between. Caught up in his hocus pocus he nearly forgot to ask for money. Which was still his job and in the end he did and we assured him our fees were already well paid for to the 2 boys. Very well then, all he needed now was our addresses so we could stay in touch. Marilyn, Joost and I simultaneously looked at Peder who had been giving out name cards. He  refused to write down his name with pen on paper. Apparently the caretaker was not the only superstitious soul among us. That we should be on our way and have a safe journey and need not worry about him, were the guy with the diabolical eyes last words before we waved him goodbye and wished him all the best for the future.

Nachikufu caves were situated closer to the main road and therefore more
easily found. The boys were keen but, with a 10usd entry fee a head, Marilyn and   I gladly left them aside and decided on providing a guacamole lunch.

This entire historical and archaeological site seeing had set our time schedule way off. And by the time we hit Mpika, halfway to our destination, the day was closing in. During a debate in the car on deciding were to spend the night, I made the decision by accidentally driving into a wall outside one of the guesthouses we had randomly parked at. The 60cm high infrastructure cracked in half and  fell over. I figured the best way to avoid having to pay for it was a) to do a hit and run  b) to blame the termites that had obviously been housing there for quite some time or c) to pretend
we were potential guests.  Since we were caught in the act by the night watchman, the owner came out in disbelief and wasn't able to fathom how this could have happened. Neither could I. How were we going to fix it? All I needed was a trowel and a bag of cement. I could do it in the morning I assured him.  He seemed to have taken offence to this offer.  I then offered  option c and respectfully  asked him to see the rooms. Bingo. The place turned out to be a pearl in the oyster of Mpika. And as Marilyn and I took our own private room with private bathroom and double bed each, to rest our degenerating carcasses,  the guys, like genuine men, would put their more intact bodies to rest yet another time on the rough rutted floor of their tents, when time was ripe. But time was young and so was the night and a party we had been talking about for quite a while would be attempted on this evening. On my account at least. But since the tsetse flies had led Peder to believe that he was now suffering from sleeping disease and Joost came up with a likewise
useless excuse of not being in the mood. Besides the place seemed to have a chilling  sanctifying air over it, even a Saturday night didn't seem like the time nor place for a mischievous party,  in this Sacred Temple of Righteousness . The house's 10 commandments stuck on the back of every door implied anything but the Greek drinking and snatching around orgy i had had in mind. The Holy Bible on the bed suggested Jesus was already there and made it clear no one was going to moan, scream or sigh for God out loud at this Devil forsaken establishment.

On the Sunday Kapisha Hot springs were reached after a hazardous drive over
40 kilometers dirt road passing the old manor of Shiwa N'gandu where 20usd entrance to see a house made it a lot less appealing and in the end completely
ignorable.The natural springs were perfect relief after our early morning drive. And with a bottle of Vodka and coke we all blended in the healing powers of a sheer hot open air bathing festivity. In fact i was enjoying myself to that extend
that, with a little help from Marilyn, I persuaded Peder and Joost, who were
in mortal danger of getting bored to death, to stay on and have another
relaxing day. They even managed to control their compulsive habit of
perpetually moving around and let themselves slide into a state of what
looked like complete physical relaxation and mental liberation reading books
or doing absolutely nothing.

After two days of cocooning, the travel bug had to spread it's wings again and
propelled it's head, thorax, feelers and four legs in the direction of Mbala. As it turned out, after a full day's travel we stayed at The Grasshopper Guesthouse.
It was at this insect welcoming nest, that Joost and I soaked up a full bottle of Vodka. which resulted in him falling asleep on top of his mosquito net and myself without one. This in it's turn led to a terrible chemical itch on Joost's face and a random mosquito bite pattern on every exposed part of my body, the next morning.

After an extended visit to the Moto Moto Museum, which houses a lot of
Zambia's cultural and national history, buying useless curios in it's
souvenir shop and making fun of the lodgers of Mbala's town prison, which
resembled more of an over sized chicken coop than a jail, we skipped lunch
and made it to our end destination.  We reached the magnificent Lake Tanganyika and on it's edge the less magnificent town of Mpulungu, unless you consider the scent of rotting fish to be an appealing odor. It could be considered a 'real' African fishing village, which gives it notably more flair and definitely a certain charm. The bumpy journey, with plenty of swirls trying to dodge pot holes in the crappy road, the midday heat, the search for a place to stay and the indecisiveness of it, the stomach ache which I mistook for being hungry, and added on top of all that, that piercing smell. The beach with it's  clear water, white sand and palm trees is where iIwanted to be. And after a tensed discussion that is where we went. We parked the Nissan at the local Caltex station, where the owner helped us out on how to get to Insanga Bay by sending one of his local guys with us to charter a taxi-boat.

It was a pleasant trip through amazing surroundings Actually, everyone's day seemed to be turning out better than expected. And as we sailed into the sunset we were more than content to help out the local community by letting the boatman overcharge us by 10 times the price. Insanga Bay Lodge was a jewel on the lake, and in the pale light of the setting sun, it shone dimly in all it's glory and met up to every of my romantic expectations.

 Due to that rainy weather we had to postpone our early morning trip to Kalambo Falls, Africa's 2nd highest waterfall .  A three to four hour steep climb up and two hours back down.  To a person in good health, like my companions, it was an agreeable and satisfying hike, It was Peder's last night and we should have had a party but everyone was tired.

So, at 5am, while I was still fast asleep, Marilyn actually got up to
say goodbye in person.   At 5:15 am she was cursing and lying on the floor with a
sprained ankle. Ironically, she had conquered a mountain with the balance of
a klipspringer the previous day, only to be done in by a stupid short visit
to the ablution facilities that morning. Left with a tent and a friend short we spent our last day on the beach trying to get a tan, in between the rains.

Now we were down to three for the reflective two day drive back to Lusaka were we separated for our next adventures.