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Published: March 27th 2010
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Kwa Nokeng
Niffty Campsite Our first off days and we simply had to rush over to Botswana since it’s only 80km from us. We originally planned to chill at the lodge and explore the surrounding area (I still couldn’t direct guests how to get here, only leaving the place once since arriving and backed up by my wonderful sense of direction). Familiarising ourselves with the layout of town was also a good idea since our first shopping trip there had been hectic with me standing in the bank queue for 2 hours cashing the staff wage cheque while Theo spent 2 frenzied hours inching his trolley through Shoprite for groceries at month end and trying to stay in radio contact with me. Sporting my 2way radio clipped onto my belt made me feel cool as we dashed around town in our khaki uniforms and franticly drove over pavements in the lodges’ massive 4x4 cruiser in search of the tent repair shop, the banks, the post office and the other 60 places we were supposed to stop at in a space of 2 hours. Just another normal day in the life of lodge staff. By the time we headed back, I was frazzled and anyway, I
Salad Bar!
We gave the salad bar a miss hadn’t impressed the hundreds of other khaki clad farmers or hunters in their fancy jeeps sporting 6 metre snorkels and bullbars with 6 ton winches and 2 dozen spot lights and other paraphernalia necessary for everyday life in the Limpopo.
So back to my Botswana trip. We decided to go on Theo’s old 550 thumper which turned out to be a trying experience. Getting there was cool, crossing the border was piss easy, especially compared to Mozambique, and we checked in at KWA NOKENG lodge just across the other side of no man’s land. We had emailed them 15 minutes before our impulsive decision to go to Botswana so we knew they had tents with beds which meant we didn’t have to lug too much stuff around. We took way too much reading material, binocs, our camera and change of clothes.
Our first night we gnawed on our braaied steaks since we’d forgotten to bring any eating utensils of any sort, and drank local beer - St Louis (a bit wishy washy) - before happily falling asleep. Next morning we met Clinton, owner of KWA NOKENG, adventure biker expert and really nice down to earth guy. He showed
botswana village
Cool houses in the village us which places to visit and worked out our whole itinerary for the next 2 days, made calls to check on petrol situations, drew maps and told us interesting things about Botswana. His love for the place is evident. We planned to hang around the Tuli Block, which according to Clinton was a strip of land between SA and northern Botswana which was given to the British to keep the Boers out of Botswana. They in turn gave it to Cecil John Rhodes to manage, but he was working for a SA mining company and had a different agenda. We looked forward to exploring villages and seeing the real Botswana, not the big towns or tourist stopovers. The difference between Clinton, who rides a GS, used to race bikes, knows the area like the back of his hand, and is a thrill seeker compared to us being 2 up on Theo’s old bike with shot suspension, a seat that’s seen better days and a back right footpeg permanently covered in oil, is, well let’s just say it’s a slightly different ride.
Exploring the villages was wonderful. The people are so friendly and smiley. The dirt roads took us past
cooldrink stop
in the middle of nowhere children waving from mud huts in the middle of nowhere and massive Baobab trees created shady meeting places in villages. We rode through green bushveld which carried on for miles and miles and eventually we stopped at a bar in a village which had ice cold beers and where the locals welcomed us. At another village we stopped for lunch and had to make do with the limited goods on the shelves of the general dealer - a donut and biscuits did the trick. At another village we stopped for a “guided tour” by a young guy who proudly took us to the villages natural water spring halfway up the koppies.
Clinton told us that each village had its own Legatso. This was a council headed by a few of the respected elders to keep justice and order in the village and to facilitate things like cattle bartering to make sure no-one gets ripped off. Minor criminals are publically embarrassed in front of their family and in fact the whole village may sit outside the circle of white stones during the persons hearing. Apparently they are taken off for a hiding if necessary. Botswana hardly has any crime and
Botswana
countryside farm the people feel safe.
We returned to our campsite, happy, hot and tired with 2 pieces of meat (origin unknown), a loaf of bread and a can of sheeba - that’s tomato smoor if you’re a Capie. We skollied a knife from the bar and Theo stabbed the meat numerously in an attempt to tenderise it. I poured my beer over the annihilated meat to marinate it but the packet was kinda perforated by then. We were able to slice our bread and hack open the tin to finish off our lovely meal, then to bed for the next day’s anticipated hard riding. What an understatement. We kaked off. The scenery was beautiful as we explored more of the Tuli Block crossing a few vet gates (for foot and mouth control) and the “backline” fence which separated the Tuli block from the rest of Botswana. My arse was killing me and my calves were in excruciating pain and we still had more than 100 km’s to go on bumpy roads and over rocky dry river beds and through private game reserves before it got dark. We’d left at 7 in the morning (maybe closer to 8 although Clinton told
bar in lerara
Botswana village bar us go get going at 6 - yeah like that was gonna happen) and we limited our stops to non alchoholic. I kept an eye on the goats and donkeys near villages and scouted for the elephants that left their droppings on the roads while Theo kept his eye out for bumps (bigger than elephant droppings) and soft sand.
We were drained when we got back at 6 that evening. I managed to strip off my dusty sweaty clothes and lay naked on the bed while I ate a piece of bread with bully beef and sheeba spread over it and promptly fell asleep.
Next morning, much to my surprise, I could still walk. I headed off to the showers, polished off a huge pot of coffee at the restaurant, and then we headed back home. My body dealt with the tar road way easier than the dirt but I was really happy to have seen a part of Botswana that I wouldn’t have had we not met Clinton.
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