Long Road to Lusaka

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With my tent finally rolled and stuffed into its bag, my sleeping bag hastily shoved back into its sack and my sleeping mat semi-deflated, I was ready to get back on the truck. Jerry cans were topped up, water bottles filled, the cooking table was stowed away and the camping stools were put back into their lockers. Tiny - heaving, secured the gas cylinders and Jules, with Gooses help - put away the gas burners. With a grunt I reached up and shoved my tent back into the tent locker with its other companions, all bearing names such as 'Serengeti, Zambezi, Windhoek, Killi etc. The bag carrying my tent poles went in next followed by the bag containing the tent pegs and flysheet. Wiping my hands on my shorts I picked up my sleeping bag, mat and pillow and went to assess the usual early morning chaos happening inside the truck. Heaving my gear I hoisted myself up the steps and squeezed my way through the press of bodies, backpacks and sleeping equipment. Everyone was jostling for position, trying to lift off their seats so that they could get to their storage lockers underneath - it was a very trying time of day.
'Could you stop putting your crap on my seat, I'm trying to get in there!'
'Has anyone seen my water bottle?!? Why does it keep going missing?'
'Whose bag is this, whose stuff is in my locker?'
'Where’s my hat'
And so on and do fourth until eventually we were settled - iPods, reading material and sunglasses in place, we were ready. Goose pushed the overhead buzzer to let Jules and Nick in the cab know that we were ready to leave.

This was to be a long drive day which is something I always looked forward to as I loved to be on the road. I would sit up on the 'beach' letting the sun warm my skin, my favourite songs playing in my ears as mile after mile of beautiful countryside rolled by and Zambia really is a beautiful country. I would let my mind wander.

Tonight was to be my first 'bush camp’ as it was too far to get to Lusaka and our next scheduled campsite in one day. We had set off at around eight that morning and our arrival time really depended on when Nick and Jules felt they had found a 'good' spot for us to camp.
I chatted happily with Louise for a while and then Sat and Dave challenged me to a game of scrabble. Don't laugh - in fact, I actually won. I managed to use all 7 of my letters with the word 'secrete' thus bagging myself 50 bonus points. My old favourite - 'Fez' also made an appearance along with many other high scoring 'triple word' combinations. I was on fire and, (I should imagine) was fairly insufferable to be with for the rest of the day.

The roads were still terrible and we pitched and rolled from side to side, the back of the truck would jolt violently and those unfortunate enough to be sitting there would be airborne for a few seconds. Richard, whom had been lying down at the back with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest, much like a vampire levitated off of his seat and landed with a sickening thud on the truck floor. I’d like to say we showed concern but mostly we just laughed at his misfortune.
The day passed and the African bush continued to roll by, broken up only by the occasional village and with it the usual crowds of children shouting their excitement and waving at us happily, trying to sell their weirs. Evening was threatening to draw in and by around 5pm the truck started to slow. With interest, we peered out of the windows, leaning over the sides to see where we were. There was nothing but dense bush for miles. Often, Nick would stop and Jules would jump out to scope the area. Each time she would return to the truck, shaking her head with a frown on her face.
‘No good Jule’s?’ Troy bellowed
‘Nup’
We continued to search, the sun began its fiery descent and I could tell Nick was getting anxious - he wouldn’t drive the truck at night. The cicada’s started their nightly chorus and about 10km on we passed another small village, much like all the others we had passed complete with stray dogs, wandering chickens, goats and tiny little mud rondavels. The children that called out to us this time were selling mushrooms by the roadside. Just as I thought we were leaving the village behind - as we had with all the others, the truck ground to a halt. We sat stationary for a few minutes and then with a crunch of the clutch and grinding of gears we reversed.

We could hear their joy long before their beaming faces, alight with gratitude came into view. The children flooded towards us cheering and laughing, ‘Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!’ they cried, bouncing up and down with their arms waving in the air.

The truck rolled to an exhausted stop and sagged, the engine ticking. The cab door slammed and we watched as Nick jumped out. The children’s excitement had drawn a few of the adults over to see what was going on. There were two women, each carrying an infant in a kanga on her back, holding older children by their hands, shushing them when their giggles became too loud, and two men. One wisened and stooped with a glossy, weather beaten face and a younger man, tall and very skinny with a yellowing, toothy smile. Nick set off towards them with the children bouncing along happily at his heels. The younger man stepped forward and Nick began speaking with him animatedly. We watched as he talked, gesturing towards the truck and waving his arms about in gay abandon. The younger man peered over Nick’s shoulder to see all over us staring back with interest and then smiling he turned his attention back to Nick. We watched the exchange for a few more minutes and then the two shook hands firmly. Grinning, Nick turned and waved us down.

We spilled out of the truck, excited by this turn of events but slightly nervous and self conscious as more and more village faces appeared, pressing in on us in a large semi-circle, murmuring and giggling softly.
‘They said we can stay here for the night as long as we buy some of their mushrooms’ Nick explained. There were by now, approximately thirty intrigued faces intently watching us, some beaming widely others looking through lowered eyelids shyly. The younger man from before, who turned out to be our translator spoke, ‘welcome’ he said hesitantly in broken English, ‘you - you are happy to stay. We happy you have come - please’ proudly he gestured for us to come forward; a few of the braver villagers had also stepped forwards and reached out tentatively to shake our hands. Seeing this exchange, the rest of the village closed in and hands reached from all directions, desperate to touch the ‘Mzungus’ their eyes wide and with wondering smiles they touched my hair and caressed my face, putting their hands into mine.
‘They’ve seen the overland trucks go by but this is the first time one has ever stopped. This is the first time they have seen white people up close’ Nick said in way of explanation.

Grinning, I turned back to the village girls holding my hair out to them and putting my arm out against theirs. I laughed at their squeals of delight and when they giggled, hiding their faces in their hands.
Jules set about paying for the mushrooms and the rest of us set about putting up our tents. Our young guide pointed to a tiny round, thatched shelter, ‘here, you can go’ we looked at the dry, warm shelter with its clay floor; there was room for four, five tents at best. Louise and I exchanged a glance then ran to the truck.
‘If if one of those bastards takes our spot, they’re gonna see my fist just now’ muttered Louise as she struggled to free our tent from the locker. Laughing I reached up to help her, ‘does that mean you’re not ditching me tonight’ Louise threw me a dark look and together we scrambled back to the shelter, tripping over squealing piglets in our haste, ‘and if one of those little pig’s come sniffing in the night, I swear - I’m gonna eat it for breakfast!’

Our audience watched, amused as the strange ‘Mzungu’s’ unpacked their, ‘canvas houses’ and squabbled over which tent was going to go where.
‘I can’t go on the ground outside; I have a very bad back - it’s agony, I didn’t get any sleep last night because of it and when I don’t sleep I get these headaches……’ Debbie’s nasal, Australian drawl droned on and on and on until I was convinced I would end up hitting her, I had visions of it happening…
‘And then I’m irritable and that would ruin my -‘
‘Alright Debbie! For crying out loud, go on the inside!’ I snapped. Pam and Goose, Sat and Richard and Iain and Tiny had already snagged a spot under the shelter and now Debbie and Hannah had just bagged the fourth. ‘Come on,’ I urged, ‘we can get under there, there’s still room’ Louise was staring aghast at Debbie’s retreating back, ‘that bitch! Dude - I swear, she is like the most annoying person….’
‘Yes, I agree. Come on, quickly before the Ryan’s get in’
‘I don’t bloody want it now!’ Louise called after Debbie, ‘I wouldn’t want to put anyone’s back out!’ Louise said this as she started furiously unrolling the tent canvass under the shelter……

Louise, in her own words, ‘finds more fault in the human race than she has patience to deal with.’ Considering she is a staunch defender of human rights, I find this hilarious.
‘The problem, is that you’re Not patient - are you?’ I asked as I set up the tent poles.
‘No’ she agreed.
‘And you don’t really like anyone, do you?’ I urged.
‘I like you don’t I?’ she snapped. I smiled, ‘naturally, everyone likes me’ She harrumphed at that, struggling to lift up the canvas to meet the erect poles, ‘just watch yourself or I’ll do stuff to you in your sleep.’

A shower was out of the question tonight so I made my way with the others to set up the camp stools, Jules had already started our pasta meal - adding the mushrooms as a tasty addition. By now it was dark so we had set up the camp lights; our audience was still watching us curiously, whispering amongst themselves. We sat down to eat with thirty pairs of eyes watching each mouthful. Prompted by one of the women, our young guide stumbled forward looking awkward, ‘please - we can use pot?’
The trucks large stainless steel cooking pot was Julies prize, (when you’re on the road I guess it’s the small things) however she was more than happy to part with it for one night. In a few short minutes they had a fire blazing and the women started to expertly turn mealie meal into Sadza.

After supper as we stood flapping dishes, with the villagers watching bewildered, Richard had an idea. ‘Why don’t we put on a little show for the kids, sort of as a ‘thank you?’ I’d heard about Richards’s legendary days as a holiday camp entertainer and apparently this was something he had already tried successfully in Tanzania.

Iain, Jules, Troy, Amanda and I were the ones brave enough to agree, (at last, my time at Base had actually prepared me for something!)

‘It’s dead easy, I sing the first line and you repeat it back at me - copy my moves and we’ll try and get the kids to do the actions’ he encouraged.

Sounded great.

‘Ok boys and girls!’ Richards turned with a flourish, ‘are you ready?’ I’m fairly certain they had no idea what he was saying but the children laughed and clapped anyway. ‘Beavers, are you ready?’ he had turned to us. Beavers?
‘Ok! Beaver None, Beaver One Let's All Sing the Beaver Song!'
Oh dear……
‘Beaver Two, Beaver Three, Let's All Climb a Beaver Tree’Richard was jumping around with his teeth sticking out looking demented. We copied him.
‘Beaver Four, Beaver Five, Let's All Do the Beaver Jive’ we copied the line and started to dance, the kids were on their feet squealing and dancing with us……
‘Beaver Six, Beaver Seven Let's All Go To Beaver Heaven’

The kids loved it! They were clapping and jumping about, copying our actions and generally having a ball, I had to hand it to Rich, the guy was good. Richard had a couple of other songs in his repertoire which we performed admirably to the delight of the children and to much sniggering from the adults and then for our grand finale we gathered the children in a circle and holding hands took them thorough the ‘hokey cokey.’ It was the most rewarding and fun activity I have done in years, I couldn’t stop smiling.
A few of the children turned to our guide and said something, clearing his throat he said, ‘the children would like to sing for you’

Bringing our stools around us we each took a seat and waited for them as they shuffled nervously into position. I don’t think I can describe what came next; I’m sure no words will ever do it justice. Their harmonies were complicated and beautiful and they stamped out the beats and rhythms with their feet, others were dancing to the beat and it was incredible, hypnotic. They sang and sang for us and we clapped and cheered whilst they obviously rejoiced in our pleasure. It was exactly how overlanding in Africa should be. Nothing staged, nothing planned, it wasn’t a tourist trap. It just meeting with people of the land and getting to know them a bit better. Perfect, I was elated.

The evening drew to a close and campers and villagers alike began to drift off to bed.
‘You stayin’ up Miles, fancy a game of ‘shithead?’ I smiled warmly at Iain, ‘not tonight, Lou’s already in bed and if I wake her up later coming in, she’ll tear my heart right out.’
Iain laughed, ‘night then’

In the remoteness of the village and with the camp lights out the darkness was absolute. Using my feeble torch I made my way to my tent, stooping low under the shelter and being very careful not to wake Louise as I stepped over her, I snuggled into my sleeping bag. Sleep found me easily.

For a while anyway

‘Are you f*****g kidding me!’ Louise’s arm knocked me as she fumbled around for something, her torch I think. Blinking rapidly and still half asleep I raise my head, ‘whasit?’ I mumbled incoherently.
‘I don’t know, some sort of bloody mobile discotheque’ She replied, yanking the tent flap aside.
‘A bakkie, there’s a blimmin bakkie parked out there with its stereo on’
‘What make is it’ I smiled
‘GCM Jennet -‘
‘Alright, alright - I was just kidding’ I sat up rubbing my eyes; I finally became aware of the continuous pulsating thud of the bakkies base line that had oh so obviously woken my disgruntled tent buddy.
‘What time is it?’
‘4am’ she sighed. Then she added, ‘I bet this will piss Debbie off’
Smiling to myself I turned over, ‘night Lou.’


Morning arrived and with it, another long drive day. We packed up our tent gear and had breakfast. This morning a few shy curious faces had come to watch us and I decided to bring my camera out. Munching on an apple whilst casually holding my camera against my hip in my free hand, I looked at two, innocent, cherubic faces smiling at me. The little boys looked to be about four or five years old. Tossing the apple core I beckoned to them. Grinning, they came charging over and looked up at me expectantly. I pointed to my camera and then pointed at them, shyly they both nodded. I knelt down in front of them and snapped the first picture, still on my knees I edged forward so they could see. With their smooth, warm foreheads resting against mine they peered at the photo, giggling and pointing at themselves in wonder. I had noticed that I was surrounded. Smiling I looked up and realized that there were about fifteen children all craning to see the picture. I stood and carefully lowered the camera so that everyone could see, their tiny bodies pressing around me, Amanda later said that all she could see was the tip of my head. Naturally the process repeated itself and I took pictures of all of them, letting them each see the pictures in turn.

All too soon it was time to leave.

Leaning out of the truck sides we waved to our village, they had been wonderful hosts. Pam handed out biros for the children who chorused well rehearsed ‘thank you’s’ and clutched their prizes to their chests. As we pulled away, (not before getting Julies beloved pot back) the whole village came out to wave us off, the children running alongside waving their pens in the air. The adults stepped out onto the road waving at us until we were out of site.

All in all an awesome experience and bar a quick pit-stop in Lusaka, I was off to adventure capital of the world - Livingston.

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Photos

My Little Cherubs
Two shy little faces, curious about my camera

1,2,3........
This is a 'countdown gone wrong' why? because Dave is a moron and he can't count. I only got as far as '1' before he took the picture so the kids didn't get a chance to smile, they were still looking at me for the signal.

New Pens!!!
Kids proudly show of the pens given to them by Pam

Woman and Child
Woman stading next to the shelter where some of us pitched our tents.

Thanks for visiting
Saying goodbye as we pulled off

Bye, Bye
Final look at the villiage before heading to Livingstone